Kate Draffen

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

These as the first 9 chapters of the story, the next 9 will be put up soon followed shortly by the remaining chapters.

This is set in Australia and thus a very small portion of the slang might be a shade confusing to a lot of you but I'm sure you non-Aussies will pick it up. Also, like a lot of Australians the characters have a relaxed relationship with swearing. So, it may seem a shade gratuitous but I assure you it's fairly realistic. If you have any questions or comments please send me an email at [email protected]

*****

KATE DRAFFEN
By Swishy

Everyone in Australia knows about Kate Draffen. Everybody had at least talked about Mrs. Draffen at least once: Did it hurt? What about her kids? What about her husband? I had asked those questions. Essentially, Kate Draffen wasn't special enough to warrant everyone talking about her, unless we all are. She was just a simple stay-at-home mum; 41, three kids, married, liked arts and crafts. But it wasn't her we were all talking about- it was what happened to her. Her photo was on the front pages of all the newspapers. For a while she was the most famous person in the country.

Who knew I would soon be as famous as Kate Draffen?

CHAPTER 1

I was unremarkable. If you asked me to describe myself in one word I would have said 'unremarkable'. My name, Michael Taylor, was an indication of how truly unremarkable I was. Such a boring name. Although, I always reassured myself that I had plenty of time to become remarkable. I was only 17, plenty of time to figure out how to change the world for the better. There are 21 million people in this country, and when it came to importance I would have probably ranked myself towards the bottom. I was just a young kid, average in all ways, living in a small town. It's not that I wasn't worth anything, it's just that there was nothing super interesting about me. And I was perfectly fine with that.

I didn't mean a lot to many people either. Sure, I had a mum who loved me and my own group of friends but outside of this little town no one knew me. I was just another blank faced teenager in a long line of teenagers. In fact this story begins in a line of teenagers.

We were having a yearly medical check at school. As far as everyone else was concerned it was a great excuse to lose two classes while we waited in line, for me it was a hellish torment, a terrifying wait to get a needle. To say I was scared of needles is like saying The Pacific Ocean is a puddle. Sure, I hated Rubella too, so I knew why I needed the needle but the reassurance of knowledge didn't make the needle any less sharp or painful. The injection wasn't the only part of today's yearly medical examination; they were going to check for head lice, give us the standard sight and hearing test and quick swab of saliva to see if there was anything massively wrong with us. All those other things were fine with me; anything that withheld the jabbing of the needle into my arm even for a second was great in my books.

Dot gave me a massage that made it apparent that she had never given a massage before or that she had no clue that pinching my shoulders hard would not have a calming effect. "It'll be OK," reasoned Dot cheerfully, "Immunisation is like losing your virginity, mate!"

"And how is that?" I bemoaned, not really wanting to listen but deciding to placate her so she didn't attempt another massage.

"Well, just one little prick and it's all gone!" She laughed at her own joke. I glared at her, unimpressed.

"That doesn't really work for us," Glen chimed in, "As we are the 'pricker' not the 'prickee'." Glen made a good but completely useless point.

"Just don't talk about it!" I grunted, as the line moved and I got a step closer. Dot peered at the line snaking its way into the Study Room, which for that day was a makeshift medical centre.

She did her best to hide from the burning sun, pressing up against a wall, "Michael, I don't know why you made us go last in the line. You should have gotten it out of the way ASAP, like ripping off a band-aid. I'm seriously melting out here!"

Dot's fear of burning was well placed. Dot was pale. She was also tiny like her name suggested. She was colourless, short and very slight with thick black hair and piercing eyes. Despite being quite a striking looking creature, the boys pretty much left her alone. Not that she cared, however, as her heart belonged to only one boy. She, like many teenage girls, was in love with the unobtainable. Not to say that he was out of her league, I'd like to think they would have gotten along famously. But he was married. And dead. For over one hundred years. Let's just say I never could foresee Dot becoming Mrs. Herman Melville anytime soon.

"You're the only one melting because you haven't seen the sun in 11 years, you hermit!" I told Dot. She stuck her tongue out at me and mimed poking me with a needle. The light bounced off my watch and I carefully aimed it at Dot's eyes. The line lurched a step forward, as some of the casualties leaked out of the building. They talked, giggled and planned their lunchtimes. They didn't seemed like victims of a horrible stabbing to me, that just meant that the statistics were stacked against me, if they hadn't made a mistake so far it meant they were more likely to screw up on me. One of the prettier wounded walked over to us, clutching a cotton wool ball to her arm.

"Hey spunk," she called to me.

"Did it hurt?" I skipped the small talk with Holly and went straight to the matter at hand.

"No, not really," Holly looked at me looking at the bloody cotton ball. "I'm a bit of a bleeder," she confessed, "Michael, you're not actually scared, are you?"

"Shitting himself," Glenn chimed in again to another conversation where his participation was not required. Glen was quite quiet, except when he knew it would annoy me. So basically, he's your average best friend.

"Just be glad you're not a girl, because we have to get two needles," Holly said.

"That's not fair," whined Glen, assuredly adding nothing to the conversation, "I don't want to get cervical cancer either!" I wonder if it was too late to change friends.

"Look, just make sure you don't faint. I don't think I could handle having a Deb partner who faints," Holly called over her shoulder as she left for the canteen, "See you in English later on, I want to talk about our Deb speech!"

Now, I'm sure some of you reading this might not know what the 'Deb' is. I'll tell you: 'Deb' is short Debutante and in Australia a lot of High Schools have these things called Debutante Balls. It's a way of introducing young women in Year 11 at school, to society. The girls get dressed up in white dresses, like wedding dresses, and dance with boys in tuxedos. We all learn how to do different ballroom dances, like waltzes and The Pride of Erin and perform them in front of local dignitaries and our family and friends. Then Debutantes dance with their fathers and the boys dance with their mothers. Some people cut a cake, two students (Holly and I) make a speech and then a band plays and we all dance. That's about it, I guess it's a little like a prom, but not really, it's a lot more formal, with protocol and all. There are more rules than just playing Stairway to Heaven at the end.

And Holly was my partner, which was great. I wasn't going to do it at all until Holly asked me. I couldn't turn her down because I had a huge thing for her. She was pretty and sweet and has a lovely singing voice. We were in the school play together a few times and once even played lovers, which was awesome. Unfortunately our school never does any of the kissing scenes so the closest I got to her was a tender hug. Her friend, Alison told me that Holly only chose me because I was a great dancer and looked good in a suit and that was good enough for me. Any chance I had to get close to Holly was good- performing in school plays, tutoring her in Japanese, being her Deb partner. Yes, I know she had a boyfriend who was at university and I know that she only liked me as a friend but there was no reason I couldn't enjoy holding her close and dancing.

My Deb partner was above me in rank. Although our school isn't like a school in teen movies with the jocks, nerds and cheerleader all in there defined cliques, there was a little bit of a class system. Basically there are three groups. Group A is the 'cool' group: Usually self defined, the prettiest and stylish girls belong to this group, as do the toughest and most obnoxious boys. This is the group that has parties where not everyone is invited, they only date within the group and they staked out and reserved all the best spots to hang out around school. Group C is the deviants, psychos, nut-jobs and misanthropes who shun company. They are weird and will probably grow up to be people you avoid on the street because of the religious ranting they are doing through a megaphone. Group B was everyone else. We were the drama nerds, the music lovers, the smart kids, the movie buffs, the math nerds, the wallflowers, the everything elses.

Holly could be a Group A if she was snobby enough. A lot of her friends were Group Aers. She had long blonde hair and large blue eyes. I have seen her in her underpants while she changed costumes and can attest to the fact she has a totally smoking body. But she is too sweet to belong to Group A all the time, quite content to be friends with whoever she likes. That's what attracted me to her in the first place, the ability to befriend everyone she meets. She was going to look amazing in a couple months time at the Deb Ball, and I was going to be dancing with her.

I was the only one in our little friendship circle who was doing the Deb. Dot opposed the whole thing as the pseudo-feminist she pretended to be. "I am not being put on display as a potential wife!" she would often preach, in the child-like voice she couldn't shake off because of her stature "Next after that is setting up a dowry for catching a worthy gentleman," she would scoff. The right girl had just simply not asked Glen. I think he was hoping for Alison or another one of the A Squad to come to their senses and ask him, but nothing materialized. So he would often jumped on the feminist bandwagon too.

"Hey mate, guess who got pulled for having lice?" asked an acquaintance, giving us no time to guess. "Candice Ellwood!" he named an unfortunate Group C girl, laughed and left, probably to spread the rumour further. Even though our school was big (about 1,000 students) you would be surprised how fast rumours would travel. Rumours would travel through the school faster than… well, head lice. But I guess that was the same in every school. I knew I had no lice, as I carefully washed my hair everyday, nothing would survive on my hair. My hair was my pride and joy, I even wore it unfashionably long, down to my shoulders. It wasn't very fashionable or masculine, bit I simply didn't care. As if the building was trying to inhale the students surrounding it the line moved on and I entered the belly of the beast.

The first thing I noticed was how disinterested the medical professionals appeared to be. It was Monday morning and these people looked like they had been working 12 years without a day off. Now I understand swabbing saliva and checking for lice aren't seat-of-your-pants exciting jobs but at least you could smile. I would be worried if the needle people had the same lackadaisical attitude, if they were so indifferent they might stab me accidentally in the wrong place or something. Unfortunately, the needlers were hiding behind a partition, so I couldn't appraise their job satisfaction levels.

"If you would come this way, miss, we'll start your hearing test," parroted the nurse as if she had said the same thing a thousand times a day for a thousand days.

"Eh? What?" asked Dot craning her ear forward in an attempt of vaudeville type humour. The nurse manufactured a smile as if she had heard that same joke five hundred times a day for the last thousand days. I was led to seeing test, which I past quite well. I liked being tested as it gave me a chance to show off. And if I had anything to show off it was that my eyes could see a lot rather well. Me and Dot swapped over and I showed off my impressive hearing too. I winked at Glen as he entered the tests after us, knowing that he was as blind as a bat and as deaf as a doorpost. My record was safe.

Dot and I went to the next pair of tests, head lice and saliva swabbing. A woman with rough hands, went through my hair searching for the tell tale signs on an infestation but to no avail. I tried to make some chit-chat, but she looked at me with confusion. Some adults seemed to forget that people aged 17 are quite able to carry out a conversation. Just because I was wearing a blue and white school uniform, doesn't mean I am unable to talk about the weather. I was pushed along to the saliva swab, but before I left I warned the lady about Dot's arrival and the rat's nest she called hair. Dot just glared at me, if had she an once of weight behind her she might have tried to punch me but she tended to avoid physical tussles.

I scurried to the saliva swab and promptly opened my mouth, "I'm the second last of the day. That must feel good," I gurgled as the man in the gloves took a scrapping off the inside of my cheek. He ignored me and handed the swab to another man to dropped in into some liquid.

"You can go," he mumbled. I didn't want to, that meant going to the last part. The jabby, stabby, needle part.

"So, what are you checking for?" I asked the man.

"Just predispositions to various diseases," he mumbled looking deeper at one of the solutions. His curtness was a sign that conversation would not be tolerated for any longer, I took that is an obvious clue to leave and left.

It would be quite accurate to point out that I was walking very slowly to the last section of the medical obstacle course. Words that would better describe the walk toward the needle: creeping, tiptoeing, meandering, ambling and strolling. These are all more precise words to use. Soon Dot left her head lice check and pushed me, "C'mon, loser! Get it done and we can enjoy the rest of our extended lunch break!" I huffed loudly, mostly in frustration. "Do you want me to hold your hand?" and I huffed again. As we walked past the final partition I caught sight of the needles. One of them was going into Will Hodson's arms AND he was wincing slightly in discomfort! I wasn't so sure I could do this. It could break off in my arm, and get infected. I grew greener thinking about it. The medical lady, now finished butchering poor Will beckoned me to her chair. I obeyed, only to get it done with. Dot went to another chair to be dealt with. I wanted her nurse, she looked so caring and a lot less threatening. Meanwhile I was stuck with Nurse Death over here. I closed my eyes and awaited the pain.

"Mister Taylor?" asked a voice, saving me from the sharp, painful inevitability.

Despite never being called Mister Taylor I dutifully answered, "Yes?" I opened my eyes, it was the saliva guy.

"Can you come with us?" he asked in a way that didn't sound like a question at all. It was then I realized that saliva guy wasn't alone, with him was another man, holding the handle of a stretcher.

"OK," I agreed to join saliva guy and medical stretcher guy. I would have followed Satan himself if it meant a reprieve from the needle lady.

They lifted me onto the stretcher and wheeled me out of the building. I playfully waved to Glen who grimaced back from his position underneath the rough hands of the head lice inspector. It was weird. I was so relieved about the no-needle situation that I didn't even contemplate something must be wrong with me until I was being slid into the ambulance. "Uh fellas?" I called out as the men began to drive, "I don't actually feel sick. What's wrong with me?"

"We're not sure. We're going to have another doctor have a look at you. What's your parents' phone number we'll make sure they can meet us down at the hospital." I told them nicely my mother's phone number as I read it off my phone. It was then I received a message myself.

It was from Dot, "WHERE R U?"

"Im going 2 da hospital 4 sum reason not sure y they wont tell me!!!!"

"SUM PPL WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET OUT OF A NEEDLE"

They didn't put on the sirens and they didn't race through town, which seemed like the perfect course of action for a patient who didn't feel ill in the slightest. They even allowed me to walk to the doctor, instead to wheeling on the bed, which was nice. I didn't want to offend the real sick people by being pushed around in a bed feeling fine while they lay motionless in their beds, actually sick. The men weren't very talkative, so I didn't push my luck. I followed them through the stark, barren halls of the hospital, winding through a veritable maze. It didn't feel like cancer, or a stroke, I told myself. Sure, I was a little unfit, but nothing that required a speedy trip to the hospital. The deeper we descended into the bowels of the hospital, the more worried I got. We passed the old people waiting for death or a visit from their grandchildren, passed the mothers and their babies, passed the eerily silent Critical Care ward and into the centre offices. I was placed into an examination room like any other and told to wait. There was no mobile phone reception in the hospital so I couldn't call Dot, Glen, Holly or anyone else. So I just sat.

I thought through a list of diseases that I didn't have to calm myself down. I was pretty sure I didn't have the Bubonic plague, Small pox, Monkey pox, Bird flu, SARS, Malaria, Mexican death breath, the dreaded Rusty eyeballs or Nun's armpit. I ran out of diseases after Malaria and made up some of my own. I wasn't very good at waiting, usually I had my Nintendo DS or iPod to play with until excitement broke out but I was forced to wait like they did in the olden days. That way to wait was almost unbearable, especially when you don't know what you are waiting for.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably closer to seconds, a man walked in. He had a beard, that's the first thing you can say about him because it was a very prominent beard. "Hello Michael," he said in a condescending tone that meant that he had no idea how to talk to me.

"Why am I here?" I asked, avoiding pleasantries.

"Well," he said about to unveil something, "Let's just find out." The Doctor then revealed what he was holding in his hand. It was long, and it was pointy and I supposed he wanted to jab me with it. Fuck! I can't escape needles today! Out of nowhere a nurse appeared and dabbed my arms with something. "You might feel a slight discomfort," The Doctor recited as he put a metal stick into my arm and drew blood. Slight discomfort? No, I didn't feel any of that. Maybe the slight discomfort was hiding underneath the blinding pain!

"Ow!" I hollered.

"Oh hush!" said the nurse, unaware of the immense amount of pain I was in. The Doctor or should I say my torturer handed the needle to the nurse and told her that he needed the results stat. She scurried away.

I was about to question the ethics of someone locking me up (sorta) and taking my blood without permission, when I said something a little more realistic, "When's my mum getting here?"

"I'm sure she's not far away," the Doctor said, dealing with my question as quickly as possible so he could get his own questions, "Michael, have you been overseas recently? Like to Japan or the U.S.A."

"No," I admitted, "Never left the country at all."

"Have you interacted with anyone suspicious in the last couple of months?"

"Umm… I don't think so."

"Received any strange packaging?"

"No." Where was this going? I couldn't figure it out. The questions weren't helping me narrow down the purpose of them. He mumbled some about staying put and left me alone again.

I looked at my phone and it told me it was almost 2 o'clock. I hoped all this cloak and dagger stuff would be finished soon, I really wanted to catch up with Holly in English class. She showed me a picture of the dress she wanted. Now, not every Deb dress was sexy, in fact a lot of girls end up looking more like decorated toilet seat covers than a burgeoning woman, but if Holly wore the dress in the picture a lot of people who were dragged to the event will sit up and pay attention. I think my uncles will all be very proud of me. Hurry up, Dr. Mysterious! I wanted to get back to school.

I waited another 45 minutes before I was escorted to, of all things, a waiting room. At least there were other things to do in this room other than make up fake diseases. I could read out-dated magazines or look out of any one of three windows, or I could talk to my mum. "Michael!" she said, with a mixture of concern and puzzlement.

"Hi," was my response and I did my duty as a son and lovingly hugged her.

"What's wrong with you? They haven't told me anything. I've been waiting here for ages. There better be something wrong with you, otherwise my boss is going to be pissed." Now I'm sure my own mother wasn't wishing I wasn't sick, but according to that sentence it sounded like she'd be mad if I wasn't dying.

"I don't know," I told my mum, "They've just taken my blood and left me in a room all alone. It's been lousy."

"Well, I'd like some answers." I liked Mum a whole lot. My Dad I didn't care about so much, but since I hadn't heard from him for like 11 years that was OK. Mum worked very hard to support me and my older sister, Nicole. She wasn't the type that took to motherhood well. She forgot things, she wasn't much of a cook or cleaner, she was spontaneous and didn't always think of her kids first. But she was honest and she loved us, and that is all you need for a good childhood.

Mum worked as a waitress at a pub, so sometimes she was away at nights and sometimes she did the lunch shift, today she must have been doing the lunch shift. She twirled her finger through her dyed blonde hair nervously while reading an old magazine. "Oh, that's sad," she mumbled, "Graham Kennedy died." That was typical of my mum, catching up with news through a waiting room magazine, Graham Kennedy died in 2005. I sat, spoilt by the many options to entertain myself and did nothing.

"If you would like to come this way," said the bearded Doctor who had stolen my blood. We followed him deep into the bowels of the hospital again into an office. I looked at the name on the door, according to the door he was Dr. Judy Zimmer and he was an OB/GYN. I think the door was lying, I think maybe he was just borrowing the office for the afternoon. "I'm Dr. Samuel Chisholm," he said shattering the door's lies, "Michael, Mrs. Taylor, please take a seat." We did so.

"What is this all about, Doctor?" asked my mother. Dr. Chisholm looked down at his papers and studied them for a moment, seemingly ignoring my mum's question. His eyes raced over the papers, scanning for something.

"Michael," he said, looking my deep in the eyes, "Have you by chance been eating any metals? Like tin foil or other things?"

"Certainly not," answered my Mum, "Are you insinuating that I don't feed my kids? He may be almost 18 but I still look after my little boy."

I sat still, embarrassed of my Mum and what I was about to say, "Yeah, for some reason I can't stop swallowing coins." The noise my mother was making dribbled to a halt as she listening to my odd confession.

"Coins? Why, that could work." Dr. Chisholm scribbled furiously on a piece of paper. Mum just looked at me strangely, "You eat coins?"

"I don't know why! The last couple of weeks I've just popped a 10-cent coin in my mouth every now and again. But I haven't done it for the last couple of days!"

"You don't know where those things have been! Especially 10-cent pieces!" Mum spouted the usual Mum rhetoric, although I don't think other mum's have an aversion to 10-cent pieces. I guess my Mum just hated Lyre Birds.

"You've stopped ingesting them?" asked the Doctor, more concerned about me ceasing my awful habit than starting it.

"Yeah," I said, "I just haven't felt the urge for awhile."

"We caught you just in time!" heralded the Doctor like a madman.

OK, this day was getting a little weird. But it was only the beginning. "I read that everyone eats spiders when they are asleep and it never does anyone any damage. Why is my son swallowing coins cause for so much alarm, Dr. Zimmer?" Mum asked Dr. Chisholm, reading the name off of the plaque on the desk. My Mum never did have a head for names.

"Well, it's not the coins I'm worrying about, Mrs. Taylor. I'm worried about the reason young Michael was eating those coins," said the Doctor leaning forward staring at my skin. It made me feel uneasy like he was mentally undressing me, for medical reasons!

"I was just eating them cause I guess I felt it. I sorta craved them," I said trying to disprove any ridiculous theories the mad Doctor might have.

"There was another person who ate a lot of metal," explained the Doctor, "Do you remember a person named Kate Draffen?"

Kate Draffen was all over the papers about a year ago. She was a simple housewife in Sydney who had three young children and a husband. Her life was fairly un-newsworthy, until one day when she went shopping with her kids. Not only was it the first case of it in Australia, it was the first time people had captured it on camera. The security camera caught the whole thing in blurry, grainy, history-making footage. Also some shopper had her camera-phone with her and took a picture that would stun a nation and the world.

Everyone saw the picture. Her two children stood, terrified watching their mother, another kid looking over his shoulder stuck in the toddler's seat on the trolley. They all looked like they were too scared to cry and had no one to comfort them. Kate had dropped a can of some sort and it lay beside her body. The photo was taken mid-scream her face contorted in fear, her arms out-stretched as if to plea to the gods for help. A harrowing picture made all the more harrowing because, despite the body and clothes being very feminine the screaming face was a man's. The subsequent photos showed the body also transforming, becoming that of a man's. The final photo is one of a new man, lying unconscious, in a summer dress in the toiletries aisle on a supermarket floor, the children scared.

Kate Draffen was the first and so far only Australian to go through a Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration. The first reports of it happening came out of Asia. They were only reported in the tabloid newspapers and even they didn't take it very seriously. It wasn't until it started happening in Europe and North America that it received credible reporting here. It would happen the same way, a person of one gender would for no reason would, through no choice of their own, spontaneously change into the other gender. Men would become women and women would become men. It wouldn't happen very often though, maybe 1 or 2 a month for the last 2 and half years.

Scientists figured out it was the work of Nanobots. Nanobots are tiny, tiny robots that would get into your system and re-build you. It always terrified me that I could breath in and a swarm of minuscule robots could enter your mouth and transform you as they see fit. But I guess real viruses act the same way, so I didn't panic as much. No one knew who built them and why it made people change gender. Some people thought it was the work of terrorists, others thought it was a U.S Government secret plan gone haywire, others thought aliens were to blame. Despite knowing about the nanobots, no country admitted to knowing how to stop them. The technology was decades away what anyone professed to knowing.

Nothing could stop it. No one knew who it would strike or why them. It didn't seem to matter what age, gender, race or religion you are it could get you. I read it happened to a 3 month old boy in South Africa and a 78 year old grandmother in Poland. There was neither rhyme nor reason to figure out who was next. And since it had only affected about 80 or so people to date there was no international push to solve this problem. There was more likelihood of being struck by lighting three times and winning a Grammy Award for Best Rap album then being transformed. It just seemed to be a sensational distraction from the War in Iraq or Global Warming or whatever else was really important that day. It was a freak show. Mum would always look at the pictures and wonder out loud why the 'after' pictures were so much better looking than their 'before' pictures. "Perhaps," she would always muse, "They were always meant to be the other gender and this is God's way of fixing that." I would explain that God would probably use some sort of miracle to 'fix' them instead of sending swarms of tiny robots to do his bidding. She would each time reply that the Lord works in mysterious ways and go back to eating her Coco-Pops. She was never religious unless discussing those tiny robots.

Kate Draffen was Australia's only victim of P.E. Although the real term was Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration, the tabloids called it P.E. A crude term meaning either 'Penis Envy' for a woman who became a man or 'Pussy Envy' for a man who became a woman. The term seemed unfair as it seemed nobody who went through the changes particularly wanted the change and all said it was tremendously painful. Some people had such a hard time adjusting that they would have severe mental problems or even kill themselves. So calling it P.E. seemed cruel. Kate Draffen, who called herself John Draffen after the change, was lucky, she had her loving family to look after her. Although I read John and her husband separated soon after.

"Yes, I remember of Kate Draffen," I replied, hoping Dr. Chisholm was going on a completely different tangent.

"You mean the mother who had P.E?" asked my Mum.

The Doctor cringed slightly at my Mum's uncouth use of the term P.E., "Well, we found out before her 'transformation' she ate a lot on tin foil." Hmmm.. I didn't like where this was going. I decided to stay silent. Maybe I could stop this conversation from going where I didn't want it to go if I kept quiet.

"So what does Kate Draffen have to do with my son eating coins?" Damn my Mum moving the conversation forward!

"Well, we believe that before the Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration occurs the initial army of nanobots need to build many more robots to aid with the change. So in order to get the materials they need, the nanobots convince the victim to eat metal. Coins, tin foil, even spoons. That gives the robots enough material to create an army large enough to complete the transformation in a matter of minutes. Since you've stopped desiring metal it probably means they have amassed enough help to carry out the transformation. It's lucky we found you. You could have transformed any day now."

"Are you saying Michael has P.E.?" No I don't, Mum! I certainly liked pussies, at least I like looking at pictures of them. If I ever got close enough to one I'm sure I'd like feeling it, smelling it and tasting it but I would never be envious of it. I like being a guy a whole lot. Even though I sometime neglect my manhood- I have foppish hair, I like singing and dancing and I'm still a virgin- I still love the gender bestowed on me.

"Yes," said the bastard Doctor, "In a matter of words, Michael has contracted P.E. But…" Yes! There was a 'but…'! I dreamed about the things that would come after that 'but…'

"But there is a cure, Mrs. Taylor!"

"But there is a painless cure, Mrs. Taylor!"

"But there is a painless cure, not involving any needles whatsoever, Mrs. Taylor!" Any one of those would be good, especially the last one. But beggars cannot be choosers.

"But…" said Dr. Chisholm, "luckily there is something we can do to ease him into the transformation." This was not the 'good news' I was expecting and I wore an expression on my face that said exactly that.

There was no way my picture was going to be in the paper alongside a picture of a girl, with my Mum saying, "I guess you were meant to be a girl." This was not my future. My future involved Holly breaking up with her stupid boyfriend, me snapping her up and both of us becoming stars on 'Neighbours'! Maybe that was aiming a little high, but all of my potential futures did include me still having external genitals.

I sat in a stupor, letting Dr. Chisholm's words roll over the top of me, wafting though my ears and echoing into my brain, "A few months ago in Chicago they used electric pulses to set some of the nanobots off early. Not all of them you see, just a few of them. And through a period of one week they slowly activated more and more of the nanobots until the job was done. The man said he hardly felt any pain."

"Was he a man at the start or did he become a man?" was the pointless question my Mum asked.

Dr. Chisholm leafed through his notes, "Ah… he was a man, and became a woman."

I spoke up, "Are you sure there's nothing you can do to stop this? I don't want to be a girl." I hoped my voice conveyed how much I didn't want to become a girl. Maybe if the good Doctor realized how little I wanted a vagina he would double his efforts to find a cure.

"Whoever has done this to you is far more technologically advanced than we are, Michael. We are only just beginning to figure out what is happening, at the moment the best I can offer you is a smooth transition."

"You're talking like I'm going to a new school or something! I'm not! I'm going to grow a pussy! I don't want to be a girl!" Sure I was losing my cool, but I don't think anyone else could have been as cool for as long as me. I was proud of my efforts so far but now I was travelling to crazy town.

"Michael, there are a lot of things worse than being a woman," Mum said surprisingly sternly. I had inadvertently offended her, although I didn't really care. There were bigger things to worry about, such as my 'smooth transition' into a nice pair of tits! "I realize that, Mum,"

I said calmly, "But I'm quite happy being a guy."

"The truth of the matter is you are going to be a girl soon, like it or not. The Nanobots have been in your system and settled in. This will happen, Michael. Just be glad we found out because we can help. The way I'm proposing to do it will be relatively painless and slow. You'll have up to a week getting used to all the changes. We'll do this together." The Doctor leaned forward, studying my face.

I mulled over his offer. I would rather do anything without pain, the fool who said no pain, no gain was an idiot as far as I was concerned. If I had to do it, I'd rather do it with a bit of help on my side. And despite not knowing a thing about how to stop it, Dr. Chisholm certainly knew a lot of ways to make it easier for me. There was no way I was letting anyone call me Michelle though, I knew a girl called Michelle Taylor and she was an absolute slut. There was no way I was sharing a name with her. What were my friends going to say? Was I going to be a lesbian? The press is going to go crazy! How big are my boobs going to be? I'm going to be the next Kate Draffen. Oh no! I couldn't do the Deb with Holly! I slowly reeled in my thoughts and prepared my response to Dr. Chisholm.

"As long as you limit the needles to the absolute minium, Doc. Go ahead." I looked at Mum for comfort and she draped her arm around me in solidarity. She gently rubbed my back, the way only a Mum could.

"Good boy," she gently murmured, probably unaware of her use of the word 'boy'.

"Good to hear, Michael," smiled Dr. Chisholm, "If you want to follow me, we can get started."

"What? Now?"

"No time like the present!"

CHAPTER 2

I walked alongside the Doctor through the maze of identical hallways until we reached the examination room I was in before. At least I think it was the same room, it could have been any other room as far as I could tell. The doctor made me strip and took all sorts of measurements. Height, weight, hair colour, eye colour, even the length of my member, which I informed him was incorrect due to the coldness of the room. It was a base result, to measure my changes against.

Don't be under the misapprehension that I was looking forward to this. I wasn't one bit. I cried like, coincidently, a little girl when I had to say goodbye to Mum, even though it was only for an hour or so. She told me to buck up and smile. I couldn't do either. I spent the whole physical begging Dr. Chisholm not to do a thing to me. I told him that my body would fight the nanobots and win. I told him to 'shut the fuck up' when he told me that was impossible. I thought the typical teenager thought, 'Why is life so cruel to me and only me?' and for the first time in my life that was almost valid. I was honestly 1 in over 75,000,000. That was certainly life ganging up on me. I cried all through the measuring. Hard.

"Now, relax Michael. I was the former Kate Draffen's doctor and I looked after him after the transformation," said Dr. Chisholm as we walked down the hall towards another room.

"Really? What was she like?" I asked using the pro-noun I wanted to use.

"He," he said, stressing the word, "was very fragile. He isn't as strong as you are."

I actually chuckled at that, through my sobbing, "Yeah, because I'm a regular hero."

"No Michael, you are being very strong. We got there too late to ease John Draffen into his new gender, we didn't even know how to back then. But John kept working hard at it and he's a good father and healthy human now. He can live life now. But it took a lot of work."

"When was the last time you saw Kate…I mean John?"

"This morning," said Dr. Chisholm, "I see John few times a month. Then I got the call to come down and investigate you. So, I flew down here and here I am. I'm glad we got to you on time."

"Me too," I shrugged.

We arrived at the room and the Doctor warned me, "There's going to be my entire team in here, Michael. They are all here to see you, so please answer all their questions. After that I'll begin the process, OK?" I nodded and we entered the room.

Three people were awaiting my arrival with an almost kiddie sense of excitement, although they hid it well under their lab coats and glasses. But I knew they were all giddy at the chance to look at the boy with Pussy Envy. They all shook my hand and asked me questions. They asked about the number of coins I ingested, about my travel habits, my comfort levels, my medical history, my personal life, pretty much everything. All the while, Dr. Chisholm fiddled with some equipment in the corner. I caught glimpses of the mad scientist hiding inside him a few times while answering questions about my birth weight and study habits. "Thank you everyone, you will have a chance to know Michael a lot better as the weeks continue. If everyone could leave, except Anupam and you, Michael."

Everyone did as they were told, some people left and Dr. Anupam Nagra and I remained. I already like Dr. Nagra because he asked me the least amount of questions. He mainly helped Dr. Chisholm fiddle with the contraptions. "Now, what were going to do is awaken SOME of the nanobots. Not all of them, around 10% of them," Dr. Nagra said in his cold, somewhat peaceful voice.

"Not the ones in my penis, please," I asked, "I want to keep that as long as possible." The Indian Doctor sighed, trying to break to me the bad news,

"We can't do that, Michael. It's all over your body. You'll be 10% along the way of your transformation. So, I'm sure we wont see that much of a decrease in penis size." I gingerly looked down at my penis, even giving 10% of it up seemed like a massive sacrifice.

"While we are on the subject," chatted Dr. Chisholm stroking his beard, "I heard you tell Dr. Fischer that you are a virgin. Is that right?" Great, I didn't want to answer that damn question the first time, I certainly didn't want a reprise.

"Yes."

"Well now, this is only a suggestion and you don't have to follow through if you don't want to," for the first time since I met him, Dr. Chisholm was getting flustered, "Perhaps sometime soon before the changes are too great you should secure a girl and enjoy some physical activity with her."

"Huh?" I said, only to stir Dr. Chisholm up a little more.

"What Dr. Chisholm is trying to say," interrupted Dr. Nagra, "Is you should find some one who cares for you, probably tonight or tomorrow, and experience sexual intercourse with her before your transformation makes that an impossibility."

"Oh, OK."

Wow! I thought I was under pressure to get laid before, now I have a 2-day limit! I ran my mind over all the girls I know. But there was only one girl I really wanted to ask- Holly. I would always dream that she would be my first and now I had an excuse to ask her. She was caring and sweet enough to let us have one special night before Michael disappears and some girl replaces him. Depends really on how angry she will be about losing her Deb partner. I'd love one magical night with Holly. But it would mean cheating on her boyfriend and asking for a huge favour and potentially ruining a friendship. It was risky, but when is sex not risky?

Dr. Nagra handed me a small metal bar, about the size of a 30cm ruler. It was connected to a machine that looked like it controlled the amount of electricity. "Sorry we are taking so long but we have never tried this procedure before."

"Never?"

"Well, since you are second person in the country to have contracted these Nanobots and the first to be diagnosed before your transformation you are somewhat of a special case," said Dr. Nagra. Gee, I was a special case. Hear that? Me. I was special. I didn't hear that a lot. It was nice to hear, even if it involved me getting a strange virus.

"So, what's going to happen?" I queried the men.

"You are about to receive a small surge of electricity, not a lot. This will activate a small amount of the nanobots who will begin their jobs. These little guys do everything, right down to re-coding your DNA. As the little robots do their work we should see some very minor cosmetic changes. You might get taller or shorter, we might see some changes in the face, some shifting in weight. Very minor. You wont suddenly grow breasts or anything like that." I was relieved to hear that.

"How long will it take?"

"Oh, we should see the changes within a few seconds. If you take off your clothes we should be able to watch some of the changes," said Dr. Chisholm. I stripped down to my briefs, just as curious about the changes as the men of science. With my permission they turned on a camera, so future generations could watch this historic footage.

"Hold tight," instructed Dr. Nagra, and I did so. "Ready for charge in 3, 2, 1." He must have pushed a button and a shock rushed through my body, awakening the tiny little robots. It didn't hurt a lot, more of a shock than getting a shock from touching a car door and less of a shock than that time I grabbed the electric fence at my Uncle's farm. I did say 'ouch', but mainly to get sympathy. I felt the peculiar feeling of my skin crawling and looked at my body. The doctors were right I didn't grow huge breasts, however my nipples both grew puffy, like little soldiers ready at attention. I watched one of my hands slim down a little bit and the fingers grow a little bit more slender. By the time I had finished watching that, the tingling had finished. I was 10% more female than when I woke this morning.

I consulted the mirror, as the Doctors consulted me. They also took measurements. I had got shorter, a whole 2cm. I had lost a few centimetres from my waist and had gained a few in the length of my legs. You could see I looked different, I was more… girly, I guess. But not a lot. Most people wouldn't be able to pick what was wrong with me I'm sure. It would be one of those 'Have you had a haircut?' moments. No, in fact nothing at all had happened to my hair.

However, when Dr. Chisholm talked me into losing the briefs we discovered I had lost a fair bit of penis. I was flaccid (nothing exciting about two old men poking me around down there) and a sizeable chunk was missing. "But you said!" I whined.

"We only guessed. It's going to happen anyway!" Dr. Chisholm was a good doctor with a bad bedside manner. "If it's any consolation, you're still a lot bigger than me." OK, maybe his bedside manner isn't that bad. Every teenager boy is happys to hear that he is well endowed, even if it is by a man in his fifties who has a beard.

"So, if you want, you could do more than 10%?" I asked.

"Why? Would you like to go through this process faster?" asked Dr. Nagra as he took some blood from me.

I had asked the question in an attempt to ignore the needle, "Fuck no!" I shouldn't have swore in front of the doctors but they didn't seem to take offence, "I was just wondering."

"Well, I guess we could. I, myself, wouldn't do more than 40% at a time otherwise you might accidentally trigger a chain reaction. I mean we aimed for 10% today but I think it's closer to 15%. It's not an exact science," Dr. Nagra enjoyed talking about the science behind it all, and it seemed to calm me, "If you wanted we could knock you out and do 100% the transformation with you unconscious but Dr. Fischer thinks it's still too much of a shock for the mind."

"So, will any electric shock activate the Nanobots?"

"Pretty much, so unless you want an early birthday present stay away from any power points."

"What do you think being a girl is like?"

"You're asking the wrong man," Dr. Nagra joked, "But I think you'll be fine, Mike. Girls can wear the same clothes as guys. Do the same jobs as guys. Aside from the bra, you'll be exactly the same."

I'm not sure if Dr. Nagra has enough tact to be dishonest so it was nice hearing that. And he was right. In this day and age women can do anything a man can, except perhaps write her name in the snow. All this was, was a change in costume. I could still wear my jeans and shirts, I could still be an actor if I wanted to. Even my back-up job of Drama Teacher was safe. I wouldn't have to become a stripper and wear 'boob tubes' and sundresses and bikinis. I could still be who I wanted to be. And if Holly was willing to become a lesbian I could still keep that dream alive.

"So, we'll see you back here tomorrow for another dose," Dr. Chisholm told me as he escorted me towards the exit. Considering he was from Sydney, he certainly learnt his way around our hospital fast. I still didn't know where we were.

"How many more shocks do you think it will take?"

"Not sure, Michael. We'll give you another one tomorrow and the day after. That will probably bring you up to 30%-50% complete. From then on we might admit you to the hospital, just so we can keep an eye on you." It all got very real, in 2 days I could be half female. I'm not sure what some one who is half female looks like but probably nothing like I do now. By next week I would be a woman. That was a scary thought. I was not looking forward to this at all. But maybe Dr. Nagra was right, maybe being a girl wouldn't be all that different.

"Becoming a woman will be a very different experience for you," said Dr. Fischer, the team's psychologist. She was the only woman and was probably in her early thirties. She was slender and tall; 'willowy' is a good word for her. She wore a pair of frameless glasses very low on her nose and would peer down through them to look at me. Her and my mum had been discussing options for me. Maybe moving town to start school somewhere else. Maybe being home schooled for the rest of the year. I'm sure boarding school was probably on the table as well. I didn't want any of that I needed my friends to help me. Dot, Glen, Holly and everyone else would be good for me. I didn't want to make new friends, even in a body that was good for making friends in.

But they didn't talk about that with me, at least not much. Dr. Fischer or Annette as she wanted me to call her, was slowly and painfully explaining how the female body worked. On how I would grow a vagina and how to take care of that. She told me that I would grow breasts and looking at my mother's they probably would be large. I looked at my mum's tits with interest for the first time since I stopped breastfeeding. They were big, standing proud and high on her chest. Mum had Nicole when she was only 17, so Mum was only 35. Because of her young age and large breasts, my friends often called my Mum a MILF, a title I'm sure she would be proud of. Nicole also was stacked. Maybe I would inherit my chest from Dad's side, because people often thought I took after my Dad. I hoped the females on my Dad's side weren't as gifted when it came to their mammaries.

I knew I was going to grow breasts, but I didn't think they would be big. When Dr. Nagra was talking about wearing the same clothes, I pictured myself wearing the EXACT same clothes, only with a slight bump in the chest region. Who knows? I could end up with nothing more than a 'slight bump'. I had something to pray for tonight.

Annette was quite graphic in her descriptions. I think it was her way of making me realize how serious this was. She used words like 'vaginal openings' and 'ovum'. She told me that once it was finished trained doctors would not be able to tell the difference. I stood there, glum and amazed at the same time. I looked at my phone, I had service again and about 10 messages to wade through. It was already 6pm! I had spent all day in this hellish hospital. Deb practise started at 7.30 and I was definitely going. It may be my last chance to dance with a girl and I wasn't passing it up. After that, I'd invite my friends and tell them all the news. After that, I would beg the precious Holly to help me enjoy being male one last time and we would do it, in my room and hold each other. So, suffice to say, I didn't want to be here listening to Annette talk about birth control.

"Dr. Fischer," I butted in.

"Annette," she advised.

"…Annette. I want to tell some friends tonight what is happening. Is that ok?"

"Well, if you want to, Michael. That's a choice you have to make yourself. Friends and family are very important. They can help you through many situations. But you have to understand that you are very special. This has rarely happens to people and you are the first male in Australia to be 'changing'. Some people will not be able to understand. So, I think it's a good idea to tell some friends but choose your friends wisely."

It was a silent trip in the car on the way home. Well, as silent it could be with our old car rattling loudly, and the Beach Boys (Mum's 'happy' music) blaring through the one good speaker. Love for The Beach Boys must be hereditary because listening to them could often cheer me up too. Unfortunately, The Beach Boys were singing about what life would be like "When I grow up to be a man," which only helped me sink into a foul mood. Unlike the Beach Boys (except the one who drowned under his house boat) I wont find out what it will be like to be a man. "Cheer up, Mikey," attempted Mum.

"Don't start," I warned her.

"At least you're not dying," she said blowing her cigarette smoke out the window. She didn't smoke much around us kids, only when she was carefree or frustrated, I'd like to think she was frustrated but I wasn't sure.

"No, I'm not dying but my life is going to change completely."

"It doesn't have to."

"You heard 'Annette', Mum. I'm getting a 'vaginal opening'."

"Don't be gross, Mikey!" She is the only person I let call me 'Mikey,' I hated it. I never told her I hated though. I think she really enjoyed calling me 'Mikey' it was the same thing calling Nicole 'Nicky,' a name I know she hates.

"Look, I'm going to be here for you. Kate Draffen's mum was dead when it happened to her, so you're lucky. And you're getting girly slower, that's good!" I knew what she meant, but calling it 'getting girly' made me want to vomit. "And I bet you'll even be better looking than Nic. Since you've got your Dad's genes, you'll end up looking like your Aunt Sharon and she was a model!" That was true, Dad's sister was a Chiko Roll Chick in the 90's. I saw a poster of her when I was young, straddling a motorbike, wearing a leather jacket and bikini, holding a Chiko Roll. I was too young to take notice of how sexy she was. But I bet she was quite sexy. Damn it!

Mum's 'consoling' continued, "Mikey, I'm here for you. I'll be there for you every step of the way. I've had 35 years experience being a woman, so if there is anything I can answer just ask." I was often embarrassed by my Mum, most teenagers are. She was a bit of a dag but I guess she meant what she said. I looked at her, smoking the cigarette as close to the window as possible as not to infect me.

"Thanks Mum."

Nicole was at her boyfriend's house for the night so it was just Mum and me for tea. Nicole was a hairdresser, or at least learning to be one. She had a new boyfriend, so many nights a week were spent in his house. I gulped down tea, not bothering to savour it or even taste it. I wanted to hurry up and go to Deb Practice. I had organized my friends to come meet me back at the house at 9 o'clock, where I would reveal what was going on.

"You know, everyone knows Kate Draffen's name," said my Mum between spoonfuls of her ravioli.

"Huh?"

"I mean EVERYONE knows her name. I don't even know the state Premier's name and I know her name."

"So?"

"Even if you are half as famous as her, a lot of people are going to be interested in you." Mum was right. There were stories on Mrs. Draffen for weeks after her change. They would report on everything- her family life, how she was coping, where get bought her new man clothes. My story might not be as interesting, but a boy slowly turning into a girl would attract some people. Might there even be paparazzi on our front lawn?

"Mrs. Draffen never did an interview, did she Mum?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well, if they ask me, I might do one."

"OK."

I enjoyed the walk to school for Deb Practice. I imagined there were photographers all along the way. I would sheepishly smile and keep my head down. I imagined having burly security guards who would ward off any member of the press who got a little close. "I'm just trying to live my life," I would mumble to the non-existent journalists, "You guys are vultures!" Oddly enough, this was not my first ever game of 'invisible paparazzi'. When the urge a struck me before I had run to my Mum's car, hood over my head, fending off the ghostly cameras. This time however, it felt less like pretending and more like practising.

Holly was waiting for me outside the school gym when I showed up. Well, she might have been talking to her friends too so don't get the impression that she was desperate to see me. In fact, I stood by her for a few minutes before she said anything more than 'hi' to me. This Debutante Ball meant a lot to the girls. Although there was only 4 months of actual rehearsals and preparation, most of the girls involved had been planning this since Year 7. Jessica had even asked Tall-Jason on the first week of high school. Getting a decent partner was half the challenge, Holly had asked me half way through last year, when we were rehearsing together for 'West Side Story' the school's musical that year. She was of course, Maria (Despite having blonde hair and blue eyes) and I was her brother Bernado (Despite looking very Angelo Saxon too). In regional Australia there aren't a lot of people who look Puerto Rican.

"Hello sicko!" she said after winding up her conversations with her friends, "I heard they took you to the hospital today. You going to die?"

"No, not quite." Man, I so didn't want to tell her.

"Tall-Jason said he heard that you fainted from getting your needle. Is that true?"

"No," I defended my honour, "I actually got two needles at the hospital and didn't flinch once!" OK, that may be stretching the truth wafer thin as I flinched during both of them, but I would do anything to sound like a man. Something that was going to be harder and harder to do as the days went by.

"Aren't you the big man?" she teased pulling me into the hall.

Now the dance teachers had their work cut out for them. The funniest about the Deb Ball was watching the farm boys try and dance. Boys who would mock me every other day of the year for dancing were now trying to unravel the waltz. There was always plenty of stomped toes and squeals of pain from their partners. Because of them dance lessons were a little slow moving for Holly and me. So, naturally like any fast learners we just spent our time talking. "Man, we're kicking arse tonight!" quietly cheered Holly as we performed a perfect waltz. I lead her around the circle his ease, I didn't let myself think about the next couple of days. It was time to enjoy Holly and nothing else mattered.

The song finished and I spun Holly around, adding a flourish to the end of the dance. I guess this would be one of my last times leading the dance so I wanted to enjoy it. We were the best dancers in the room. I wasn't cocky, I knew we wouldn't have stood a chance with against professional dancers but being the best in the Deb practise at Marrang College was good enough for me. "Well done everyone," said Mr. Coleman our school's woodcraft teacher who always doubled as the Debutante Ball dance teacher, alongside his wife.

"Remember to take your eyes off your feet. You can't build up confidence with your head down," said Mrs Coleman.

"Thanks Kristen. Also you need to get over this fear of boy/girl germs. Men, you need to hold your girls tighter. Really get chest-to-chest with each other. Holly and what's-your-name do a really good job. Maddi and Greg aren't too bad either. How about we do a Mars Bar challenge?"

The Mars Bar Challenge was an ill-conceived idea that Mr. Coleman believed to be genius. Each week, he would challenge two couples to go face-to-face in a competition. The couple that won would each get a Mars Bar. Although that seems like a fine premise, most of the Debutantes were acting like mini-brides, starving themselves to look perfect on their special day. So, an offer of a chocolate bar wasn't much encouragement. However, it didn't stop the naturally competitive Holly eyeing the aforementioned chocolate with determination. "Greg and Maddi don't stand a chance," she whispered in my ear. I wanted to win as well, not for the chocolate but to give Holly one last thrill before I disappoint her, genetically.

"OK challengers!" Mr. Coleman must have dreams that he is a boxing announcer, "Waltz positions!" He grandly whipped out two oranges, so grand was his gesture nobody would have been surprised if he started a magic trick right then and there. I held Holly's hand tightly assumed the waltz position. "I will place the oranges between each couple's bodies, the first one to let the fruit drop is the loser." He went to place an orange between Maddi and Greg's stomachs when Mr. Coleman realized this was the type of thing teachers shouldn't do. Instead he handed it a red-faced Maddi, "You can to it, sweetheart." He brought us our orange and Holly jammed it between our stomachs. The orange was just below her bust and it felt like a third, not-as-soft breast. She pressed up against me so hard that it was simultaneously exhilarating and painful.

Dear old Mrs. Coleman pressed play and the cassette began whirring away. For the 20 years the Colemans have organized the Deb Ball, the music stayed the same, in fact I think it was the exact same cassette. The stereo droned out the same crickety old tune it had played many times before and the two couples danced. I was very focussed on keeping in time, leading Holly and not letting the orange drop. My eyes closed deep in concentration. My feet annoyingly rattled around in my shoes, smaller than they were when I put them on this morning. All my clothes were looser than they this morning and it was going to get worse. While my shoes would always get looser, my T-shirts might start getting tight again, at least in certain areas. In fact, if I concentrated hard enough, I could feel my nipples reacting differently to all this rubbing. It was only a tiny feeling, but I knew what it meant. I read somewhere that some women can orgasm just by having their boobs rubbed alone, I hope that I wasn't going to be that type of women. Hell! I didn't want to be ANY type of woman. If ever caught the people responsible for those penis-stealing robots I'd make them regret it.

I heard an orange drop and laughed victoriously.

But it was short lived. I felt our orange roll past my leg. "Sorry Holly. I wasn't concentrating."

"That's OK." Mr. Coleman declared the other couple the winners and dismissed everyone. Mrs. Coleman reminded us that the boys were being measured for their suits next week. Everyone fell out into the warm late-Summer air, laughing, talking and making fun of the whole thing.

"Is it OK if you come around to my house for a little while now?" I wasn't able to summon the courage to ask her earlier, "I've got something important to tell you." The way I said it told her she knew this was something that needed to be said in the comfortable surrounds of my house and not the school car park.

"Let me go check with my Dad," she said scampering over to her Dad's car. While she talked Holly's Dad eyed me suspiciously, almost as if he knew I was going to ask her about having sex with her tonight. Maybe he could sense the box of condoms in my bag that I bought on the way to practice. He gave a tiny begrudging nod and asked Holly a question. "What time should Dad come and pick me up?" Holly shouted from over by the car.

"My Mum will give you a lift home."

The walk back to my house was uneasily quiet. "So… this has something to do with what happened at the Hospital, yeah?" I kicked a stone in front of my foot, not aggressively but very moodily,

"I'll tell you when we get there. A few people are going to be there, I want to do it all at once." She didn't ask any more questions but instead wrapped an arm around me and gave me a little 'buck-up' squeeze. My penis twitched a little bit but I informed it that it was a false alarm.

CHAPTER 3

Everyone was already there and waiting for me in the lounge room when Holly and I returned. The room fell silent as I walked through and for a second I thought my Mum had already told them. I felt like the corpse at a funeral, everyone was paying their respects to me and they didn't even known what, if anything, was wrong with me. I surveyed the room-

Dot had been chatting to Kev on the couch. Kevin Madsen was a year old than me and we hung out together a lot outside of school. Kev and his brother, Darcy (who was a year younger than me) lived around the corner from us and we'd always go swimming at the beach together. Both Kev and Darcy (Who everyone called 'Mads') were really good friends of mine and were usually the first I'd turn to for advice. I think Kev had a tiny bit of a crush on Dot but Dot thought he was far too arrogant for her. Glen was there, talking to Mads and I gestured for Holly to sit down.

It was only then, when I was surrounded by my best friends, on the cusp of revealing my secret did I realize I didn't have a clue how to tell them. "Umm… hi! Thanks for coming, everyone." That was all I could come up with. Usually Glen or Kev would have chipped in with a joke to embarrass me but they both knew what I was about to say was serious. I could really use a joke right about now. "I'm about to tell you something. But I only invited my best friends because it's a bit of a secret. So I'd really like it to be kept quiet. But you wont have to keep it quiet for too long I'm sure everyone will know soon."

"Is it good news?" foolishly asked Mads.

"No, not really. It's pretty horrible news," I swallowed hard and prepared to do it quick, like ripping off a band-aid. That was advice Dot had given me about the needle but it seemed appropriate to my situation now. "I'm… I was at the hospital today because…" Another pause, so much for doing it quick, "I'm lucky number two in Australia!" My brain was a bloody idiot, this was only going to confuse things.

"Number two? What you mean?" ask a confused and concerned Dot. A look of puzzlement was generally shared amongst the assembled.

"Well, Kate Draffen was number one and I'm number two," There was a silence I couldn't interpret, was it stunned realization or quiet bewilderment? I ploughed through the explanation: "They found Nanobots in my blood today. I have P.E."

"What?" laughed Glen, the only person to speak up, "You're not a girl." I nervously looked at my feet, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze.

"By next week I will be." I'm pretty sure there was no silence left in the world because it seemed like all of it was in my lounge room.

I slowly explained Dr. Chisholm and the small electric shocks that will make me girlier as each day passes. I told them swallowing coins and how from that the Nanobots amassed their armies. I cried as I told Holly I was sorry that I was unable to be her Deb partner. I showed them some of the small changes that had already begun to happen. For a good ten minutes there was no silence in the room whatsoever, I filled every nook and cranny with explanations and fears and pleas. The speech ended with me saying, "Look, if you don't want to be my mate anymore I'll understand it's a weird situation to be in but I'll need at least one friend to get me through this." With that said and finally no more words pouring of me, I sat down and promptly cried.

"Hey chin up, Michael," Mads was the first to approach me, "It's not like you're dying. We'll help you through it."

Dot cuddled me,"Yeah, it's OK," was all she said but it made things feel so much better.

"I'd hug you but I can't get to you," called Glen, joking about the line that had formed.

"C'mon stand up! Group hug," instructed Dot. Someone grabbed my arm and stood me up, from everywhere people hugged me. Some were crying, some were laughing because the group hug is the messiest of hugs.

"Thanks guys!" I said quietly, as the hug disbanded, like all hugs do.

"So what are you going to call yourself?" asked Kev.

"Not Michelle," I quickly answered.

Mads laughed, "Because of Michelle Taylor in Year 10?" I nodded.

"I guess I'll wait to see what type of girl I become before I choose a name." I was happy to have such friends, friends who would look after me through this whole ordeal.

They always say, "A friend in need is a friend indeed." That never made sense to me, of course they are going to be your friend they need something from you. The friends indeed are the ones that help you when you need something. My friends indeed began to leave, because it was quite late on a school night and despite their good friend becoming a girl, life had to continue as normal. That's the thing about lives, they keep going.

The Madsen Brothers were the first to leave, they walked home. Dot's Mum knocked on the front door to take Glen and Dot home. They both hugged me and told me they would see me at school. It was just me and Holly left. She looked uncomfortable, as if she was the one who was sick. I sensed she wanted to go home and almost gave up the plan. But this was my last chance, I was about to forfeit my gender. My penis may be nothing more than a nub tomorrow so I wanted to use it for its purpose, if only once.

"It's not contagious, is it?" she asked me warily. That wasn't a great prelude to sex and I knew it. If I was more observant I would have noticed that Holly had been a little stand-offish since the announcement. She didn't openly comfort me, content to simply echo what had already been said. I didn't notice that.

"No, you can't catch it. There's usually only one or two cases a month and usually in completely different spots on the globe. Nobody knows how you catch it." Again, not the right kind of talk to be seductive.

"Do you want a drink, you two?" asked my Mum, standing in the doorway, "A juice, coffee, even a beer or wine?" My Mum liked to think she was a 'Cool Mum' by offering us alcohol. Maybe that was cool at 15 and 16, but we were both 17 and quite able to find booze on our own.

"Mum, me and Holly were both about to go to my room for a talk," I said, however no plans had been made. Holly cautiously followed me to my room.

At least I could tick one thing off my list. I had Holly Morissey in my bedroom! I was dreaming about this kind of miracle happening as recently as 2 days ago. Although she was wearing some sexy lingerie and not a T-shirt of the Rock-to-Reef trip she did last year and blue shorts. But I had to admit she did look sexy in them, especially the view of the curvature of her taut buttocks inside her shorts. She looked around my room, at all the pictures stuck to the wall. I had a lot of photos: photos of Dot and me in Melbourne- our big trip to the city, photos of Glen and me at the beach mucking around, photos from Christmas parties and birthday parties, photos of the musicals and plays I've done. Holly was in a few of them. She was always smiling or pulling a face, posing in costumes, a stark contrast to how sullen she looked now.

I sat down on the bed and tried to summon my nerves to say something romantic. But romance was not the mood of the day and it would be impossible to use it in the situation. Genetic modifying robots weren't sexy, knowing that her seductor was doomed to have the same sexual organs as her wasn't sexy. If this was going to work I had to use pity.

Pity is never a good reason to do something, but at least I was pitiful in spades. "I'm so sorry I can't do the Deb with you!" I apologized, it was something I had already said a few times but this time was meant more of a 'pity comment' than a real apology.

"That's OK," she said, her soft voice barely above a whisper, "It's not your fault. We're only two weeks in, I can get a new partner." What? How dare she? She is supposed to be feeling bad for me, not already making new plans for the Deb! I bet she already has a shortlist of whom to ask.

Time to up the sympathy, "I'm just so scared. This is all so weird," Nice Michael, keep going, "Holly, thanks so much for being my friend, it means so much to me." Good, good!

She sat down on my bed to comfort me. My nose twitched at the gorgeous scent she always wore. My penis, slightly wary this time, began to rise. "C'mon Michael. I know it's weird but I'm sure you're going to make a wonderful girl. I mean all the girls at school already think you're sweet, so you're going to have lots of friends." This was not heading in the right direction.

"But I like being a guy, Hol. There's so many things I haven't tried," I steered the conversation in the right direction.

"There's nothing a girl can't do that a guy can do," she joke-protested, looking me in the eye.

"Well, there is one thing," she slowly cottoned on as I began my proposition, "Look Holly, I've always had a crush on you. Big time. Ever since we did our first musical and we were both in the chorus, back in Year 7. I know this is a lot to unload on you at the moment."

"Michael, you know that I have a boyfriend." I knew that little problem would come up.

"I know that and Jake's a real nice guy. It's just that my time is short and I want to experience this one last thing before…" I didn't want to say 'I turn into a girl,' I almost wished I could say 'before I die,' mainly because that would be so much harder to turn down.

Holly took a laboured breath and craned her head up, as if she had a stiff neck. I loved the way she nibbled her bottom lip when she was frustrated, but I didn't like it then, it wasn't a good sign. "Michael, you know I love you," I knew how this sentence would end, and she finished it, "as a friend." She kept talking but it didn't matter, I had blown it. Not only would I 'die' a virgin, I might have wrecked a good friendship at the same time, a friendship I could have really used when I joined the bra and panty set. For a longer moment than I should have thought it, I wished I were dying at least then if I didn't get the sex the ruined friendship wouldn't have mattered much.

She gave me hug. Not a hug the hinted that sex would follow, but a 'this is as close as we are going to get' hug. I desperately tried to not smell her. "Thanks so much for asking me," said Holly, crying a little, "I know this must have been so hard for you!"

"Yeah," I admitted, "I almost didn't do it."

"Well, I'm glad you did. It makes a girl feel wanted. It's just I'm a virgin too and I really want to save it for some one I really love. Shit! I sound so selfish!"

"No, no, no. Don't beat yourself up about it. You're not selfish. I understand," and you know what, I did.

"If you want I can call Alison, she gives it up pretty easy," the mischievous glint in Holly's eye returned.

"As desperate as I am, I'm not THAT desperate," and I laughed. And she laughed. We both laughed, probably too hard at a joke of that calibre. But we needed it. She leaned forward and I caught a glimpse of what she was saving for her boyfriend. Lucky bugger!

"So, does your Mum think we're doing it now?" Holly asked.

"Probably," for all I knew she could be listening at the door.

"You don't want to be a girl, do you?"

"Not really." She gave me a look that told me she was a little disappointed in me. As if becoming female was almost a gift being bestowed on me. Holly seemed to enjoy being a girl. She wasn't all lace and petticoats either, she played sports and surfed and did anything a boy could do. But it wasn't the girl part that bothered me, if I had been born a girl I wouldn't have anything against it. The problem lay in the fact that I was turning into one. I was changing teams mid-play and that doesn't work. I didn't know how they played the game or even the simplest rules. I told Holly about that and she removed the look of disappointment.

"I can teach you to be a girl," she smiled.

"Thanks, but there isn't much I want to learn."

"What? I can teach you about clothes and make-up and stuff like that. You're probably going to be pretty hot." Was I? Whenever I thought about being a girl I only saw the parts: the boobs, the pussy, the skinny arms, the round arse. I never thought about the sum of the parts. If I was attractive to guys there was going to be a whole new set of problems.

"Holly, the only difference between me and me two weeks from now is going to be my gender. I'm not about to start wearing dresses and make-up. It's going to be Michael with boobs. That's it."

"Well, that's seems healthy," Holly said in a way that I couldn't tell whether she was sarcastic or not.

"I'm still going to be me. If I could dance with you at the Deb I would, but I don't think the Deb committee would allow it. They didn't let Tracy and Donna do it together." Tracy and Donna were two lesbians in our year level.

"OK, just remember if you want help, I'm here for you." We pretty much tied up the conversation after that.

Mum drove her home. I stayed in my bedroom, citing that I had a big day tomorrow. Instead of resting up for it I wept. Wept for myself, really. I didn't want to have this happen to me. I didn't deserve this. I'm not religious but I did swear at whatever god might be up there. I looked at how feminine my hands had become and begged to anyone to stop it. Sure, I was selfish but as I was attached to my body it was a lot easier to think about it than worry about the trouble in Sudan or the homelessness problem. I'm not sure how I picture the events with Holly would go, but that wasn't it. I was so stupid to think that she would fuck me just because my penis was disappearing.

I ran outside. There weren't many good things about our house. Even with only three of us in there it still seemed cramped. The house sat one notch above in disrepair and we worked hard to keep it there. The plumbing was skittish and the paint was peeling almost everywhere. What our house lacked in presentation it made up for in location. Mum had bought it as a single girl when she first moved to town. Marrang wasn't very big back then, so she picked it up for less than a song. However, less than a song was still expensive for my Mum and she worked tirelessly to own her little heaven. The reason she wanted to live in her little house; the location. It was right on the beach.

And I mean right on the beach. We had about 5 metres of grass out the backdoor and from then on it was the beach. No fence or anything. Houses either side of Mum's cost over a million dollars and Mum could have easily moved us out of the little sea side shack and gotten something a lot nicer once the property boom happened but she didn't. We all loved the beach too much that even moving a few kilometres out would hurt us.

I learnt to swim right away, so did Nicole and from that day there were only a handful of days when I didn't swim. Those days I was usually sick and it was raining, it had to take both of them to stop me diving in. If someone asked me to picture home, I would conjure up the image of the frothy waves crashing against the shore rather than the ramshackle house that I slept in.

So, that was where I ran. Feeling the cold sand give way under my feet was the feeling of home for me. I did a lot of my late night thinking on the beach, often I dreamt about bedding Holly but now it had to remain as a dream. I continued my crying. Here, even the crying seemed at home. When I cried in my room it felt like I was being weak. But here on the beach, waves flinging themselves onto the shore, it felt natural. I closed my eyes and let the horrible thoughts inside.

"I thought I'd fine you here," said a voice. The body accompanying the voice snuggled in beside me, shielding herself from the cold night wind.

"Dot? How did you get here?"

"I rode my bike. No-one was answering at your house, so I thought you might be out here." Dot shivered despite it only being mildly cool. Dot was one of those girls who was always cold. I think it was because she was so slight that the wind literally chills her bones. I pulled off my jumper and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said through clenched teeth, "So, you have Pussy Envy, do you?" Sometimes I found Dot's frankness endearing but not today.

"I don't have Pussy Envy. I have Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration," I snarled at her.

"I was kidding. Michael, I think you're being really brave. Despite crying on the beach you're taking it well." Dot was an only child and probably had never comforted anyone before. She wasn't doing well but at least how bad she was doing was cheering me up.

"Thanks."

"Life is going to get a little weird," she said watching the waves.

"Just a little, yeah," I said watching her watching the waves.

"I don't how you put up with being a guy, walking around with your dick flopping around. It's all so messy, being a girl is much more neat."

"Well, girls have boobs bouncing all around the place."

"Umm… I don't really have that problem," she said like she said many things, bluntly. I felt foolish, Dot was pretty much flat in that area. Was she acting blunt because that throwaway comment hurt, I hoped not and asked if she was upset.

"No, not at all. Like I said, I'm neat. No extra surface area on me. Ha," she laughed, "You're probably going to have bigger tits than me!" I groaned, I didn't want to think things like that.

"I just want to enjoy being a guy while I can," I stated, more as a mission statement to myself than a comment to the shivering girl beside me.

"And what does that entail? Pissing standing up and earning more money for the same job?" Dot asked, poking me with her slender finger to provoke a laugh. I did laugh and then the silence kicked in.

I don't what came over me but I said something that I didn't expect to, "I asked Holly to have sex with me."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want miss my chance having sex as a guy."

"So, I presume she said no?"

"Oh yeah!" I was almost proud of my spectacular failure. It was at least, spectacular. Dot stood up and thoroughly wiped her jeans, flinging sand everywhere.

"Come on then," she said heading for the house.

"Where are we going?" I said and stood up as well.

"Well, if precious little Miss Holly wont, I will."

I darted across the beach to catch up with Dot, "What?" I incredulously asked her. Was she being serious? Had my luck changed? Was I now getting sex without even looking for it? That only happens to the best looking of male movie stars and almost all women. I had never really thought of Dot as a sexual object, she had been too good a friend for too long a time. I nudged her image from the friend file in my brain over to the sexual partner file to explore my feelings. Immediately I could see she had a very nice arse to compensate for her lack of tits. I was surprised how fast I could turn her into a sex object.

While my brain ticked over with possibilities, Dot started talking, "Michael, you're my best friend and you know what best friends do? They help each other. So, I'm going to let you fuck me. Don't think that I wont get enjoyment too, I probably will. But my pleasure is not the matter at hand, it's yours. Saying that, we are only going to have straight, up-and-down, vanilla sex. No anal sex, no head jobs, in fact no 'jobs' of any kind, no weird positions, no tying me up. Just no crazy stuff, OK? And please don't send me flowers afterwards. I know how your mind works, you'll think it will be a nice way to say thank you. Just a simple thank you will do, thank you very much! Also don't misconstrue this as love. It's not love, we're just friends, OK? I may be desperate but there's no way that I'm going to start dating a guy who has one week left being a guy." She finally took a breath.

That speech was said at such a rapid speed that I was finally catching up with her when we reached the house. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I sincerely asked her. She stared at me, her piercing eyes telling me the answer. She grew taller, all of a sudden as she got up on tippee-toes. She inclined her head at the right angle in preparation to kiss me. Suddenly, the fog of 12 years of friendship cleared and I saw how sexy she could be. She wasn't some sexless, feminist bookworm, she was a sensual woman looking for a little tenderness. I leaned down to join her in a kiss. Slowly, my head reached her and I tilted it as not to bang noses. I was going to kiss my best friend. Then I heard it. A giggle, a stifled giggle, but a giggle none the less.

"Sorry," she laughed, "Please continue." I hit her.

"I'm sorry, it's just we've been friends for years. It's a little weird!" she laughed quietly as we walked into my room, "It's like kissing my brother, if I had one."

I sighed frustrated, "Well, if we don't do it tonight it will be like kissing your sister."

"If I had one," she added, "Look, it's going to be hard to make this romantic sex so let's just treat this as it is."

"And what is it?" I asked. She closed the bedroom door behind her and sidled up to me. A wandering little hand fumbled to get under my t-shirt and into my jeans.

"A going away party for your penis," she purred as she gave it a polite tug. My best friend had just touched my penis. To almost anybody that is a strange thing to happen, best friends don't touch each other genitals. Dot must have noticed it too, she gasped when she grabbed it again, "Bye bye Michael's penis."

I had a pressing question to ask Dot, "You're not giving up your virginity for me, are you?" We always talked about everything and I never heard about any sex. But that was probably a thing only girls talk about with other girls. Either way I knew she hadn't slept with anyone at school. It seemed a sad way to give up your virginity.

"No Michael, I am not. When I went to Perth for the Christmas Holidays with my folks, I kinda hung out with a guy," her squeaky voice lost its bravado, and she sounded shy, "He was nice. We hung out a lot. His name was Michael too." Dot sounded like a regular teenage girl, something that hardly ever happened. "We had sex a few times. I got pretty good at it, I think. We still e-mail."

"Aww… that's sweet," I joked, "He wont mind that you've got your hands down my pants?"

"Nah, he had a girlfriend. We were just playing around."

Dot was tired of the limited amount of space inside my jeans and begun undoing the button. I watched her, strangely detached from the whole state of affairs. If doing Holly was a dream come true than I don't know where having Dot undo my pants comes from. My jeans collapsed to the floor. Dot grunted, "I know that you haven't done this before, so here's a hint: It takes two of us!" I awoke from my daze and kicked off my jeans, hitting a stack of CDs and sending them plummeting to the ground. Ignoring them, I pulled of my T-shirt and looked for something else to do. Since all I had left was my briefs and Dot was fully clothed (including my jumper!), I decided to even the score. I yanked the jumper off of her and then her shirt. I didn't know she wasn't wearing a bra, so she was a lot more naked than I thought she would be.

Dot's breasts were small, even though she was quite small herself. If it wasn't for the pinkish, erect nipples her chest could be mistaken for a young boy's. "Hey look," she bubbly squealed, "We're chest twins!" I looked down and saw that I was sporting two plump, erect nipples myself. I couldn't control the frown that grabbed a hold of my lips and forced them to purse up angrily. "Cheer up, you sook!" Dot teased as she turned around, "At least you don't have something as girly as this!" She threw her head back and her dark, black hair flew majestically through the air. She wiggled out of her jeans, exposing a perfectly round, definitely feminine bum. It was like all the femininity in her body was redirected into her back. From the back there was no mistaking her for a boy. She had a tiny waist and a round, firm and inviting pair of buttocks. Even if I was a little girly in the back area there was no way I'd come close to that.

We both stood there in only our underwear. It was a stand off, as tense as any stand off in any Western film. I eyed her mound and she eyed my erect penis, fighting to be free. "You first," I said.

"No, you," she replied, teasing me by running her thumbs under the elastic band of her yellow cotton pair of panties. The wind rustled in through my open window.

"How about we got together?" I suggested.

"Good idea," Dot agreed and added, "Just a warning- I know you are probably used to porn but I haven't shaved down there."

It was my time for a confession too, "Just a warning for you- The Nanobots have already gone to town down there. I've lost about a quarter of length and some girth. Also my balls are smaller but I don't know why you would care about that."

"I don't."

"That's cool. OK, on the count of three… 1, 2, 3!"

I stripped off and Dot became naked as well. We sighed a sigh of relief. "OK, our friendship is never going to be the same," Dot smiled, completely naked. I nodded, also naked. There was a pause as I examined my partner's body. So what it wasn't the heavenly body that Holly wore? It was a woman and she was willing to have sex with me. Dot eyed me as well, "That's 3/4 of what you were packing? Michael, you must have been huge! I mean, you are still quite big now!" I felt a sharp pang of disappointment. Here I was being praised for my penis size and I only had a few days with it, and only one more with it being larger than average.

"Bloody hell! I could have been a porn star!" I complained.

"You could still be!" Dot winked at me. I pictured myself, bouncing up and down on a man's penis, my humongous tits flying everywhere, threatening to knock me out. I moaned like all the girls in every porno I had ever seen.

"Don't even joke about that," I growled.

"Oh, I didn't mean when you are a girl… I meant that tonight… you could pretend… forget about it!" Dot said, climbing on the bed.

I went for my bag and grabbed the box of condoms. I ripped open the box. It seemed a shame the store only sold them in packs in twelve, I wouldn't really need twelve. As far as I could see the next time I had sex it would be completely free of penises. I fumbled with a packet and heard Dot instruct, "Come and get me ready first, then put on the franger!" I was nervous, naturally. Not only was this my first time, this was my only chance be a man inside a woman (as opposed to my transformation which will make me a man inside a woman's body). If I screwed this up, I could only dream about it.

I lay on the bed beside her, befuddled. "What am I supposed to do? How do I turn you on?" I asked. The female body needs a manual. I had no idea what to do. I gingerly played with her nipples, and she seemed to like that. I even licked them, which made her moan once. But there was no real breasts mass to caress and every time I went to kiss her on the lips she couldn't stop laughing. I took a journey southward. Amongst the soft pubic hair was the jewel of the crown, a place where every teenage boy would love to spend time. I rubbed it, more scared of it than it was of me. I pushed the thought that I would soon have one of these out of my head. Dot did nothing more to help me than moan when something felt good. I tickled what I thought to be her clitoris and she rewarded me with a deep, pleasurable moan. I continued to work on that while her vagina prepared itself for my entry.

"You can put the franger on now," she moaned, alerting me it was time. I sat on the bed and ever so carefully rolled the condom down my rod. I had followed the instructions properly and was sure that I think was on properly. Just to make sure I asked Dot to come over and inspect my work. "Looks good to me," she said, lightly caressing it in her hands. It soon gained back its stiffness that it lost by the emasculating experience of putting a condom on. Dot looked more pretty than I had ever seen her- porcelain white with jet-black hair and eyes. How somebody living in a beach town could never get a tan amazed me.

The atmosphere was electric, the feeling most teenagers get when they have sex. But in the mix was the fact this was so special. Most of the people with P.E don't know they have it, so they can never savour their last time, like I could. One minute they are one gender, the next they are the other. Only a slither of me was female, while the throbbing coming from my penis reminded me I was still very much male. I took my penis in my hand and nudged the welcoming lips of her sweet pussy. Dot breathed heavily as I slowly eased my way inside of her. "Now you're a man," she said sweetly.

"Sadly, for the first and last time," I said, drawing my penis back so that I could push forward again.

Sex, I found out, is not always like the movies. Sometimes what you are doing hurts the girl, some things she does hurts you. I accidentally pinned her hair to the bed with my palm and when she moved her head she yelped in pain. I also pushed too deep and she screamed. I wasn't sure of the nature of the screaming, so I went deeper. It wasn't until she swore quite threateningly at me, did I know I was doing wrong. We changed the positions around, probably too much, to find something we both liked. Dot took charge, choreographing the whole event like the boss she liked to be. Doggy style was what seemed to work best, which I was happy with because it gave me a great view of her impressive arse, which in turn spurned me on.

The problem with doing anything in real life that you dream about is that it has to be done in real life. The dream world is full of possibilities, where every single thing is exactly as you want it to be. Real life was a lot of variables- things that are tricky to control and other things you have no control over at all. Young men, untrained, often have problem satisfying a woman. Therefore I wasn't surprised when I had finished, before I could please Dot. Was I ashamed? Totally. Was it to be expected? Probably. I offered to finish her using my hands or mouth or something. "I'm happy if you are happy," she smiled, pulling her panties back on. I was happy, as time ticked mercilessly away I had been able to tick something off my list, with the help from my best friend. I told her I was happy and she hugged me. I hugged her back, careful not to touch her with the used condom I was holding in one hand.

"I feel sweaty and gross," Dot said as she continued to dress.

"Are you going?" I asked her glumly. She pointed at my clock radio, which indicated it was far too late to be up for anybody with business in the morning. "Fair enough," I relented.

"You were pretty good," Dot said, "With a bit more practice you could have been great," Dot finally noticed how comments like those upset me, "Sorry Michael. I'm sure you're going to make a great girl too."

"I don't want to be a girl!"

"If there was something I could do to stop it I would."

"I know."

"So, I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

"Probably."

CHAPTER 4

Sleep came surprisingly easy to me. I had always have been able to sleep no matter the situation. I slept a long, dreamless sleep. Maybe because my dreams had just been lived out I didn't need to dream them. I'm not sure what kept away the nightmares of me wearing petticoats, sucking cocks or having my period, but I was happy for my uneventful sleep. The next thing I remembered was my Mum's voice calling for me to get out of bed.

Since Mum did a lot of night work at the pub, she wasn't usually awake when I went to school. I made my own lunch and walked myself to school therefore it was weird having Mum drive me the miniscule distance to school. We were meeting with the Principal and Dr. Annette Fischer to discuss 'options'. I wondered how many people knew in total about my predicament. There were the medical men at the School Medical Check, Dr. Chisholm and his gang, Mum, my friends, maybe a nurse or two, probably the government and now the Principal. I wondered who those people had told, and how long it would be before the press got wind.

It was nice to wake up and notice my body hadn't become more female during my sleep. I was scared that, somehow an electric volt would fly in from somewhere and convert me in my sleep. That wasn't the case and I was as male as when I went to sleep. I inspected my body in the shower and noticed that I had some way to go before anyone would call me 'Miss'.

Mrs. Higgins was our school's Principal and had been since time begun. She was a stern taskmaster bordering on doddering old grandmother. She had a lot of students to take care of, but she already knew me. She loved the school musicals and plays and would always compliment me on my performance. "Please sit down," she crowed like a magpie when all entered. Since I was groomed to be a gentleman, I pulled out chairs for both Mum and Annette before sitting down myself. There seemed to be too much oestrogen in this room and it appeared to be contagious.

Annette proceeded to get down to brass tacks. She talked about my problem in full, how they were 'easing' me into my new gender, how I was healthy enough to come to school and that soon I would be a fully functioning female. Her considerably long life experience had not prepared Mrs. Higgins for Nanobots and spontaneous gender changes. She eyed me with an odd mix of fear and contempt and you know what? I don't blame her. I was a freak. Only one of two in Australia, there are more albino dwarves in this country than P.E. sufferers. I would be scared of me if I wasn't me!

But to her credit, Mrs. Higgins was calm and thoughtful. They were discussing whether or not I could attend school over the next couple of days. Frankly, that didn't seem to be much of an issue. In two days or so I had to go and stay in the hospital, until it was complete anyway. Mrs. Higgins said, "I don't want my school to turn into a media circus, you understand? The safety of my students is always my number one concern."

"But it is important that Michael continues life as normal so that it isn't completely turned upside down, when the transformation happens." I'm not sure how me going to Maths class today was going to stop my life being a little weird when I grew a pussy but I left all that thinking stuff to Annette. It was finally agreed that I could go to school today, and if the press were around tomorrow I would remain at home. That simple compromise seemed to please both of them.

I wanted to stay here in Marrang College, sure it wasn't the best school in the state but like Annette said I needed things to remain familiar. I did not want to be shipped out to a Boarding School or (perish the thought) an All Girls School. So I watched Mrs. Higgins like a hawk, ready to fight for my right to stay in a middling government school. Ever since the car trip this morning I knew exactly what I was going say to her. I had practiced my speech in my head, numerous times and would cry if it were required. With the small battle of whether I could stay at school for the next two days over I was ready for the big one: Whether or not to kick Michael Taylor out on his girly butt.

"Mrs. Taylor," I almost swore at Mrs. Higgins until I realised she was not talking to me, but my mother, "You'll be happy to know that the Parents Association has kindly donated a new summer and winter uniform for Michael to wear." Mum nodded warmly and I sat there stunned. Uniforms? I guess I was staying. Mrs. Higgins must have figured out that keeping me at the school would be an easier choice than making me find a new school. The press for kicking a brand new girl, scared and confused, out of school would have been horrible and she knew that. I was more than a little disappointed that I wasn't able to use my prepared speech.

'Mum would have loved it, maybe I might recite it for her tonight,' I thought.

Mrs. Higgins said that there was to be a special Year 11 assembly to explain what was happening to me on Thursday. I was happy that I wouldn't be there. Knowing how fast gossip travels in this school I wouldn't be surprised if everyone knew already. She would remind them that I should be treated like any other student on my return. I'm not sure if that was at all possible

Annette nutted out some other details, such as special consideration for future exams (Yay! Despite being a slight to feminism, I could now blame bad grades on my gender!), counselling services at the school, changing of school records to my upcoming gender and other various and boring things. Throughout the hour long meeting the only thing I said was "Good morning" and that was right at the start. My Mum was also remarkably silent. After all the business was completed, Mrs. Higgins slightly cautiously leaned over to me and asked, "So what will be your name, Mr. Taylor?"

"I'm not sure," I mumbled.

"Well, when you chose one can you inform me so we know what to call you when you return," a smile that was tricky to decipher crept along her face. Was it genuine or was it there only to placate me?

"Yes Mrs. Higgins," I said shyly, now unsure if I could have done my impassioned speech at all.

"Is there any other problems you need sorted?" the wrinkly old principal asked my Mum and I. I looked at Mum and she, like the flake she is, absent-mindedly shook her head.

"I was doing my Deb with Holly Morissey from 11A and I guess now she will be partnerless. She still will be able to do the Deb, wont she?" In hindsight, it wasn't a real question. Rehearsals have only been going for two weeks and nothing formal had been signed or anything. Of course, she could her Deb. All she would have to do is find a new partner and it would be fine. I guess I asked the question because I wanted to say SOMETHING in the meeting and because I was worrying more about Holly than me this morning.

"Holly will be looked after," Mrs. Higgins reassured me, she then looked my straight in the eye and smiled another one of those undecipherable smiles, "If you like, after you are…." I watched her choose her words carefully, "After you get back from hospital, I invite you to become one of the Debutantes yourself." I couldn't believe what Mrs. Higgins had offered me. Me being a Debutante? I almost scoffed. Did she think I was becoming a girl on a whim so that I could wear pretty dresses? Had she not listened to a word Annette had said about 'troubling time', 'massive amounts of stress' and 'possible depression'? Or was she just trying to scare me, acting like the old witch she sometimes looked like? "It would be a shame to not have a dancer as good as you not among the couples."

I was blind sighted so badly by that offer that I wandered of out her office in a weird daze. Mum thanked Dr. Fischer for all her work and Dr. Fischer said she would see me this afternoon. I waved and mumbled something that could have been a farewell of some type. "That Annette is a nice woman. Come to think of it, so was Mrs. Higgins," I could hear the Mum stopped short of saying something else. I'm sure she knew that it would upset me and that's why she withheld it. She had been doing that a lot since she heard the news. My Mum kissed me, told me to stay strong and left home. It was only 10 minutes before the recess bell would ring, so instead of heading to class I headed to my locker.

The Year 11 Study Room is where our lockers are, it also has tables, chairs, a sink, a fridge and a drink machine. Just enough things to make us think we have our own little utopia, so that we feel better than the Year 7-10s. The Year 12s have an even better study room, we can only dream about it until we move up the year level. There was only 5 or so people in there when I entered and every single one of them fell silent. They knew. They were just talking about me. Somebody told. Aware I had 10 eyes watching my every move, I threw my bag on top of my locker and went to say something.

The 5 students who were sat around weren't best friends of mine but I did know them. They were all 'Group A' kids, too cool to go to their morning classes. "Hi," I said, "It's true." Why not be upfront about it? They all seemed startled by my honesty and kept their distance. "It's not contagious," I reminded them. They exploded into a mass of questions.
No, it didn't hurt. Although, I wasn't enjoying it.
Yes, they are using the electronic pulse procedure to make the process less painful.
No, I don't know how I caught it.
Yes, I know I already look a bit different.
No, I don't know what I will look like.
No, Kate Draffen hasn't called me.
Yes, I would be coming back to school.
Yes, I was scared.

They all asked their questions politely and with care not to offend. Not even our continual class clown, Trevor Tull, made a single joke. I told them that I planned to be the same old Michael after the change, that I'll only look different. I'll still be studying the same classes, I'll still go swimming every day and I'll still keep the poster of Jessica Alba up on my bedroom wall. "So, you'll be a lesbian?" someone asked.

I replied, "No, I'll be heterosexual Michael in a girl's body," but it was interrupted by the school bell.

"Watch the reaction of people when they see I'm here," I said as we heard the unmistakable sound of gossip heading towards us. The gossip was rolling around the school ground, gathering in size and speed like a snowball down a mountain.

It was a deep, seismic rumble that was saying things like "I'd freak if I grew tits" and "I heard that he paid for it to be done to him." The gossip avalanche came crashing into the Study room and stopped dead. Jokes, questions and conspiracy theories all stopped dead as people saw me. The whole thing was almost funny enough to stop me worrying about my problem for a second or two.

"Hey lover," said Dot, winking at me, "How was your big meeting?"

"OK, I don't have to leave Marrang and I got a new summer uniform, free of charge! How was your classes this fine morning?" Dot threw her sport bag in her locker,

"Crappy, I hate having P.E… Uh, I mean Physical Education first thing in the morning. Especially when I hardly got any sleep last night. You're lucky you got out of it, Mr. Dellaqua had us running laps the entire time." The school's policy to fight obesity was to have every student study Physical Education with the intolerable Mr. Dellaqua. It didn't seem such a good idea since Mr. Dellaqua's teaching methods drove a lot of people to comfort eating. "Hey, next time you go to Mr. Dellaqua's class you'll probably need a sports bra!" coming out of anyone else's mouth, I would have hit them but Dot was an only child, and this way her weird way of cheering me up.

"Saying things like that doesn't really cheer me up, Dorothy." She hated being called by her full name but sometimes it's called for.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled but she would probably do it again very soon.

"That's OK. Hey, guess what?"

"What?" she asked.

"There's one good thing about becoming a girl."

"What's that?"

"I get to go in the girls change room!" I said. And to tell the truth I was excited about the prospect of seeing my female classmates in various stages on undress. I could almost picture it; Alanna and Kristen comparing bras, Alana, Josie and Lilly all washing each other, Alison Sorokin trying on her new G-string. I know a lot of guys who would give their left testicle to see inside the girls' change room, I was just overpaying, that's all.

"They're not like that, you know?"

"What?"

"Girls Change Room. They aren't like you picture them." How did she know how I pictured them? For all she knows I could be imagining them perfectly. "Most girls don't walk around topless, only the slutty ones do. We don't shower together. We all shower in separate stalls, those of us who do shower. The rest just change facing a wall." The dream slowly deflated right there on the floor in front of us.

"Thanks for ruining the one upside I found," I grunted. Dot pointed at a large-chested girl walking past, "You'll be happy to know she walks around topless. If that cheers you up?"

"Yes, yes it does."

The remainder of the school day was nicely mundane. There's something comforting about being able to turn off your brain while a teacher drones on. I was mostly able to forget as soon as school finished I would go to the hospital to become a little more female. However, I couldn't keep those thoughts from appearing all day. It was the last class of the day, Physics, when I couldn't hold on any more. I quietly sobbed to myself, sitting in the back row. I excused myself and had a louder more cleansing cry outside.

I had never wanted to stay at school after the final bell had rang. Like most students the final bell said to me it was time to escape for another day. I could do what I wanted, swim, talk to friends or just watch TV. No timetable controlled me. That last bell of the day was one of the greatest sounds in the world. This bell, however, tolled for me. With each 'ding' it donged it told that I due for a measuring, a prodding and a feminising electric shock. I said goodbye to Glen and Dot and told the Madsen brothers I would catch up with them later. I tried to say bye to Holly but she left so quickly I didn't have a chance. I hadn't been able to say anything at all to her all day, we didn't have classes together and she was never around during recess or lunch. It was almost like she was avoiding me.

Mum was waiting for me out the front of school. Compared to other Mums she looked frazzled and worried but that's the way she always looked. We went through the motions. She asked me how my day was and I said 'good' which wasn't true but easy to say. My Mum was nice enough not to ask any follow-ups and we clambered into the car. "So, ready for the hospital?" she asked.

All of the doctors were excitedly waiting for me, like a litter of puppies waiting for their master to come home from work. Their professionalism was the only thing stopping them jumping up and licking my face. I was so special to them or more to the point the tiny little robots that were inside me were so special. They waited until I sat down to begin asking the questions. The whole situation reminded me of devoted fans getting the chance to ask their favourite movie star questions, they were polite, courteous and increasingly intrusive.

The questions died down and their professional excitement slowly ebbed away. For somebody with such a fascinating situation I could be wholly boring. I refrained from revealing my last night's activities with Dot and lied about how well I was coping. I'm sure at least one of these highly skilled medical practitioners knew I was avoiding questions but none of them let on. Annette and Dr. Jensen, who wasn't a real doctor yet but was studying to be, left, leaving me with good old Dr. Chisholm and Dr. Nagra. Out of all the doctors these two were my favourites. Dr. Nagra's blunt honesty was almost charming and Dr. Chisholm seemed like a bit of a father figure to me.

"I had sex last night," I blurted out. I know girls don't usually like it when you brag about sleeping with them but this was different. This was to doctors! Both of the doctors looked at me silently, even to them this area of conversation was a little private. My brain made the decision to keep talking, "It was with my friend. She's a girl. It was very nice. I'm going to miss it."

Dr. Nagra must have sensed how sad I was about it and made an attempt to cheer me up, "I'm sure you wont miss it. The female orgasm is quite the powerful thing, or so I have heard," Dr. Nagra said, almost nonchalantly. In the corner was the cursed machine, able to turn me into a girl with a single shock. The doctors both fussed over it, reading off numbers and twisting dials. I was unsure if I hated it or not, sure it was responsible for slowly taking my manhood away but it seemed a lot better than the alternative of painfully changing all at once.

At Dr. Chisholm's request I took off my school uniform and sat it on the chair beside me. I eyed my shirt and shorts, wondering if they would fit me at all after this shock. I asked Dr. Chisholm and he thought that they should be fine. The linoleum felt cold on my toes so I concentrated on that and not the metal bar that Dr. Nagra was handing me. "So, are you ready, Michael?" Of course I wasn't. I had only upgraded from boyhood to manhood a few years ago and I didn't want to trade it in for womanhood.
But I knew I didn't have a choice.

I grabbed the bar with both hands and said in the spirit of Clint Eastwood, "Zap me up, doc!"

The electricity flew down through the machine, down the wires, into the metal bar and awoke millions of tiny robots living inside me. I felt my skin crawl again as my body edged ever closer to total femininity. The robots worked tirelessly to make me more womanly and I watched in morbid horror. While I hated the outcome I had to admire the Nanobots' fervour. There was a pulling feeling in my face and my ears hurt a little. My arms began to slim down and the hair covering them thinned out. Everything felt like it was changing and I didn't know where to look.

I looked down, in time to see my breasts being born. Like any newborns, my breasts were small, cute and forcing their way out of a place they didn't belong. Already I had tits bigger than Dot, but I wasn't a bikini model by any stretch of the imagination. My already feminised nipples now looked more at home atop my smallish mounds. It only took a few seconds all up. Growing breasts was a pretty girly thing to do and now I would have to do something extremely manly, like killing a bear or building a barn.

The tingle slowly ebbed and I stood up to allow the medicos to examine what was now me. "OK Michael, you are now about 30% female," announced Dr. Nagra after consulting the computer.

"Great," I heaved a sigh. Did my voice sound different? Maybe a tiny bit. The men once again collected data by measuring me and weighing me and testing everything about me. I'd lost some centimetres here and gained some centimetres there. They concluded all was fine and that I was well on my way to becoming a teenage girl. I would have liked to argue their that 'all wasn't not fine' but didn't have the strength to have Dr. Chisholm call in Annette to explain that being a woman wasn't a bad thing.

My briefs came down so that my genitals could be surveyed. It was an embarrassing thing to do, only made slightly less embarrassing by the fact Dr, Chisholm was almost too embarrassed to ask me at all. The tingling feeling was present there for quite a while but I ignored it, not wanting to upset myself. But there was no choice now. I had predicted it would be bad, but it was far worse. For what was once a mighty oak tree (OK, maybe not that big) was nothing much more than an acorn. Hidden amongst my pubic hair was a penis that belonged on a 4-year-old boy. I gasped, holding 'it' between two fingers. The testicles were also retreating in fear, my scrotum spread out and barely hanging down. As far as defined genders go, I was a mess down there.

"What the fuck!? Where my penis?" was as clean as I could make it in spite of how angry/confused I was, "I thought there was 70% to go!". Dr. Chisholm approached me slowly and carefully, as if he was a lion tamer and I was his favourite lion in an uncharacteristically bad mood.

"Now Michael," he gently said, "The reason things down there have changed the most is because they have the most to change. Everything else is just getting smaller or bigger or longer or softer. All the amazing things are all going on down there. You're creating a womb and eggs, all sorts of things, while at the same having to lose your entire male reproductive system. It's such a big task that it will be more noticeable than the other changes."

My fragile, pathetic, little penis hung its head in shame as if it knew it had betrayed me. If my penis was to die before me I would have rather it went out with a bang as opposed to a whimper. It should have died doing something heroic or exciting, not shrivelling up to make room for some pussy lips. Looking down at it then was like watching a loved one in an Aged Care Facility, drained of all spirit and just waiting to die.

My penis didn't stir at all with all the prodding and measuring. It was sad watching it, so I looked at the mirror instead. My face was… cuter, for a lack of a better word. The nose I owned was shrinking and changing shape, my eyes were larger and changing colour, my lips seemed a little bigger and my ears smaller. While I still looked like me, I certainly looked different.

This time around they connected wires to my head to measure brain waves. "Is my brain changing?" I nervously asked. I hadn't thought about that. Could I come out of this with a whole new personality? Would I still me be?

"Yes," confirmed Dr. Chisholm, "But the changes wont be drastic. There has been some personality changes- clean people have become messy, angry people calm down, senses of humour get tweaked. Nothing too major. You wont lose your memory or forget how to talk." He bent down to look me in the eye, "You'll still be you, Michael. Just a ever-so slightly different you." The way Dr. Chisholm said it calmed me down a little.

"It's just small thing," added Dr. Nagra as he tidied up the place, "You know, you might be slightly more competitive or happy but most people wont notice. You might be more outgoing. Who knows?"

"Can't you tell yet?"

"No, nothings set in stone," Dr. Nagra said, "It's hard to tell if the personality changes are part of the brain changing or your reaction to the changes. Only one thing is certain; your sexuality will change." Dr. Chisholm spun around so fast to Dr. Nagra I knew he wasn't supposed to say that. I couldn't see but I was sure Dr. Chisholm was giving Dr. Nagra a death stare to end all death stares. I allowed myself into my brain and I quickly rummaged around my thoughts. As far as my thoughts were concerned Carmen Electra was still filed in the 'Hot' file and George Clooney was still in the 'Not' one. If Dr. Nagra was right I would have re-filed Mr. Clooney in the kinda hot file.

"Is that true, Dr. Chisholm? Am I going to start liking guys?"

Dr. Chisholm turned back around to me,"Well, Dr. Fischer, Annette, was supposed to break it to you gently this evening but since Dr. Nagra slipped- After your transformation you will probably be attracted to the opposite sex. All the case studies show that there is at least a swing towards heterosexuality in your new form. I'm not sure why the virus works like that. But, like a typical girl, you'll be quote unquote attractive to the opposite sex and you'll probably be attracted to them. These nanobots can do some amazing things." Dr. Chisholm must not know there is a difference between 'amazing' and 'disturbing'.

With that slab of bad news, I got ready to leave the examination room. Dr. Chisholm wished me a good day and said that he would see me tomorrow when I would come and stay and the hospital. I mumbled a 'thank you' I didn't mean and left. Annette was waiting for me at the end of the hallway, chatting with Mum again, making decisions about me without me. I caught my Mum's eye and she watched me walk towards her. "You're looking good, sweetheart," she said, unsure if that was the right thing to say. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to say but I felt loved so I didn't snap at her.

"I've got breasts! Can you tell?"

She looked my up and down, studying my body in my school shirt and shorts, "A little bit," she murmured, trying not to upset me, "Overall you look a little more…"

"Girly?" I suggested. She nodded and weakly smiled.

Annette expelled a long, professional breath, "Now Michael, I was wondering if I could talk to you alone for a moment?"

"No, it's OK. I know I'm going to like guys, I'll get over it."

"Huh? What? Oh…OK," she blustered, "So, you're OK with it?"

"Not really, but as I said I'll get over it," I tapped my mum on her shoulder, "Let's go, Mum. Bye Annette! See you tomorrow."

Maybe I shouldn't have blown Annette off like that. After all, she was only doing her job. But come to think of it, I actually liked Dr. Nagra's blunt honesty more than Annette's patronizing lectures. I felt a little bad treating her the way I did, but only a little bad. When I'm lying in the hospital I won't be able to get rid of her and she can talk down to me until her little heart is content. It began to spit down rain as we walked to the car. I broke into to a quick jog to avoid getting too wet, while my Mum didn't even seem to notice it was raining. My reason for running was that I didn't want my stroll to the car to turn into a wet-shirt contest. These school uniforms were notorious see-through when wet, a thing I enjoyed when I was the viewer but hated now I was a potential viewee. I was already very self-conscious of the two small lumps in my shirt. When I ran I was reminded about my new breasts again, as they bounced up and down. Maybe 'bounced' is too strong a word, I wasn't Pamela Anderson running across the sand in Baywatch, giant tits threatening to hit her in the face with each step. Mine was more of a slight tug, but a tug that certainly wasn't there this morning.

Mum had the keys to the car, so I had to stand and wait for her in the rain anyway. As she came walking around the corner, soaked through completely, I noticed that her cold nipples were visible through her top. I wouldn't usually notice something like that about my mum but breasts were on my mind at the moment. I used to love visible nipples, it was like seeing something you weren't supposed to, discovering an oasis. I looked down at my chest and sighed. Like mother, like son.

CHAPTER 5

The Beach Boys sang their little hearts out to cheer me up on the car. But again there choice of song was poor. Brian and the boys sung about how they wish 'they' all could be 'Californian Girls.' I knew they didn't mean themselves or me, but it didn't help things. "Nicole's going to be home for tea tonight," Mum said, breaking the silence with whatever blunt object she could find.

"Does she know about… me?"

"Yeah, she does. I called her this morning. She's excited about getting a younger sister."

"Great, I bet she wants to practice all her stupid hair cuts on me!"

Mum laughed, "You guessed it. She's already planning your Deb hair."

"Mum, you don't think I'm going to take Mrs. Higgins up on her offer, do you?"

"Well…"

"There's no way I'm doing the Deb, not as a girl. Don't think I'm going to do anything girly…" I snapped, my voice pitifully cracking as I tired to chide my mother.

"It's just we still have the dress and it's never been worn. Me and Nicky worked so hard on that dress…"

The sad story goes that my sister planned for her Deb since she was 9. No joke, she was cutting pictures out of magazines when she was 12. She picked her date, a burly fellow called Darren, in Year 7 and held onto him. As a special project Mum and Nicole (both very handy with a needle and thread) actually made the whole dress from scratch. They would often fill the TV room with pins, white satin and an assortment of sewing machines. The room was also filled with giggles, jokes and that warm family feeling that is tricky to fabricate. It was a project that brought them both together. But Nicole had a horrible asthma attack the day of the Deb and had to be taken to hospital. She was in there for like a week. So, she missed her Deb. She might have done it the year after but she quit school to do the hairdressing. It seemed to be the biggest tragedy in our family, even bigger than one of my Aunties dying. Mum put the dress away and never had a chance to use it.

Until now…

"Mum, I only wanted to do the Deb with Holly. Now that we can't do it together, I don't want to do it!" I took an angry breath, "Why would you think I would want to wear your stupid dress anyway?"

"It's not a stupid dr…"

"All dresses are stupid, Mum! I'm not wearing any of them!" I huffed like the petulant teenager I was and stared out the car window, awaiting my apology.

The apology didn't really come, "Sweetheart, I would really like it if you thought about doing the Deb. It would mean a lot to me. I was so disappointed when Nicky couldn't do it. I would hate for both my children not to do it. I couldn't do it because I was pregnant with Nicky. I really regret it. I really want one of the Taylor mob to do it." Never underestimate my Mum to be selfish in the face of other people's tragedies. I didn't need to say anything, so I didn't.

Our phone had such a loud ring, it often ruined a perfectly good weekend-sleep in only to tell Nicole about a party that night, or to tell Mum she now had to fill in at the pub because someone was sick. My friends all had the decency to wait until the afternoon to call. The loudness of the phone could be heard from the car so I rushed inside to try and find it. One of the few cons that the invention of the cordless phone poses is the continual game of Hide-and-Seek you have to play when it rings. Who knows who had it last and where they hid it? I ran from room to room trying to locate the playful appliance and its loud call.

I found the phone in Mum's room and took a leap to catch it. It must have seen me dive for it and tormented me by ceasing to ring. I groaned that my efforts were in vain. "If it's important," I recited, "they'll call back." Mum had often said the same inane thing while we let the phone ring out while we ate dinner 'as a family'. And it seemed to be true as seconds later it rang again.

"Hello?" I answered, puffed from the chase.

"Could I speak with Michael Taylor, please?" asked the voice at the other end.

"Speaking."

"Michael, I'm Nathan Smalley and I work for the Herald Sun," the Herald Sun is the biggest newspaper in the country, "I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?"

"How did you find out about me?" I stood and wandered into the hall, where the phone usually lives.

"I cannot reveal my sources."

"Am I going to be on the front page?"

"You're going to be on the front of every newspaper in the country!"

"Yay!" I cheered sarcastically.

"So, may I ask you a few questions?"

"Well, according the answering machine I have 86 messages to respond to…"

"Several of them are from me," Nathan said.

"Excellent. I will call you back later I promise," and without saying another word I hung up and pulled the cord out of the wall to stop the torrent of call from flooding in.

"Who was that, Mikey?" asked my Mum ducking her head in.

"Oh, just every news crew in Australia," I sighed, "They all want to talk to the Amazing Shrinking Man!"

"Hmmm… Annette said they might know by now. She was going to talk to you about it today but you blew her off." For a second I felt bad about blowing off Annette's long winded speech, but only for a second. "Annette has organized a publicist…"

"A publicist?" I interrupted.

"Think of it more as someone to control the press. He's coming here after tea. He'll sort it out for you."

"Great," I moaned. More people to talk to. Can't I just change sex anonymously?

"Holy shit!" hollered a voice from the doorway, "It's really true! You're turning into a girl!" Thankfully that wasn't the publicist talking. The high and shrill voice belonged to my sister Nicole, seeing me for the first time. I loved my older sister but she took after my mum a fair bit. Perhaps she was even more like my mum than my Mum was. She was loud, ditsy and a little slutty. "You look heaps different, Michael," she said as she approached me, "Your nose and eyes. You're shorter and… cuter. Flamin' hell! You're going to be sexier than me!"

Nicole was not a bad looking girl. Like all hairdressers she had done some 'interesting' things to her own hair. I was now mostly platinum blonde but there were stripes of dark black amongst the blonde, making her look an ideal mate for Pepe LePew. She had gorgeous, big, brown eyes that she never realized were her best asset and hid them behind humungous sunglasses. She was short and a little podgy, something she hid by putting her enormous cleavage on display. Everything she wore, showed of her large breasts and no event was too classy not to have Nicole's pair greeting everyone. Breasts not only being her favourite fashion accessories, they were also one of her favourite topics of conversations. She talked about hers, her friends', how big they were, how small they were, implants, reductions, other women who need to wear bras. I'm not sure what the fascination was but it didn't seem to border on obsession once in awhile.

It didn't surprise me when the topic of this conversation turned to my budding pair of breasts. What did surprise me was the grabbing. Nicole reached and kneaded my hours-old new breasts. "Wow, Mum! Have you felt Michael's chest? He's growing a pair already! How far along is he?" Nicole asked Mum.

"The Doctor's think he's about 30% along," said Mum, eyeing my breasts that my shirt had done a job of hiding before Nicole started searching for them.

"Wow," Nicole gasped, "You might end up pretty big! Hey, you could even fit into my Deb dress!" That was it! Nicole was being a little too upfront about it all. Was it too much to ask for her to use a little bit of tact? My feet sent me hurtling towards my room, tears covering my eyes. I slammed the door while Mum began to yell at Nicole about 'being gentle' and this being a 'difficult situation'.

My room was decorated by a different me. What seemed like good choices before only seemed to mock me. Scattered around the room were pictures of hot 'babes' in various states of undress. They weren't littered everywhere like a pervert would display them, they were just intermittently placed around the room next to photos of friends and a large 1977 Star Wars poster. It was basically a teenage boys room. But instead of piquing my teenage sexual interests, the looming posters of Jessica Alba in Sin City, Carmen Electra and Krystal from Zoo magazine teased me. Thanks to P.E., I was the 'before' and they were the 'after'. I stopped crying for a second and screamed in frustration. There was nothing I could do to stop me becoming one of them. The way they were alluringly posed was luring me in, inviting me to join them. I could have torn them down, ripping their seductive smiles and their 'smoking' bodies, but I didn't. Instead, I collapsed on my bed and cried.

I felt two hands roughly stroke my back. Even though they were the same size as Mum's, there was no doubt this was Nicole's attempt to cheer me up. She did the best thing she could have done, she said nothing. At least for a few minutes, I could lay still and concentrate on ignoring her horrible back rub and not have to listen to her as well. I stopped crying but still kept my head in my pillow, I didn't want her remarking on how 'cute' my nose was getting.

Nicole was strangely silent. I knew she desperately wanted to fill the silence with noise but with Mum's warning to treat me with kid gloves she was unsure of what to say. She did say "Shhh" a few times, as if to calm a baby and sighed sympathetically but other than that she was totally quiet. I almost felt bad that I had stopped her from doing what she loved to do best, talk. The old bed squeaked in pain as I sat up and hugged her. The combinations of being pressed against her massive breasts and the wanton sexuality pouring down on me from the posters I should have been a lot more upset than I was but the truth was that I felt safe in Nicole's embrace. But then she opened her mouth…

"You're going to make a great girl," was the sentence she settled on. Who knows how unspeakably awful the other unsaid first sentences she rejected were?

"I'm not going to be a great girl," I huffed, "I'm just going to be a girl. I'm not changing clothes or hobbies or friends. Why do people think I'm going to be a whole different person?"

"Because you're going to be a whole different gender, Michael!"

"Haven't you heard of a tomboy? I'm going to be one of those. I'm just going to be me with a vagina!" Nicole waited before she said something again, cycling through her possible choices.

This time she made a better choice, "If you want, I'll treat you the same."

"That would be great."

She sighed, "It's a shame. We could have had so much fun re-decorating your room, going clothes shopping…"

"Could have but wont." It wasn't much, but we were brother and sister and that little exchange meant we were friends again.

Nicole walked to the kitchen, sullenly I walked behind her. Nicole's arse femininely wiggled in a way to attract men that was probably subconscious. I made a conscious effort to make sure I never walked like that. Store-bought lasagne and oven-ready chips were waiting on plates alongside some vegetables in the kitchen. I sat and ate the meal while Mum and Nicole talked about everything but my transformation. It was nice not being the topic of conversation for once and I started joining in where I could. For 5 whole minutes I didn't think about my gender issues once.

That changed when he knocked on the door. We were only halfway through dinner when he arrived. Mid-twenties, impeccably dressed, handsome. He introduced himself as Tyler and shook everyone's hands warmly. "You're the publicist?" I asked. He smiled a big, genuine smile,

"No, Michael. Everybody in Australia will be talking about you tomorrow, so you don't need a publicist. You need someone in Public Relations and that's where I come in. I am going to be dealing with the press for you, doing as you please so that we can make this a smooth transition for you." There was that term again, 'smooth transition', I hated it.

"Oh good," said Mum, "There's like 80 phone messages on our phone, they're all probably from newspapers and the telly."

He smiled a big, genuine smile again, "All taken care of. I've already informed the press that they'll be dealing through me," he withdrew his phone like a cowboy from the American old West, the phone rumbled uncontrollably with the force of one thousand phone calls, "See? They know if they want to get anywhere they have to do it through me. You shouldn't be receiving many calls anymore."

Tyler kneeled down and looked me in the eyes, "Now Michael. The next step in this crazy process is yours. You name is going to be on everyone's lips tomorrow and you can dictate what people are going to say about you. You can be as reclusive or as public as you want. If you want we can sell your story to the highest bidder or tell absolutely everyone your plight."

"Isn't it illegal to print his name? He's only 17?"

"Only if he's committed a crime do they have to withhold his name. Going through a Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration isn't a crime, so Michael Taylor is going to on everyone lips."

"Well…." I mused, "I would like to make some money off of all this…."

A smile crept around Tyler's mouth, which he professionally hid, "I have a whole host of offers, Michael. You can pick and choose what you want. Channel 9 are offering $300,000 for exclusive TV rights to your story, The Herald Sun are offering the same for newspaper rights and I reckon we can get $200,000 with New Idea for the glossy mag rights." Tyler was talking a lot about a lot of money, I didn't fathom my story was worth that much money.

"Would they really pay that much?" Nicole said, eyes wide.

"They sure would. I even have a $500,000 offer from Zoo Magazine for Michael to do a photo shoot in a bikini once he finished changing, but I figured you wouldn't be up for that?"

"Good intuition," I said, cringing at the idea of me festooned in a tiny bikini, calling out to all men like a siren of the newsstand. Let me tell you there was no chance of that happening, even for a million dollars.

"Look Michael, a lot of people make money off of unfortunate events. Wars make some people rich. Now the unfortunate can be the one making the money." Tyler was very good at his job, he made me feel safe and strong at the same time. Not only that he seemed to be a very nice guy, the type of guy I would have like to grow up into.

My mind wandered once again to Kate Draffen, as the only other Australian who had been in my position I thought about her a lot. She had decided not to do any press at all. The truth be known I hadn't ever heard Draffen speak. Not once, and I'd only seen handful pictures of Draffen; a few, smiling pre-P.E. and a few paparazzi pics of Draffen, sunglasses on shielding his new face from the camera. Those pictures were all that I had seen of Draffen, and of course the infamous one mid-transformation that was famous around the world.

"Well, I would really like to go to university, and I'm not sure I'll be able to in this country, if I become as recognizable as Kate Draffen so I'll need a bit of money to go to a good uni overseas. Plus, I want to tell people what I'm going through, maybe they'll be a little more considerate. So… I'd like to get some money outta this predicament I'm in, please."

"I can do that, Michael. I don't you very well but I think I was a lot like you when I was younger. I think I know what you want, you're a smart kid and I want the public to see that. Is that cool?"

"Just don't over saturate me," I said, even though I wasn't exactly sure what that mean, I had heard media analysts use the term and I thought it might apply here.

"I believe me, Michael, I'll take care of you."

Nicole had probably said less during the last 10 minutes than ever in her life and was wanted to add something to the conversation, needed or not, "Hey, any chance of us making money out of this?" she gestured to my mum and herself.

"Sure, Nicole, if you're willing to sell out your own brother," Tyler chuckled, "Look, I'd advise you to keep together as a family. I'm sure Michael will be willing to share some of the money around."

"Don't count on it," I joked.

"But seriously," Tyler continued, "I've seen too many families and friends split up over stupid things they've said to the press. I'm sure whatever deal we end up going with will end up with an interview with all of you."

"Oh I don't know if I could do that," stammered Mum, shy for first time in her entire life.

"You could talk underwater with marbles in you mouth, Mum!" Nicole said. I wondered if Nicole knew that she also could achieve the same seemingly impossible feat.

Tyler took out a notepad and glanced down at some scrawlings, "Also Michael, it's important the media knows what to call you. I'll need to know what you are choosing for your new name." Nicole and my Mum stared at me.

"I haven't really decided that yet, can I give it to you tomorrow?"

"No rush, mate. But you probably want to avoid confusion, unlike the Draffen case. It took John too long to decide on his new name and now most people still call him Kate. I think it will help everything if on Day 1 of your new life we have a new name to go with it, OK?" I nodded in agreement, although I really didn't want a new name.

"Look, you seem to know what you're doing, Tyler. I'm going into hospital and by Saturday I will probably be coming out a girl. So, if you want to squeeze a pre-female interview with me in, there isn't much time. But I'll leave you with all the details. Basically all you can do to stop me being perused by paparazzi would be great. That's my main worry. My aim for a smooth transition," Great, now even I was saying it! "is to have life change as little as possible. And swarms of photographers following me around everywhere is going to hamper my plan a little."

"Thank you for trusting me, Michael. I'm not some money grubbing weasel and I don't work that way. I couldn't imagine what you are going through and I think you're a very brave guy, so I'm going to make sure I keep the press at bay. However a lot of them don't play by the rules: so you will have paparazzi following you around and there will be people going through your trash and talking to anyone who ever knew you. I cannot help that. So I ask you to understand that although I will try my absolute best, the media will find ways to annoy you."

I liked Tyler. He had the smooth swagger that I would have liked to adopt if I ever got to be a young man. He was good looking and a charmer. But I was excited to realize I wasn't attracted to him, not in the slightest. Maybe the Doctors and their theories about my sexuality were wrong. I was now almost a third female and there was no way I was a third attracted to him. Not even as he shook my hand and smiled warmly as he said goodbye.

Dinner rested uncomfortably in my stomach by I didn't blame my mother's work on that. Dr. Chisholm had warned me there might be a bit is nausea for the next couple days. While I didn't vomit I sat on the couch, ignoring the blaring from the TV as I rubbed my belly soothingly, feeling extremely sorry for myself. Not only was I turning female, it didn't feel good either.

A lot of people have a lot of different markers of when a thing becomes real- like many people of my generation I believe a thing is real when I see it on the TV news. Wars are real, natural disasters are real and according to the national news bulletin me becoming a girl was real. A man who is paid to be serious all time announced that a teenage boy in the Marrang area in the state of Victoria has been infected with Nanobots programmed with Spontaneous Sex Reconfiguration more commonly know as P.E. If anyone in town didn't know, they sure did now. The serious Newsreader continued that the teen attends the local high school and is undergoing a process that slows the transformation down. I was told by the TV that I should been a girl by Friday. It was the top story on the minute long bulletin. I was the top story on the news. That's a very weird feeling. "Hey, at least they didn't mention your name," grinned my Mum.

"Yeah, that's an upside."

Glen and Dot came around to see me after they had finished dinner. I was glad to have friends that were willing to give up doing important homework to come visit me. "Hey you're a star!" announced Glen, "Seven, Nine, Ten- you're the lead story on every channel?"

"What about SBS or ABC?"

"Didn't check. I don't watch them."

"Fair enough."

"You're looking a little more girly. How far along are you?" asked Dot as she studied my face.

"About 70% to go, so I'm barely there." I said as my friends studied my face harder.

"How's downstairs doing, man?" asked Glen as we went to my bedroom to be away from my family.

"It's a mess, I'm like a 4 year old boy."

"Gross," Dot chimed in. I had to agree with her, it was gross. My assembled think tank filed into my room and took a seat. Glen got comfy in my slightly dilapidated beanbag and Dot chose to sit on my computer desk, while putting her feet on the desk chair, I took the bed. It was weird to think that less than 24 hours ago I had sex with Dot in this very room, on the very bed I was sitting on. I hadn't told Glen though, as he could be a little weird about these types of things, he likes to be included. Once Dot and I went to the movies while he was away and he cracked the shits with us all week because he wanted to see that movie. I didn't think it was a good idea to tell Glen about Dot's and my night together.

"You cleaned those sheets yet, lover?" Dot teased me. It appeared that Dot didn't quite have the same feelings as me regarding keeping this a secret from Glen. I shot her a stare, the equivalent of 'Shut up!' but she just stared right back at me, "Don't worry I told him already!"

"You what?" I couldn't believe Dot had shared our special little moment with someone else. But then again I had enjoyed telling my two doctor friends.

"You dirty cad," joked Glen, "Just keep me in mind when you need your next 'first time,' OK?" I laughed a strange and unfamiliar laugh.

"Your voice has changed, you can really tell when you laugh," Dot said further chronicling every one of my changes.

"Yeah, I'm not deaf. Anyway, the reason you're are is to help me choose a new name, so let's stop mucking around and do it." I was allowed to be a little snappy as I was turning into the opposite gender.

The backpack that Glenn carried in with him was opened and he produced a book, "I came prepared!" he smiled as waved his hand under the book like he was trying to sell it on TV. It was called The Baby Name Bible: The Ultimate Guide By Baby-Naming Experts. It had pictures of tiny babies crawling all over the cover. Some would describe it as terrible, I would have selected the word terrifying. "

Glen, a few questions," Dot said, leaning over, "One, how do you get to be a Baby Naming Expert? And two, you do know that Michael isn't turning into a baby?"

"One, you name a lot of babies really, really well, like you name a boy Alfred and he grows up to be a butler or a baby girl Candi and she grows up to be a stripper. THAT'S how you become an expert of baby-naming. And number two, yes I know Michael isn't turning into a baby, but my parents didn't have a copy of Naming Teenage Girls: You haven't gotten around to it yet?!?"

Dot leaned back, cleanly defeated by Glen's quick wit, "Touché!"

Picking a name for yourself is a weird thing to do. Most people wont have to do it, aside from making up silly pseudonyms for the bowling alley scoreboard. And of those that do change their names it's usually because they want to. I didn't want to, Michael is a perfectly good name but the problem was it wouldn't suit me for very long. Kate Draffen eventually changed her name to John. John to me seems uninspired, a name quickly chosen in a flurry of confusion. I wasn't like Draffen, I had time to prepare.

"OK dudes, we're not leaving this room until we find me a new moniker, K? I don't want something silly because I'm going to have to wear it for a long time. Let's not get bogged down in middle names either, that's busy work. OK, let's get searching and remember, be serious!"

Glen dived into a book with a vigour I have never seen him show before. "So, I know you don't want to be a Michelle but are you sticking to names beginning with 'M' like do you wanna be a Melinda or a Miranda?" asked Dot as she scribbled in her notebook.

"I don't know," I sighed, "I don't know what I want." And that was true. I sat through a lot of ideas.

"You might be a Dawn?" suggested Glen. I shook my head. "Willow?"

"No."

"Cordelia?"

"Huh?"

"Buffy?"

"No, Glen, I'm not naming myself after a character on Buffy."

"Damn it!"

It took awhile. It seems like any name I slightly liked Dot knew some girl who was a whore/bimbo/idiot who shared the same name but truth be told I didn't like many names. I had a lot of rules:

-I didn't want a unisex name. Alex, Jackie and Tracy all gone!
-I didn't want a girly name. Rose, Mary, Betty discarded.
-No Stripper names. Charity, Sapphire and Sexalicious deemed not appropriate.
-No 'trendy' names. I wasn't going to be called Madison, Dakokta or Tilly.

Time was leaking out the room. I didn't want this choice, no-one else has to pick their own name, and those people who choose to do it usually have a name all ready to go. I had narrowed it down to about 7 that I didn't hate. We were now at the stage of crossing them out, trying to narrow them down to one. "Can we cross out Melanie? If we call you that, then people are going to Mel and that's kinda a guy's name," mumbled Glen staring at the list, just wishing that he didn't come around.

"No, I like Melanie, I think it'll suit you," whined Dot. I'm sure she was as desperate as Glen was to have this sorted out, so I'm not entirely sure why she was fighting him.

"OK, it stays," groaned Glen in defeat.

"Come on, Michael. Let's just choose one!" You could hear the frustration in his voice, it sounded like it was tearing him apart.

"Read them out again," I meekly instructed.

Glen climbed out of the cracked vinyl beanbag and read out the shortlist of names, "OK we've got Tamara, Megan, Lucy, Melanie, Jennifer and Penny. One of these will be your new name, Michael. Which one will it be?" I thought about prospective labels. Would Penny be a good girl? Would Megan love to wear short shorts? Will Lucy be a good kisser? How big will Tamara's tits be? Every name on that list, in fact every name I heard that night brought up it's own image. Kathryn going shopping for clothes. Mary going for a girls' night out. Heidi ordering a salad. Samantha sucking some guy's cock. I know it was silly thinking that whatever name I choose would shape my personality but I'm sure that's true in some minuscule way.

I said what I didn't want to but it came out anyway, "I don't know."

Glen sighed and Dot came to sit next to me. "I know this is a hard choice for you to make, but it is your choice to make. We can't do it. If we could I'm pretty sure Glen would have christened you Glenda and moved on 2 hours ago."

"You know me too well, Dot."

"I know I'm annoying you guys, but choosing a girl's name will make me one step closer to being a girl. I know very well that I cannot stop this process, I have no choice in the matter and there are millions of tiny robots in my system just waiting to finish the job. I guess not choosing a name is a name is my tiny rebellion. I know it's fucking stupid, I'm sorry. Fuck it, I'll be Lucy!"

"Are you sure?" said Glen, now ditching the frustrated and sounding concerned. I guess he was acting concerned because I was now crying. He sat beside me and wrapped an arm around me.

There was a knock at my door followed by my Mum coming in with a few cans of Pepsi. We always had a fridge stocked full of soft drink because Mum would always score them for mega cheap from the pub. "Oh what's wrong?" Mum said in a very motherly way.

I heaved a sob and responded, "I'm going to be Lucy Taylor!"

With no room either side of me Mum knelt down and hugged me, "That's fine, dear. Good choice on a name. It must have been very hard."

"It was," agreed Dot.

"Lucy Taylor… I like it, Mikey. If you want people can call you Lou for short, that's kinda blokey."

"They can't," said Glen, "That's against the rules."

"OK, OK, OK… I didn't know there was rules," Mum laughed a little, and her voice took her back many years ago. "You know what I was going to call you if you were born a girl?" she daydreamed. No, I didn't. It was weird I'd never asked her that, not before P.E and not even now after searching for a name in vain for hours. She hugged me close in her warm embrace and said, "Probably Gemma."

And there it was. Gemma.

I liked Gemma. It was a girl's name with out being a girly name, it wasn't as simple as Jane and yet I wasn't calling myself something Alegra. I didn't know any Gemmas personally but I knew of a few of Gemmas. It was a perfect fit. "Can I use Gemma, Mum?" I asked her.

"Of course you can. Given up on Lucy already?"

"It wasn't for me."

Tired goodnights echoed plumply off my front porch and into the night as my two friends went home. Dot said she liked Gemma a whole lot and Glen agreed, although the sincerity of the agreement is questionable. As they left Dot slipped me a scarp of paper, I slipped it into my pocket and forgot about it. It wasn't until I took down my pants in the toilet did I remember about it. Since the nanobots had destroyed my penis I was reduced to sitting down, making the reading of the note more comfortable. "Michael," the note read, "You've gone to get some lollies for us right now and I know you said not to worry about a middle name for you but we found one. Please use it or we will gut you with a knife. It is Mae. Thank you, Dot and Glen."

So, despite my best efforts, and through no choices of my own, upon arrival to girlhood I had a full name: Gemma Mae Taylor. Not horrible. I would tell my friends about it in the morning.

CHAPTER 6

My sleep was again non-eventful, definitely not a sign of how my day would be. It started out OK. I showered and ate breakfast. Some things disturbed me as I showered. My body was weird. I had breasts, this I knew but now I had some personal time with them. They were tiny, looking like they belonged on an 11 year old girl, but it was a sign of things to come. My whole body shape seemed a little wrong. I looked in the mirror at myself. I wasn't very female at all, but I was losing what was male about me.

Breakfast wasn't much of a meal. Even though I was under strict instructions by Dr, Chisholm to eat three big meals a day I didn't feel I could eat much more than a banana. "Not hungry?" asked Nicole as she watched me slowly eat the banana.

"Not really," I said, half asleep, a mouth full of fruit.

"So, you're staying at the hospital tonight?"

"Yep."

"An when do you get out?"

"When it's all done."

"That'll be exciting," said Nicole filling the air with sound, not really thinking about what she said. Both Mum and Nicole were deathly afraid of silence and would do anything to prevent it. I hoped it wasn't a female quality, as I quite enjoyed the odd bit of quiet and did not want fear it. "Do you need a ride to school today? I have Ben's Holden." Ben was my sister's boyfriend.

"No, I should be OK," I said as I headed for the door. I yanked my bag off of the floor I the hall, opened the door and went outside.

CLICK!

Murmur, murmur, murmur. CLICK! Clickity, clickity, clickity, click! Michael! MICHAEL! Mr. Taylor! Click! Click! Click! MR. TAYLOR! …you scared? …school think? CLICK! Have you been… CLICK! CLICK! …yet? CLICK! …being a girl? Michael! …family and… CLICK! ….is that correct? LOOK THIS WAY, MICHAEL! Clickity, click! …suffering P.E? SNAP! Kate Draffen… Mr. Taylor? Click! Click!

SLAM!

I took a few deep breaths. That was insane. There was a phalanx of cameras, recorders and people outside my front door where usually there was my letterbox, some snails and maybe a neighbour's cat. Not only was there a sea of people they all wanted something from me, something that I was scared to give. I closed my eyes and tried to reassure myself but frankly I was freaked out.

Nicole stared at me from the kitchen table, her mouth agape. For once in her life she was speechless. But not for too long, "Wow! What was that?"

"A lot of people with a lot of cameras!" She stood up and peeked at the crowd behind our fence.

"Shit! There's fucking thousands of them! You sure you don't need a ride to school now?" I remembered that Mrs. Higgins had warned me not to bring the press to school with me. This amount of people following me to school would be noticeable, like Mary in 'Mary had a little lamb'. Unlike Mary however I'm pretty sure it would not make the children laugh and play.

"I can't go to school. They don't want the press there," I sighed, a long and defeated sigh, "Can you take me to the hospital?"

I grabbed my overnight bag and called school. Mrs. Higgins was concerned for my welfare and wished me good luck. It was nice to hear her say those things. I also told her my future name and she said she like it, turns out she has a niece called Gemma. I took a look around my room, getting sentimental that this would be the last time I would be in here as a male. I stared at my Jessica Alba poster and wandered how I would feel about it after the change, I hoped I would still enjoy it. I whispered a quick goodbye to my room and joined Nicole by the back door.

Nicole cradled a large blanket we used to use for the occasional beach picnic in her hands. I wasn't sure of her plans, "What's with the blanket?"

"I could throw it over you in the car, so that they can't see you. What do ya think?" she grinned. It was a good plan, I guess, if I wanted to hide from the press. But I wasn't hiding from the press.

"No, Nicole, it's ok. I don't care if they see me." She looked at me with a mix of confusion and awe. She dropped the blanket and it crumpled to the floor as we started to walk to the car.

At least the media were relatively well behaved. There was none of them hiding in our backyard, so the trip to Nicole's boyfriend's car was a quiet one. I simply got in the passengers' side and Nicole, the drivers' side. She turned around and drove out through the carport. CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! The cameras began as soon as the nose of the car edged in view of the mob out front. I panicked and looked straight ahead, neither frowning nor smiling, not acknowledging the cameras or the hubbub at all. Nicole sped off down the street. "This is kinda exciting!" she confessed as she soared around a corner. Silently, I prayed that I would live long enough to see my penis convert into a vagina, a weird prayer I assure you. I did get to the hospital safely, practically flung out the window so that Nicole wasn't late for her job.

Not one of my special crew of doctors was expecting me this early in the day. We had organized I would show up after school as per usual but instead of going home I would stay in the hospital. The swell of humans waiting at my doorstep kind of changed that. "Michael!" smiled Dr. Chisholm as I was escorted into his makeshift office, "You're eager this morning!" It felt like forever since yesterday and it was good to see him. He held out his hand and shook my warmly.

"Yep, kinda had to miss school today. A little too many photographers and stuff."

"Geez! I can only imagine. So would you like to get your daily dose out of that way?" That was an interesting question. Yesterday, I sat at school dreading the end of the day when I was become a little more female. The doc was offering the chance to get it out of the way before Morning Tea. Considering I had nothing else to do, I agreed.

It wasn't long before I was stripped, probed and told to hold a long metal bar with wires attached. As you can imagine, that was not my ideal Wednesday morning. Today the room was a little more crowded, along Dr. Chisholm and Dr. Nagra was student doctor, Dr. Jensen. He was the nervous type, he spent the entire time avoiding looking me in the eyes. "So Michael, ready for a bitch-zap!" Dr. Nagra joked. Coming out of anyone else I would have been angry, but Dr. Nagra had the uncanny ability to crack me up. Maybe it was because a 40-year-old Indian man had just said 'bitch-zap'. I was about to be edged a little further into womanhood and I couldn't stop laughing.

The countdown reached zero and Dr. Nagra threw the switch, or turned the dial, or pressed the button. I wasn't sure how the thing worked, all I knew was the familiar feeling on my skin crawling had begun again. The tiny army resumed their job, destroying my manhood and constructing my new femininity. I felt my bones creak and my face stung a fair amount. This one seemed to hurt more than the previous ones and I grunted in pain to reflect that. It seemed to go for longer too, where the others were over in 20 seconds or so, this felt like a minute. Maybe since it was more painful it felt longer. My fists clenched, my teeth began to grind and my eyes were tightly shut. Finally the crawling feeling stopped and could relax.

"How do you feel, Michael?" asked Dr. Chisholm.

"That…one…hurt!" I said one word per exhale. My words felt weird as the seeped into my ears. "Hello? Hello?" I said, listening intently to my voice. I submitted my scientific findings for the doctors, "I sound weird." According to the mirror I looked weird too. There was a word for it: androgynous. I looked neither fully male nor female. From that point on, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be considered male, but I still had a long way to go before I was 'Gemma'.

The doctors came over to me and helped me sit down. I felt painfully stiff and yet my legs felt like jelly.

"Easy does it," said Dr. Nagra as he made sure I didn't fall off the seat. The young Dr. Jensen handed me a glass of water and I sipped it.

"Thanks," I muttered, in my new weird sexless voice. "Welcome to the halfway point," said Dr. Chisholm, he glanced at one of his many computer screens, "You're doing very well. You're very healthy. No complications."

"I feel weird," I muttered.

"That's to be expected, your body is in a very peculiar position as you are not quite male and not quite female. You might feel dizziness and nausea. The Chicago man who had this procedure done to him reported feeling very bland and apathetic, almost in a trance-like state around this period of the transformation. Your body is unsure of what type of hormones it should be producing, if any. If this weird feeling continues we might give you another dose to push you a little closer to being 'normal'."

The measuring tape and other devices were brought out and I let them take statistics. They were all talking to me but it all sounded like they were underwater. I nodded now and again but mainly I resided in my head, unable to hear them. It occurred to me that I was now free from the shackles of gender. Should I feel liberated or terrified? I was unsure. All I felt was nothing and it wasn't a relaxing, peaceful, sunsets-on-the-beach nothing it was a terrifying, dull nothing. While my brain was technically working, my thoughts seemed to be very rudimentary. Nothing was making me sad, angry or happy. Things were just things.

Annette came in and talked at me. I watched her mouth and lost track of what she was saying. In this state I was finding it hard to concentrate but I was getting bits and pieces. She was talking at me about a press release Tyler my publicist had put out, explaining my situation, my new name and that I would make a public statement myself sometime after the transformation. She told my face that I was going to have a hospital room to myself if that's ok with me and my face stared back at her. She helped me to my own little private room and placed me on the bed. I sat up, motionless and started literally at the wall. I just stared.

"Are you OK?" Annette grabbed my arm so that I would pay attention. I nodded. I was fine. "You were staring at the wall when I left. In fact, you look like you haven't moved since I left."

"You left?" I asked, unaware that she had left the room, during the brief amount of time since I began staring at the wall.

"I left you here an hour ago!" Annette exclaimed, "As much as you might hate it, I think you might have to see Dr. Chisholm for another dose. That'll get some hormones rushing through your brain again and give you back a personality."

"That's fine," I murmured as I continued to look at the wall.

"He is sitting the exact same as when I left him, Sam. He probably hasn't moved a muscle in 70 minutes," I heard Annette say.

"What are you looking at, Michael?" Dr. Chisholm, who must have entered my room at some point in time.

The wall, Dr. Chisholm, I'm looking at the wall.

"Michael," said Dr. Chisholm firmly as he grasped my arm and looked me directly in the eyes, cutting off my view of the wall, "What are you looking at?"

I thought I had answered that question.

Maybe I didn't say it out loud.

"The wall, Dr. Chisholm." This time he heard me.

"Why are you looking at the wall, Michael?"

"I'm not sure."

"How do you feel, Michael?"

"Fine."

"I think it would be healthy for you to have another dose of electrical current. Is that OK with you?"

"Fine."

So for the second time that day I was stripped, hooked up to all the monitors, and handed the long metal bar. But this time I wasn't scared, in fact that was what the doctors were worried about. The crawling feeling came over me but I didn't look to see what was happening as I was perfectly content staring at Dr. Nagra's shoes. But without me much caring a lot of things were happening to me. The nanobots I was cursed with continued there little jobs, every one of the millions inside me was doing something to make me more female. They worked on everything from preparing my ovaries to changing the shape of my teeth. My hips widened, my breasts swelled, my vagina developed. None of that was as interesting as the laces on Dr. Nagra's shoes.

Finally the fog of apathy lifted. It was like flicking a switch- one-second I wasn't concerned at all what was going on and then I was suddenly very aware of my predicament. I felt the crawling sensation ebb and I looked down. Things had definitely changed. My body had almost completed its betrayal against me. Without my permission it had grown breasts. I wasn't happy with the tiny ones I had yesterday and let me tell you much bigger did not make me feel better. While they weren't 'porno' big, I would certainly never be mistaken for male again.

Never.

I couldn't walk down the street again and have people think 'There goes a guy'. That simple dream was over because of these disgusting fatty deposits in my chest. I inspected my arms, they too had lost the battle against femininity. I was never the strongest guy in the room but my arms did have a little more bulk and hair then they did now. I looked in the mirror and a girl looked back. That's what the mirror told me. It told me a cute, teenage girl with a grief stricken face was looking into it. "Fuck!" I grumbled, hearing my new voice.

"How much am I done?" I asked. Dr. Nagra approached me carefully as if he was scared of me.

"We had to make sure that you were out of the potentially dangerous middle area. Therefore, we have you a heavier than usual dose. You're not done, but I'd say you're in the 75%-85% complete area. One more blast tomorrow should do it. Good news, according to your readings you're doing really well." I usually liked Dr. Nagra, he was honest and funny and I usually liked what he said. This, I didn't.

I cried.

Now I am not going to blame it of my new girly body or the hormones rushing through it, I am going to blame that fact I had a new girly body. I really didn't want to be a girl, at all. That was why I cried. I didn't seem fair. Why was I picked? Sunday, I went swimming and did my maths homework and now, on Wednesday I was 75%-85% female. It seemed like a perfect reason to be sad. I didn't care that I was crying in front of the doctors, I didn't particularly care that I was naked either. I was going to cry good and hard, until I didn't think I could cry no more.

The doctors, all of whom geniuses in their fields, were somewhat taken aback as what to do to comfort a naked, brand new crying teenage girl. My sobbing was the only audible sound in the room as four doctors thought about how to help the situation. Annette was the first to try, of course she was, as taking care of my mental health was her primary mission. "It's OK, Michael," I'm so glad she didn't call me Gemma, if I heard that I probably would have swung a blind punch, "Have a seat." She gently guided me over to a chair. "There nothing wrong with having a cry," Annette reassured me and she rubbed my back a little.

"That's right," agreed Dr. Chisholm, sounding like a grandfather, "Let it all out!" I took the doctor's advice and cried all the more harder.

"I want my mum!" I heaved through a sob, not caring that I sounded like a 6-year-old girl after falling off some play equipment at school.

"I called her about half an hour ago and she said she was coming to see you. I'm sure she's somewhere in the hospital. I'll go get her," Annette said and quietly left. I felt I still had buckets of tears before I was all cried out. For a moment I felt extremely lonely, I missed my friends. I wondered what they would all be doing at school. They were probably laughing and enjoying life. Dot was probably drawing cartoons of people in her maths class and passing them to Glen who would undoubtedly laugh too loud. And what about Holly? I'm sure she was asking Zack or Aaron or some other guy whether they would like to do the Deb with her. She probably didn't even care about me anymore. Thoughts of that nature of course, did not stem the crying.

"Michael, your mum is here," Annette said softly but I didn't open my eyes or lift my head. I heard the trademark sound of the click of her high heels as my mother came into the room.

"Mikey?" she asked incredulously. I slowly raised my head to look at my mum, she looked amazed that the girl in front of her was once her son. Parents often have dreams for their children- to become Prime Minister or a scientist or a famous actor- and although my mother was slightly kooky I'm pretty sure she never imagined that I would grow up to become a girl.

"Hi Mum," my new voice made a sentence I had said thousands of times sound weird and new.

"You look beautiful," my Mum said, I was unsure if she meant or thought that was the right thing to say.

But as she often does, Mum made a horrible decision, "I DON'T WANT TO BE BEAUTIFUL!" I howled, balling myself up tightly. I brought my knees up to my chest and they repulsively squished against my breasts.

"Sorry Mikey, I didn't mean to upset you. I was surprised, that's all. You look so different!"

"Well, Mrs. Taylor, Michael's transformation is almost done," said Dr. Chisholm, "He's about 80% complete."

"Oh Michael, you're almost there! It will all be over soon," Mum said as she cuddled me, not realizing that it had only begun and I had the rest of my life until it was over.

As with Nicole, Mum did her best comforting when she said nothing at all. She hugged me tightly gently hummed. It was very soothing. "It's OK, it's OK, it's OK, it's OK," Mum whispered, as I ran out of tears.

"I love you, Mum," I whispered, looking at her through my red eyes.

"I love you too, Mikey."

Since now I was all cried out, the doctors were able to on their tests and measurements. I was shorter, although it didn't feel too different to me. My body was very womanly now, I had a slim waist and wideish hips. They took some blood, but I was almost cured of my fear of needles. Mum had stayed in the room for support but spent most the time asking questions I didn't want answered, "So Dr Chisholm, is she going to be able to give birth?" My Mum just called me 'she'.

"Why yes, Michael will be a fully functioning female once the process is complete."

"Do her breasts have much to grow?" Mum asked after Dr. Nagra took the measurement around my chest. I held up my arms and frowned as he ran the tape measure around my expanded chest. From the look of them I certainly hoped they were finished growing.

"Oh I think Michael's almost finished in that area. Maybe a little more, but not a huge amount." Dr. Nagra successfully avoided 'she'.

But there was no denying that I was a 'she'. I was jarringly reminded of my new gender when the doctors got around to poking around my nether regions. They were very delicate around that area and did not spend long there. They kept very quiet and didn't look me in my eyes. Despite their delicacy it was a very invasive feeling. It wasn't like someone touching your cock, it was a lot more personal. It wasn't sexy or amazing or anything, it felt gross. Aside from pissing and the horrible idea of inserting tampons, I was fairly sure me and my new friend, my vagina, were going to leave each other pretty much alone.

After the dehumanising measuring and tests I was allowed to return to my room. Annette had brought me some clothes to wear so that I didn't have to wear those embarrassing hospital gowns. Luckily, the clothes were unisex so I didn't have to endure the horror of girl's clothes. I was now sporting grey tracksuit pants, a plain white T-shirt and a pair of navy blue boxer shorts that were a little snug on my new, wider hips.

Annette and Mum escorted me to my room. Three women walked side by side. Each time my feet took another step on the echoey linoleum floor, the fatty deposits on my chest would wobble a bit. Memories came flooding back of growing school girls and the lusty joy I used to feel when I saw that wobble on girls' chests. It was no longer sexy but repulsive.

"How are you feeling?" Mum asked me.

"I'm a little dizzy, but other than that I'm OK," I mumbled, clearly not OK.

"You're being very brave."

"Thanks Mum." I looked over at my Mum, realizing I was looking at her squarely in the eye for the first time in years. I must have lost a few centimetres in height, which is weird because my legs felt longer. The staff of the hospital had barely seen me, they saw me walk the corridors now and again, but other than that I was in the direct care of the visiting gender reconfiguration specialists. It was interesting to watch their reactions to me- staring at me, trying not to stare at me, smiling at me, looking at me with fear in their eyes. I was a freak, so I didn't judge them.

"Sorry about the room but we didn't want to give you a room with windows in it just in case the press found you," Annette apologised as she slid the creaky door open. She was right to apologise, it was truly a makeshift room. It was nowhere near any of the other patients' rooms and surrounding the bed were random pieces of electrical equipment pushed into the corners, as if this was a last-minute decision. I wondered if this was the same room I had spent time in as a genderless zombie. One look at the wall confirmed it.

"Luckily though," Annette smiled, "You have your own shower and bathroom just through there. And we wheeled up a TV just for you." Annette pointed to the TV at the foot of my bed. It was good to see a TV as I'm sure it would be perfect thing to use to escape. Not escape the hospital, of course, but watching some crappy show might make me forget I now reside in a girl's body.

"I brought some of your DVDs, if you wanna watch them. They're in your overnight bag."

"Thanks Mum," I said, happy to have some creature comforts, "If you don't mind, I feel a little sleepy. Is it OK if I have a little snooze now?"

"Of course," Annette sweetly smiled, "When you wake up, would you like to receive visitors?" I thought about it for a second. I think seeing my friends and family could only make me feel better, so I agreed. Mum came over to me, gave me a big hug and told me that she would see me soon and that she loved me.

They slid the door closed behind them and I was alone. Alone and mostly female. Tears that had been holding on for dear life came suddenly tumbling down my cheeks. I punched a pillow in anger and wrapped another one over my head, I sobbed long and loudly. Hot, wet tears pooled in my green eyes before splashing onto the sheets. I felt I would spend the rest of my life crying over this and I wondered if John Draffen cried for Kate Draffen, his former self.

To cheer myself up I decided I would watch some TV. I clicked the remote and it whirred on, revealing someone cutting some capsicums. While it wasn't the most riveting of programs, I sat and watched it diligently. They were cooking a homemade pizza that looked very appealing. My mouth watered a little, as I hadn't eaten anything all day. I could have easily devoured a pizza then and there if anyone was nice enough to bring me one. The TV chef waved goodbye and the credit began to role. I was excited to see what was on next- a 90's American sitcom? Some bad TV movie? Maybe it would be another cooking show? People love cooking shows.

"Marrang Teenager gets treatment at local hospital for Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration," loudly announced the news. I actually laughed at the misery of it all, a pleasant little chuckle escaped my lips as the newsreader rattled off the rest of the headlines. Here I was watching TV to avoid thinking about my problems and TV decided I was the top story. It was too funny to cry about.

A professional looking woman in his early 30's sat behind the news desk. I had seen her occasionally when I was home from school sick or one of the evening news reporters were on holiday. She had a very pretty but serious face and it she appeared to have a nice looking body, I had always found her sexy. Here was a chance for an experiment, I though. My gaze swept over her, hoping to find her attractive. I stared at her pretty mouth, her exquisite nose and her deep blue eyes. Nothing, I felt nothing. I could still sense that she was beautiful, but that didn't scratch any primordial itch deep inside me. Fuck! Perhaps Dr. Nagra was right, maybe I would become attracted to boys!

In an attempt to shrug off that horrible thought, I directed my concentration back to the TV. "…Vanessa Stokes has more," concluded the 'pretty' newsreader as the TV flashed up a picture of the Welcome sign into Marrang. "This is the city of Marrang. The small tourist city has been rattled by the news that one of their local teenagers have been affected by the Nanobot induced Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration, the second case ever to appear in Australia. The teenager, formerly known as Michael Taylor and soon to be known as Gemma Taylor was found to be carrying the nanobots during a school compulsory medical check on Monday afternoon. By discovering the nanobots early the doctors were able to slowly induce the sexual reconfiguration painlessly over a few days. This method is used to spare the victim pain and create a smooth transition into his new female form." Oh man, I hate that 'smooth transition' term!

"Michael Taylor has been receiving treatment since Monday afternoon and was admitted to St. Peter's Hospital early today. Spokesperson, Tyler Perry had this to say at a press conference only an hour ago-." The news then cut to the man who sat in my kitchen last night and reassured me that everything would be taken care of. He was standing just out front of the entrance of the hospital in front of dozens of microphones that dominated the entire bottom half of the screen. Looking dapper in his suit, his hair gelled and styled within an inch of its life, Tyler read a prepared statement, "Michael is a very brave boy who is in the involuntary process of becoming a very brave girl. He thanks the Australian public for all the support and well wishes he is receiving and asks only for a bit of privacy during this difficult period of time. SGR is a terrible illness to be struck down with and one not made easy by the mountains of press that comes with it. To that end, after the transformation is complete Michael, who will be renamed Gemma, will hold a press conference to answer a few of your questions. Thank you." Throws of unseen journalists burst into a flurry of questions as Tyler stylishly turned around and re-entered the hospital.

Vanessa Stokes' voiceover continued, "People who knew Michael Taylor described him as a quiet yet funny boy who enjoyed the beach, schoolwork and performing onstage." Ouch! It sounded like I was dead! Losing a penis wasn't the end of the world, despite how I thought about it. The news then cut to vox pops of people I knew. My neighbour from down the road said, "Michael's always been a good kid and I'm sure that this wont stop him from succeeding in life." Next up was my friend Kev Madsen, who I had told my problems to on Monday. "Michael a great friend of mine and he'll be an awesome person, male or female!" Kev said and I smiled. A few other people had their say, all of it nice and positive.

It cut to a shot of the reporter standing outside the hospital, probably only 30 meters away from where I currently was. "It seems like the entire town is behind Michael who is excepted to emerge as Gemma on Sunday. Vanessa Stokes reporting." The news continued to the second, less important item of the news, a tragic earthquake in Africa somewhere that killed 8,000 people. I glanced down at the two large, fleshy mounds now hanging from my chest and highly doubted this was more important than a horrific earthquake.

But I guess I was a human-interest story. People all across the country would be sitting at their tables, waiting for a bus or tram, walking home from school or sitting in a taxi and talking about me. "Did you hear the latest about the boy with P.E?" "Do you think it hurts?" "I think the Government is behind it all!" "Do you think she'll be pretty?" "It must be so scary!" It would be like when I walked into the study room at school yesterday times a million. I guess that made me famous. I had achieved what a lot of people spend their whole life trying to achieve: I was famous.

Famous people still have to obey the laws of nature though and I needed to pee. I gingerly climbed down off my bed and crept into my own personal bathroom. It was dark, but I used the light switch to rectify that little problem. Click! Nice. Included were an extra large shower, toilet with handrails and a sink with a mirror. A cute red-eyed teenage girl stared back at me; I'd deal with her later. But first I had to deal with the semi urgent feeling that I needed to pee. The tracksuit and my underwear tumbled down my legs as I set them loose off of my hips. I didn't look down, as I was certain I didn't want to confront my 'pussy'. My cheeks touched down onto the seat and I wondered what to do next. It was funny, usually when you need to relieve yourself you don't need to think about it. But here I was, wondering what I needed to do.

I leaned forward a little and finally it came forth, a familiar feeling coming from an unfamiliar spot. It wasn't too weird a feeling and I was glad girls were still relatively human. The stream became a dribble and then finally stopped. I pondered what to do next. The toilet paper roll called to me and I ripped a few squares off and prepared to 'dry' myself down there. Very, very gingerly I dabbed myself in an effort to clean myself down there. I made sure I didn't focus on the feelings it created and quickly pulled up my underpants and trousers.

My hands felt dirty. They have been touching gross things. I hurried to my sink to clean these new hands. As I rinsed and scrubbed, I had time to look at the feminine stranger in the mirror. I hated to admit it but she was pretty. She wasn't mind-blowingly, drop-dead gorgeous but she could easily be described as 'cute'. A lot about this face was very different to my old face but there were a few things that were the same. My brown hair, which when I was predominately male was foppish or 'gay' was shorter than most girls but it suited this one. My eyebrows were perhaps a little thick, but luckily my doctors didn't double for beauticians so they didn't demand I pluck or shape them. My eyes also hadn't changed colour, they were still green.

Everything else was different. Everything was a lot cuter than it used to be. I wrinkled my forehead and scrunched my nose, even that looked somewhat adorable. My skin was weirdly smooth, free from the stubble and pimples I was plagued with a few days ago. I experimented with a smile, gone was my trademark 'wolfish' smirk, replaced with a delectable little grin. I wasn't planning on smiling a lot though. My eyes were bigger and my nose was narrower and smaller. The girl in the mirror looked like she loved indie music, making her own clothes and teasing chick flicks while she watched them.

I removed the girl in the mirror's T-shirt. I stared at her breasts. They were breasts, pure and simple. They were plump, symmetrical and if it wasn't my chest they were hanging off I would have called them things like 'perky', 'sexy' and 'squeezeable'. But the fact remained that they were mine and I hated them. Even deep in my curiosity, as much as they fascinated me I hated them. "Great," I moaned sarcastically, "I'm cute."

Glumly, I pulled on my T-shirt and walked back to bed. I opened my bag, pulled out my iPod and tried to let the music wrestle me away from reality. With my eyes scrunched shut, I listened to other people's problems put to music. However, broken hearts and unreturned love seemed trivial to me whenever I opened my eyes and surveyed my landscape. More than anything, I wanted to fall asleep. Luckily for me I did. Soon all the annoying and depressing things in the world melted away and I was at peace. I'm uncertain how long I was snoozing for but it felt wonderful. Again, my slumber wasn't rudely interrupted by invasive dream, I felt alone inside my head.

CHAPTER 7

Like everything good in life, my pleasant life-avoiding sleep had to end. I blinked my eyes awake, only to realize I was surrounded. Annette stood to one side of me and Mum to the other. Who knows how long they had been there? I always found people watching me sleep a little unnerving. "Hello," Annette said warmly as I looked at her through my half-awake eyes. She always had her mousy brown hair tightly and messily coiled atop her head like tangled spaghetti. Annette was very skinny and straight up and down, without many curves. Her femininity was somewhat muted, I thought. Therefore I lay in my bed wondering how weird it was that Annette was in charge of teaching me on how to be a girl when I now possessed a much more female body than her and I wasn't even 100% female yet.

"Hi," I murmured.

"Good to see you awake, honey," Mum said. She touched me maternally on the shoulder. Looking at my mother made me feel comforted and I weakly smiled. We talked a bit, mostly about nothing. Annette told me that the press were still outside and trying to interview anyone who comes in or out of the hospital. It was amazing to think there were lots of people just waiting outside for a small glimpse of me. All because tiny little robots chose my body to enter I was one of the most famous people in the country.

Since my health wasn't really a major issue Mum was allowed to sneak my in some 'unhealthy' food which was a treat after a long an confusing day. Since she hadn't wanted to wake me up, my KFC was now a little on the tepid side of things. It could have been frozen and I still would have greedily chowed it down. It was delicious, I really enjoyed anything that made me forget that I was wearing a girl's body and therefore I really focused on my food. Sadly, gravity still existed and when a dollop of potato and gravy fell off the chip and onto my T-shirt I was reminded that I now owned a pair of breasts that would occasionally get food spiled onto them. Well, the ignorance was bliss while it lasted.

I was lamenting the gravy stain of my breast when Annette spoke up, "Now that you're awake and fed, would you like some visitors?"

"Who's out there?"

"Your friends from school." I suddenly panicked. I didn't want my friends seeing me like this. At school they would tease me if I had some spinach caught in my teeth. They would have a field day with me now. Annette must have seen the dread in my eyes, "You don't have to see anyone if you don't want to." Even though she was right, I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't like her enough to admit she was right.

"No, it's fine," I choked, "Let them in." Annette looked confused but complied with my wishes.

"I'll step out too," said Mum, "Give ya some time alone with your friends." Mums always know when you want some privacy.

The friends that were waiting to see me were Glen, the Madsen boys and Dot, of course. I was kinda hoping that Holly would come and see me but I kinda knew that it wouldn't be her anyway. They cracked open the door slightly and Mads was the first to slowly creep in, he stared at me for a second and turned around. I've been this guy's friend for 4 years and he doesn't recognize me. Great! Annoyed, I called out "Mads, it's me!" cringing upon hearing my yell reduced to a girl's shriek. Embarrassed Mads shyly came back into the room.

"Sorry, man," he apologised, "I didn't expect such a large change."

The others slowly filed into the room. They stuck to the walls, terrified to come any closer, clutching cards and gifts like limpets celebrating a birthday. The boys looked at me with unease slowly filling their eye sockets, as if my vagina would leap off me and come attach itself to any one of them. I kinda wished it could do that. They were horrified. This was all rectified when Dot, the last in the line came into the room. "Oh fuck!" she gasped.

"I know!" I exclaimed. It was nice to hear some honesty even if it summated to 'Oh fuck!'.

"You sure this is the right room?" Dot asked the boys, they nodded nervously.

"Ta-da!" I proclaimed. Dot ran up to me and looked me up and down.

"You're all girl?" she asked me upon finishing her inspection.

"Nope, not yet. About 20% to go."

"Wow, you're already so girly!"

"Don't remind me!"

Slowly the boys built up the courage to surround my bed. Their eyes were either staring directly at me or awkwardly looking about the room. They still were a little reticent to say anything though, so Dot continued to talk. "How are you feeling?" Dot asked.

"Not too bad," I admitted.

"Do we call you Gemma yet?" she asked me. I winced,

"Ugh… Not yet." I wasn't quite ready to be called a girl's name, despite my appearance.

"We got you presents!" Kev announced as he thrust his gift upon me.

"I see that," I said as I surveyed the slightly scared present barers. As an ex-teenage boy myself I knew the inherent fear of talking to a remotely pretty girl (Hell, some of the things I said to Holly was bordering on brain dead) and this fear was combined with the knowledge that the 'girl' in question used to be a guy very, very recently. I don't blame them for being scared.

I opened Kev's impeccably wrapped present. Kev was always a perfectionist and he brought the good and bad qualities that come with that. His parents were very successful lawyers in Melbourne but after amassing a small fortune, they gave up lawyering and opened a delightful antique store, right on the beach here. So, being rich gave him and Mads, his brother a slightly elitist quality that was never endearing. They were also good looking and smart as whips, further placing jealous as another reason not to like them. But they weren't horrible guys at all. They had a bundle of good qualities, they were nice, passionate and were great at conversation. Although Kev was slightly lecherous (a trait that never really bothered me until now), Mads was strangely asexual. I never asked him, but I was pretty sure he might be gay.

Kev and Mads's present was, as I expected totally unisex. They were sensitive enough to know I didn't want to be reminded of what I was losing or gaining. It was a pen. I nice one, the type that comes in a display box and one you would be sad if you misplaced. It was classy, stylish and oddly touching. "Thanks, you guys didn't have to get me prezzies."

"I hope you like it," Mads said, innocently.

"Of course I do."

Glen handed me a present too. As he handed it to me he leant down and hugged me as if I was his dying Nanna in this bed, it was distant and sad. I retaliated by hugging him back, hard. I was in dire need of hugs and I wasn't going to let him get away with that. I choked back a tear and sniffed a little. Glen was one of my best friends and I wanted things to stay that way. It was going to be tricky, but since my other best friend was Dot I knew that close girl/boy friendships were possible. But were former-boy-now-girl/boy friends achievable?

It was a diary, that's what Glen gave me. Thankfully, not a flaming pink, little cute padlock, 'Girls rule and boys drool!' kind of deal but a charming leather bound book filled with empty, blank pages begging to be jotted on. "That's kinda what the pen is for," said the softly spoken Glen, "I'm sure you have some pretty interesting thoughts you should write down." It was well thought out present, it was a nice gesture without being sickly sweet, it was intuitive and most importantly it was gender neutral. I'm not sure who helped him with that idea but someone did.

Dot on the other hand had not been given any help. The gift was jewellery, that was her first mistake. Actually her first mistake was that it was in a pink box with pink ribbon on it. The fact she looked a little resigned when she gave it to me, maybe regretting what she thought was at first funny. I was a necklace, without a shark's tooth at the bottom, which was the only manly thing you can hang at the bottom of a necklace. At the bottom of this necklace was an oval locket. Dot skittishly pushed some hair behind her ear and began talking, "Look, I know it's a necklace and that's not a very cool thing to give you but I think it's important."

"Yep, getting me glammed up before I've even finished changing myself is very important!" I dolled out that comment, noticing that my voice was pitched higher than Dot's.

"Just open it!" she said, exacerbated.

I fiddled with the finicky little hinge and the gold locket swung open. Snug inside was a picture of two people cheekily smiling, hugging each other. It was Dot and me. It was Dot and the very male me. I needed an explanation. "I know you're not Gemma now but you are going to be soon. I just wanted you to know that I thought Michael was a cool guy and I don't want you to forget him."

"How can I forget him? I AM him."

"I know but I'm sure Gemma is going to be a different person than Michael."

"No, I'm not," it was tricky talking about two people who were essentially the same person but I was adamant to make my point, "I am the same guy as I was a week ago. Same guy with these …things…," I juggled those disgusting boobs on my chest, "strapped to me!" I took the locket and carelessly coiled it back into its box.

"Dot didn't mean anything…"

I cut Kev off. "I know, it's just I don't feel like a different person," I said feeling like a completely different person, "I mean, I would love you to treat me just as you did before, OK? That would be the best present you guys could get me."

The mood lightened as the conversation went on. Since me becoming a girl was the number one news topic in the country we didn't really talk about anything else. Glen had brought in a copy of a newspaper that had a computer generated image of what I might look like when P.E. had finished with me. It wasn't quite like looking in the mirror but it wasn't too bad. I had to be slightly amazed to see the whole first three pages of the paper dedicated to me. Stories about the history of P.E., interviews with Dr. Chisholm and Mrs. Higgins, opinion pieces about my troubles, explanations of the disease and the electronic pulse treatment I was receiving. I knew it was a human-interest story, but I didn't know it was that interesting.

"You are a bona fide star," Glen gushed, "The press are lining up like outside the hospital like you are Tom Cruise or Katie Holmes or something!"

"Mrs. Higgins held a full school assembly and prohibited anyone for talking to the press that were hanging out front of the school. Everyone was super distracted all day. It was like when a dog stumbles onto school grounds, you know how crazy everyone gets when that happens?" For a sleepy beach town a wandering dog is big news, "Well, your transformation is like that times a thousand!" Dot handed me one of those oversized envelopes that almost certainly contained one of those oversized cards that allows a lot of people to sign, but it wasn't addressed to me.

"You're not allowed to open this card, Michael. Only Gemma can!" she teased. Although I didn't want to admit defeat and begin calling myself a girl's name I did want to see inside the envelope.

Before I could get into another Michael is Gemma, Gemma is Michael debate, a nurse bustled in and told the visitors they had to go. "You going to be OK?" asked Dot.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said, "Next time you see me, I'll be …umm… finished." She looked at me as if that was a moot point, and I guess it was, I was already so very female.

"Well, you are already prettier than me." The nurse hurried everyone out and they said their goodbyes.

"Helloooo!" sung the rather too chipper nurse. She was an older woman maybe in her late forties with grey streaks glimmering through her wispy auburn hair. She looked like a nurse. Even without the uniform and the fact she was in a hospital, she looked like she was born to be a nurse. She had a warm but weathered face like she had cared for many people, some who came out of here better and some who didn't. Her name badge read 'Lesley'.

"Hi," I responded.

"Aren't you lucky? I'm one of the two nurses charged to take care of you. You've got me and Hannah, the night shift girl. New girl, she's very nice," Lesley chatted away, "The Sydney mob who came down to look after you, want there to be as few hospital staff as possible dealing with you. Guess they don't want the press comin' in bothering everyone, which is fair enough. They made me sign this thing that I wouldn't take pictures of you or talk to the reporters or anything. But I wouldn't do anything like that to you… Miss Taylor. I mean, I've known you since you were a baby." That might have been true, Marrang has a population about 30,000 people and thus it's small enough for a lot of people to know you and large enough for you not to know them.

Nurse Lesley clarified where she knew me, "Oh, I'm Will and Brooke's Mum." Ah! I had gone to kindergarten, primary and now secondary school with Will and Brooke O'Neill. They were twins of the high achieving nature. You all know they type; athletic, studious and friendly, the perfect kids. I actually went to their birthday parties when were younger. But as what often happens we fell into different cliques at high school. I would say hi to them and things, but we weren't playing Four Square and sharing fruit roll-ups together anymore.

"Oh hi, Mrs. O'Neill… Sorry, I didn't recognize you."

"Well, I hardly recognize you either!"

"I bet," I laughed. Lesley stuck a thermometer into my mouth and began to talk,

"Well, at least you turned out to be a pretty young thing. I've seen of the pictures of people who went through Spontaneous Sexual Reconfiguration and they come out worse looking but you've really blossomed, not to say that you were ugly before. You're quite 'robust' if you know what I mean? Quite 'chesty.' Just make sure you wear a bra all the time, OK? Your lower back will thank me. Gee, you're cute! But I'm sure you don't want to hear that you're a pretty girl, right? Ah well, it's the truth though. And many doors get opened for a pretty girl. You'll have the blokes knocking the door down to get to you. I'm not sure if you're interested in boys or not, but you're pretty enough to get a girl if you are that way. But that's none of my business, now is it? Looking at you now, it's pretty much impossible to know you were a boy. You look a lot like your sister, but more 'classically' beautiful, you know? Bigger eyes, well shaped nose, just… prettier." She took out the thermometer and looked at it. "You look healthy too. How are you?"

Wow. She actually stopped talking long enough to ask me a question. I was completely flustered that answering didn't come easy. I resorted to nodding. "Good, good," Mrs. O'Neill started up again, "If you want anything just give me a call, OK hun? You're doing so well. I'm sure my kids would be scared out of their gourd if it happened to them. You seem to be coping alright. You're not being a bloody sook or anything. Sure, you're being a little quiet but that's to be expected. Look, you've got a few more people waiting to see you, do you want to see them?" Again, terrified, all I could do is nod.

Many people have always said that the most important things in life were friends and family. Well, since I had already had one half come and visit me it was time for the second half. "No effing way!" was the loud call that alerted me to my sister entering the room. Oh lucky me! I was being visited by the women I was beginning to resemble; my Mum (again!) and my sister. Silently in tow was Nicole's boyfriend Ben, trying to feign nonchalance as best he could. He was older than Nicole, around 23 I'd guess and worked as an electrician. Playing footy was his life, and despite my first impression of him being uncouth and a bit of a dickhead, he was really good for Nicole. He seemed a little out of his depth here though.
"G'day," he muttered.

"Hey," I answered. We were guys and that was all the conversation we needed. In that exchange what was actually conveyed was:

BEN: It's a shame what happened to you. You are a nice guy and it sucks that you have to go through this. However, Nicole dragged me here and I'm more than a little uncomfortable. You're kinda a girl now and whatever amity we built up over the short moments we spent together isn't enough to be massively freaked out. In a gesture of goodwill though, I am going to act supremely casual, as if I see this everyday and will only stare at your boobs once.

ME: Totally understandable. This is a difficult situation for us all and I excuse you. Thank you for looking after my sister, I know she can be a total handful.

I hoped without my penis I would still be able to talk the 'man language'. The alternative, 'woman talk' as recently demonstrated by Nurse O'Neill and my sister, was quite scary. "Mum warned me that you had changed A LOT! But this is heaps! You look like a completely different person."

"I know," I said, reassuring her I had seen a mirror.

"It looks like you're taking a bit after Mum and me," Nicole hinted unsubtly about my bust, "You're going to be a Top-heavy Taylor!" It was then Ben took his pre-arranged glance at my boobs. "All the girls at work are barracking for you, kid. I'm famous now as the sister of the guy with P.E.!"

"Lucky you!" I cheered sarcastically.

"How are you feeling, love?" Mum asked as she patted my forehead.

"I'm OK, feeling a little more stable now. How's the rest of the world?" I actually missed having a window in my room. The entire world could have been destroyed but here in my little cell, I could only find out through second hand information.

"The whole world are all wandering how you are doin'. You're being talked about all over the TV and radio. People have been sending 'Get Well' letters and sending flowers, but the hospital doesn't want to crowd you so we've been keeping them safe for you at home for the moment."

"Any from Dad?" My hopeful comment made Mum laugh.

"I doubt it, Mikey!" It dashed my spirits a little that my absent father wouldn't even contact me during this, my very serious and extremely public ordeal. But I guess since he missed pretty much everything since me learning to use the big boy toilet, me transforming into a girl is a tricky place to start fathering again.

"The doctors told me that they are happy with how you are doing," Mum said.

"You're so fricking brave!" Since Nicole was in a public place her swearing was somewhat reduced down to 'fricking' and 'effing.' "I'm not sure if I got P.E I could handle being a hairy, sweaty bloke. What about you, Ben?" Ben spoke softly as Nicole did loudly.

"I am a hairy, sweaty bloke," he jokingly said trying to avoid the answer. That would not stop Nicole though.

"No, ya goose, if you caught Pussy Envy could you cope being a girl?"

That was a very scary question to ask a guy who was staring at what the result of that question was. But he did answer it as best he could, "Not as well as Michael is."

Mum, usually the person to put me in awkward conversations actually steered it somewhere else, "I was talking to Tyler just before. He doesn't want to come and bother today you but wanted to remind you that you had to start thinking about what you wanted to say at the press conference. Now, he told me that told didn't have do a speech if you didn't want to, he could read out a statement. But he said it would be better if it came out of you. So, just start thinking about that. It'll probably be not tomorrow but the day after in the gardens across the road."

"Do you know what Gemma's gonna wear?" Nicole asked Mum.

"We'll let Gemma decide that, Nicky," Mum said, as if this fictional 'Gemma' character would possibly care what she wore.

"Tyler is going to drop by tomorrow sometime. So are Nanna and Pa and Aunty Ros. The lil Indian doctor said that they were going to finish the process early tomorrow, giving to the rest of the day to adjust to it all. Annette is going to be spending a lot of time with you," Yay! Another reason I cannot wait to be all girl!

I yawned. I didn't mean to, but something interesting happened. The yawn flicked a switch in my mother's maternal mind and she whirred into action like a tin toy. "Oh sorry, sweetie! I didn't realize you were so tired. Come on kids let's skedattle and leave Mikey here to get some rest." Mum kissed me on the forehead and shepherded my sister and her eager-to-leave boyfriend out of the hospital. All it took was a simple yawn to clear the room, I must remember that.

With Television willing and able to talk all things Michael/Gemma Taylor and the fact I was now well and truly sick of me and that 'Gemma' girl, I decided I would watch a DVD from my collection. I selected 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest'. I had seen it a lot because I was a massive fan of Jack Nicholson but this viewing was a lot different. The movie is about Jack was trapped in a hospital, observing all the crazy people around him. It seemed to be very relevant to me and my situation. Relevant or not I fell asleep before the end.

Tomorrow, I would become 'Gemma'.
Shit!

CHAPTER 8

Usually the sun peeking into my room would be the culprit of waking me up. I liked waking up that way and would never fully close my curtains, unless I wanted to sleep in. But my current room had no windows; it was deep in the hospital where sunlight would have no chance sneaking into. My room was pitch black when I woke up, somebody must have turned off my DVD. I sat up slowly and took a deep breath. Ugh! I felt the barely familiar tug of two heavy breasts. My hands clutched at them, kneading them with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. I moaned in annoyance and flopped back into bed.

Today was Michael's last day in the world, and Gemma's first. Being the slightly neurotic dweeb I am I had often thought about the day I die. I didn't believe in a God at all and didn't have any thoughts of an afterlife. However, I suppose in some ways I was being reborn as a girl. The fact of the matter was I was practically a fully functional girl already. All that was happening today was a smoothing of the edges and some final adjustments. After a small electric jolt in a few hours, no one would be able to guess I was born male. Although thanks to extended news coverage there would be no doubt that everyone in Australia had already heard about me.

I showered for the first time in such a 'womanly' state. The warm spray bounced off my ample chest and dribbled down to my stomach. Being shorter gave me a weird sort of vertigo, whenever I walked I felt very conscious of how much closer to the ground I was. Those stupid little robots had robbed me of my growth spurt that I had when I turned 15. I jabbed myself in the ribs, hard, hoping that I at least damaged a few of those microscopic little bastards. At least the shower pressure was good. Whenever I go somewhere that is my biggest concern. At my house the water is almost always cold and the pressure is a little less than a trickle. It's like showering under a drainpipe. Whenever I stay the night at Dot's or Glen's I always have a massive shower in the morning. Sure, it's not a good thing to do considering we are all in the middle of a drought, but I never take long showers at home so this balances things out.

With a twist of the knob the torrent of water became a trickle, then a dribble and then stopped completely. I grabbed the rather starchy hospital towel and patted myself dry. Coincidently, while I was drying myself, the cute girl in the mirror also dried herself. I turned my back, not wanting to acknowledge her and got dressed. Under doctor's orders, I wasn't supposed to leave my room and thus I was getting cabin fever. Although I had plenty to do; write my speech, watch TV/movies, listen to my iPod or write in my new journal, I wanted nothing more than to wander the halls of the hospital.

Screw them! What punishment could they give me that would be worse than taking my dick away? I guess it was my rebellious teenager kicking in after following every single rule since I got here in the hospital. I slid on my slippers and prepared my break out! Oh the things I would see! Old people sleeping! Nurses pushing old people in wheelchairs! More old people sleeping! I really wished I had brought my camera!! I walked to the door and took a deep breath like Neil Armstrong must have done before his 'one small step'.

"Oh! Good morning! Didn't expect you to be awake," said the beard with the doctor attached. I jumped back in fright, like Neil Armstrong would have done if his doctor greeted him when he opened the door.

"Hi Dr. Chisholm," I stammered.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Dr. Chisholm was obviously unaware of my jailbreak attempt so I could rest easy.

"OK, I guess. Still haven't found a cure?"

"No," he replied, "I think a cure is still a long way off. We don't even really know what we are dealing with." I knew it was a long shot, but you never know. However if they had found a cure, I'm pretty sure he would have opened the conversation with it. It's not the kind of thing you forget to mention.

"Can I be honest? I know it's just going to be the same as the rest of the zaps but I'm scared."

"I don't blame you, Michael. What you are going through is impossible for me to even imagine and I have been studying SGR for 2 years now. I've been all around the world meeting a lot people who went through the change, read and written countless articles about it and yet I cannot fathom how scary a path it must be. But I want you to know the whole team think you are being extremely brave." He gave me an awkward pat on the back.

"Thanks."

"So are you comfortable in becoming a young woman?"

"Well, it hasn't been too painful, aside from some aching muscles and just feeling out of it. But I would much rather be a guy again. But in the grand scheme of things I'm sure it's not that big of a hassle. I can still be whatever I want to be."

"That's the spirit! Being a woman shouldn't stop any of your dreams in life." That was true but it didn't stop me feeling absolutely awful. He gave me a basic once over, checking my heart rate and my temperature.

"Well, your body is ready to go. When do you want to do this?" asked the Doctor as he chewed on a pencil.

"Let's get it over wuth!" I said, hiding my true feelings that wanted me to scream 'NEVER!' and run from the room.

My footsteps clomped down the echo filled corridors of the hospital. I was a dead man walking, so to speak and I sobbed a little. Dr. Chisholm asked me if I was OK, and I nodded. So, we continued to walk, each step a fraction closer to that damn metal bar and the shock that would awaken the last of the nanobots, they would begin their work and finish the job that their friends started, and I would stand up, a woman. Despite this gloom running through my mind, I didn't slow down. In fact I walked faster. I'm not entirely sure why.

The whole team of experts were there. Annette, Dr. Nagra and Dr. Jensen were all there waiting, almost salivating at the chance to see medical history. I was medical history. The second victim of SGR in Australia, the first male. The history books would read Kate Draffen and then Michael Taylor and then another poor soul and then another until they found a cure. Everyone in the room was quiet. A mixture of nervous excitement and a solemn almost a funeral like feeling. "Hi guys!" I said to jolt them out of their silence.

"uh… hi!" everyone replied.

"I just want to thank you guys for all your work. I really do appreciate it, although I'm not too happy with the results," there was a nervous laugh, "Look, I'm not looking forward to this. But let's get it over and done with."

I was asked, "How are you feeling?" by Dr. Nagra. As he tinkled with the equipment, I told him I was OK. "You're looking healthy," Dr. Nagra said as with a glint in his eye. I liked Dr. Nagra, he was probably my favourite of the doctors, he never talked down to me like I felt Annette did and he was a little less stuffy than the elder Dr. Chisholm. Annette came over to me, looking concerned.

"Hi Michael," she said through clenched teeth, "Now, this is going to be your final change, Michael. It is probably going to be a very traumatic for you. But I want you to know that you have a humungous support network and we are all barracking for you."

"Yes, I know," I said, trying to fob her off.

"Are you ready for this?"

"I guess so." She helped me undress. I lifted up my arms and let Annette tug my T-shirt off, exposing my very female chest. I kicked my tracksuit pants off and sat down, wearing only my underwear. Despite having the doctors practically study my naked body 6 hours a day for the last few days I still felt a little shy.

Dr. Nagra handed me the metal bar. "Last time," Dr. Chisholm said. I gripped the bar tightly looking down at the hands that held it. The hands had changed so much from the first time I held the bar. First off, they were definitely smaller, that was obvious. Also they were delicate, of course, and a little chubbier. I wondered if they would change more once the last shock came travelling down the wires.

Silently, a little peace was made. I was saying goodbye to being male. Even though there was nothing truly male about me anymore, I wasn't truly female. Supposedly, this final shock would introduce me to a world of periods and the potential to become pregnant. While there was no chance whatsoever of the latter I would have to endure the pain of the former, monthly. In fact, there were a lot of things that would be different. Oh shit! I was going to be a girl! I didn't want to be a girl! Why me? They didn't have to do this, right? They could find a way to reverse this. There must be a slim chance if I didn't go through this last zap they could find a way to fix me. If I did go through with it though, I bet they couldn't fix me ever! I don't want to be a girl! I must tell them!

With my mind racing a million miles a minutes, the sounds of my inner voice screaming at me drowned out the countdown that Dr. Nagra was providing. I went to scream to stop as I felt it. The tingle began through my hands and soon my whole body felt electric. I was too late. There was no turning back, the stinging sensation felt all over my body informed me of that. I looked around wildly at my changing body. Although nothing too drastic seemed to be happening, I began to freak out. I clamped my eyes shut and wished that everything would go away.

And it did.

I was surrounded by silence. And darkness. It was a very relaxing place to be in contrast to my thought-racing, heart-pounding terror of a few seconds ago. Nothing was scary. Nothing was threatening. Nothing was happening. I was content to be there, floating through an abyss. My gender wasn't an issue anymore, as I had no body. I was floating. It was serene. It was lovely. Suddenly, light began pouring in, spilling in and destroying the peaceful darkness. I tried to squeeze all the light out but it was futile. Blinding light took hold and violently dispersed the harmless, loving darkness until there was none of it left.

I was awake.

And female.

In my hospital room.

Since the room was windowless I had no idea no idea what the time was. How long had I been asleep? Days? Months? Probably not but who knows? A thought hit me. I suddenly remember what was happening last time I was conscious. But unlike the panic that had earlier gripped me, I felt numb. Groggily I climbed off the bed and plodded into the bathroom. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool. I pulled the string for the light and looked into the mirror. A sorrowful sigh echoed off the bathroom walls. I thought I was girly before. I guess the last 20% had a real kick to it because I was much more feminine now.

As suspected I was shorter, maybe even shorter than my mum now but probably not as short as Nicole. My face was… cuter. A soft layer of puppy fat over my rounder face gave me a young, innocent look. I practiced a smile and noticed I was blessed/cursed with dimples. I poked out my tongue and wiggled it about, even that was different. My eyes were big and inviting even with the glazed look they now had. It was weird to see how much had changed. My teeth were different. My hairline started higher on my head, and my hair was a lighter shade of brown, thinner and longer. I now had those cute tiny ears that some girls have. There was only a bare passing resemblance to who I was before, unlike yesterday where I kinda looked like a female version of myself.

And that was just my face. My body had grabbed femininity and shook it until every last drop had come out. Yesterday I had boobs. Today, I had BOOBS! I turned to one side and flattened the T-shirt against my tummy. Yes, they had definitely grown, not just in size, but also in perkiness. I certainly took after my mother when it came to my body, there was a new 'Top Heavy Taylor' in town. To add to my Top-Heaviness my bum wasn't that big, it was small, round and pert. It didn't do much to balance me out. Also, although I had quite a small waist below my breasts, my hips weren't much wider. My sister often complained that when shopping for a bathing suit she would have to buy a different size top and bottom. If I ever wanted to buy a bikini (highly doubtful) I'm sure I would encounter that same problem.

"Testing, testing, 1…2…3." I wasn't too surprised with the revelation that my voice was even higher than yesterday. I know the way you hear you own voice is different to how everyone else hears you, so I would be interested in hearing it recorded. I am sure there are a few people with recording equipment just outside this hospital who would be very willing to oblige.

The prognosis was terrible: I had become a somewhat cute, overdeveloped 17 year old girl. True, it was better than dying, but life was only going to get weirder before becoming saner. Not only did I have to learn the basics of being a completely different human being I had to do while the whole country watched. I waved at myself in the mirror, "Hi world! My name is Gemma." I had to give up this 'Michael' charade; I was well and truly Gemma.

I missed being 'Michael' already. I did feel numb earlier but the foggy feeling was lifting. I was going to be stuck like this for a long time, in this weird body and I didn't want to be. Although it wasn't going to help anything, I cried. My little hands scrunched up in a fist and I punched myself, frustrated. Maybe this wasn't better than being dead, after all.

I couldn't keep my thoughts straight. The only thought I could keep still in my mind was, 'This isn't fair!' And it's true, with so many people in the world, why did it happen to me? There are people who are born the wrong gender why couldn't the robots get them, they would enjoy having boobs the size of small submarines. Why couldn't it happen to a baby who wouldn't know any better or and old person who wouldn't have long to live. I'll never know why it picked me; a 17-year-old boy who really enjoyed his penis.

I hid myself from the world under a hail of sheets being flung into the air. The sound of my sobs alerted someone I was now awake. "Gemma, is everything OK?" asked Annette, sounding like she had just peeked her head in.

"Fuck off!" was my response. I didn't want to talk to anyone, especially that patronizing bitch. I felt a hand trying and comfort me. Fuck that! I am special. No one else in the entire country is going through what I am now and thus have no idea what I'm feeling! How dare she presume she can relate to me? I blindly extended my leg out in an effort to kick her. My clenched fists swung wildly as she took off the sheets. "Fuck off!!!!" I reminded her.

My shouting must have attracted some more attention because I heard Dr. Chisholm's voice, "Calm down, Michael!" Michael? He's not allowed to use that name!

"You killed Michael, you fucker!" And I meant it too. My life was perfectly fine before I met Dr. Chisholm. I was your average high school kid, looking forward to dancing at his Deb ball and who enjoyed the beach. Then he entered my life and I became some big titted freak! "Michael's dead!" I repeated over and over. They tried to turn me onto my back, but I wasn't helping, thrashing like a petulant 5 year-old at the supermarket. "Don't touch me!" I howled. They tried to pin my hands by my side but I fidgeted one free. With my free hand I swung it at whoever was on my left side. It connected, and Annette let go. She yelped in pain and before I knew it there was a lot of people in the room, all with hands, and all trying to restrain me.

"Change me back!" I commanded to the doctors who had no intention of doing that. I was their prize; a huge titted bimbo they could show off to their scientist friends. They just loved watching me transform, didn't they? I bet they remarked on how they were going to enjoy me once I was 100% pussy. I bet they wanked off to the videos of me transforming. That's why they didn't change me back! "Fucking let go of me!" my new voice was so painfully piercing, "You're hurting me!" They were all shouting things as well. I couldn't tell who was there, and didn't care! "Fuck off!" By now, I couldn't move. There were hands all over my limbs, holding them to the bed with great force. "Michael's dead, you cunts!" I screamed as I felt something jab into my arm.

A needle! Great! It's because of those fucking things that I'm in this position. If I had gotten my needle first like Dot wanted they wouldn't have injected me with the nanobots at the hospital for their sick little experiment. "That hurt!" I wailed. What were they filling me full of now? Fucking poison? I could feel the darkness creep back into my life again. I stopped struggling and ran towards it, loving the emptiness enveloping me. The horrid light and the horrendous world it brings disappeared as the dark took command.

My time in the darkness was beautifully dull. I liked it there.

There was nothing to do and no reason to do anything at all. I didn't even have to think. So I didn't. No thinking, no worrying about what the newspaper people want, no stressing about the gash between my legs, no panicking that Mum was going to force me into the stupid deb dress, no thoughts about bras and how I would have to wear them from now on, no more longings for Holly. Just the black. I know this may not sound to appealing to you, but when all the thoughts you are faced with outside the darkness are bad, the darkness takes on a wonderful allure.

So much so that I was angry when the darkness began to ebb once again. My brain slowly began to whirr and the thoughts warmed up. But the thoughts didn't pick up speed, they continued their plodding path through my mind. The painful blur of bad thoughts and worries was now a warm trickle of dumbed down observations. I was warn. The room was bright. There were people all around me. They were smiling. There was Mum and Dr. Chisholm and the nurse and Dr. Jensen and Dr. Nagra. Annette wasn't there and that made me feel good.

"Mmrmm umph?" was my icebreaker.

"Shhh, honey. Don't speak," Mum said as she brushed my hair with her hands.

Since I was in a rebellious mood I tried to speak again, "Am I still a girl?" Mum's eyes suddenly saddened, she didn't want to say anything.

"Yes," Dr. Chisholm spoke, "You're a perfectly healthy young woman. But more importantly, a perfectly healthy human." That news should have angered me, or saddened me, but my thoughts wouldn't sink that deeply.

"Oh," I murmured, "That's OK, I guess." I asked for a glass of water and Nurse O'Neill left to room to get one. "I'm pretty, aren't I?"

"Yes, you're very beautiful," my Mum gently cooed.

"I thought so," I said, sounding a little glum about it, "I don't want to be a girl."

"It's OK, all the nice doctors are going to make sure you're well looked after."

I sat up and sipped my water, my mouth felt very dry and I downed the glass in one go. "Thank you, Mrs. O'Neill," I told the nurse.

"Just doing my job," she smiled a welcoming smile that made her seem younger. The light in the room suddenly hurt my eyes and I went to rub them. As I did, my hand brushed past my new breasts. I looked down at them, pushing the T-shirt out.

"My boobs are big," I lamented.

"Well, you are my kid," Mum softly joked.

"I feel weird."

"That's because we gave you something to calm you down. You were quite feisty before, you gave Dr. Fischer a black eye!" Dr. Nagra told me. Dr. Fischer? Oh that's Annette's name. Excellent! I smiled a little bit and Dr. Nagra smiled back. He understood.

"Now I understand this is very scary for you," Dr. Chisholm paused and it looked liked he wanted to use my name but was unsure of which name to say, "But you must realize that we are all here for you. None of us are here to hurt you. So, the next time you feel scared or angry or sad just call for one of us." I replied by giving a little nod and then yawning.

When I awoke the next time, I felt a lot less drugged up. I'm not sure what they gave me but it felt nice, that's for sure. When I was younger I used to sometimes wonder if there were anti-depressant pills that made people feel happy, why didn't everyone take them all the time? The answer to that question is a little more apparent to me these days.

Mum diligently sat beside, reading an old magazine that was probably from the waiting room. And even probably the same one she was reading the other day. She looked stressed out, the way I would see her around Christmas time if the ends were getting a little tough to meet or when she was really busy at work and would come home to a mess that Nicole or I had carelessly made. The colour from her face was muted, and she looked tired. I hadn't thought much about how tough this must have been for Mum. Crazy doctors were telling her strange things about her son swallowing coins to build robots and how his penis would transform into a vagina. No mother in this entire country had ever had to deal with that before. And she was coping, not only coping but also making me feel a little better about the whole thing.

"I love you, Mum," I said she looked up from her reading to check on me.

Her beaten down look seemed to warm as she looked at me, "I love you too…" There was that pause again. She was unsure what to call me.

I confirmed my name for her and the rest of the world, "Gemma."

"Gemma," she repeated. We sat in a healthy silence for a little bit. The hum of the neon lights above us the only sound. "You gave me a scare, Gem." Gem? No. Part of the appeal of 'Gemma' was that there was no way for Mum to make a dorky little pet name like that. However after one use it seems like she was sick of 'Gemma'!

"Were you there when I lost it?"

"Yep."

"When I punched Annette?"

"You gave me a fair kick in the chops too!"

"Sorry."

"It was very scary!"

"Well, I really don't want to be a girl."

"So, you can't promise me that wont happen again?"

I thought about it for a moment. I really didn't want to be in this body. I didn't like my cutesy face, I didn't like the overstuffed boobs and I certainly didn't like that slit in between my legs. Being captured inside this short little body was going to piss me off very much. I just couldn't promise my Mum that I wouldn't go a little wild again. She had to know that this was a dangerous place for me to be. I looked up at her, "No, Mum. This is going to be tough for me for a while. Just keep an eye on me, OK?" She nodded, with a look of concern plastered across her face.

"How are you feeling?"

"Weird, I think the drug is starting to wear off now. I couldn't think straight before, now I can. My head still feels…mushy."

"The little Indian fellow…"

"Dr. Nagra," I offered Mum his name.

"Yeah, him. He said you will be feeling woozy for little while."

"What's the time?"

"About 3," Mum answered, "You've been drifting in and out of sleep all day, so I suppose you're a bit confused."

"Happy to have two daughters, Mum?"

"Just happy you pulled through, Gemma. I couldn't care less if you were my son or my daughter!"

I grimaced, "I know which one I'd rather choose."

"You never know, you may learn to love it!" I looked down at my mountainous bosom and pondered the rest of my life.

"I seriously doubt it."

As the last morsel of sandwich tumbled down my throat, I felt healthier, not a whole lot happier but at least I was brimming with energy. Mum and I chatted about a lot of things while Dr. Chisholm took some data. We talked about how much I was on the news last night, how Nanna and my Auntie had stayed over last night, how scared Ben was seeing me yesterday. It was a nice chat. Meanwhile, I did the things I had gotten use to over the last couple of days, stand on the scales, get measured, read out a sample sentence so that they could measure the changes in my voice, had my pulse taken and even a blood sample. Needles, while they still hurt, were hardly as scary as they were a week ago. "You've got a clean bill of health from me, Gemma," said Dr. Chisholm, finally using my name after hearing my mother using it several times and deciding it was safe.

"That's good, I guess."

"Knock, Knock!" chimed in a voice from behind the door as he slid it open. It was my publicist, Tyler. He was again impeccably dressed from the shiny jet black shoes to his shiny jet black hair. "Michael?" he asked, incredulously as he stared at me.

"Sort of," I answered, gingerly looking at the floor.

"Wow! You look so fantastic! Just like your Mum!" Tyler had this way of talking that made yo feel special. Even though having my looks compared to my Mum would rate as one of the worse compliments you could give me at that moment I took it with a smile. My mum, on the other hand, was practically giggling.

"Well, she does come from good stock! Come on in and have a seat, you cheeky bugger!" Swiftly, with a spring in his step, Tyler came by and sat by my bed.

"How are you going… Are we calling you Gemma now?"

"Might as well. And I am fine as can be expected." Tyler made eye contact with me for a brief second, smiled and flipped open his book.

"Now, there are a few things to discuss before tomorrow."

"Take it away, I got no place to be."

"Let's just start by saying the press are all very eager to meet you. My phone has been ringing non-stop about you, ever since I took you on board. Your story has really struck a nerve with the country. You've got best wishes messages sent by everyone from the Prime Minister down." It was interesting picturing the Prime Minister sitting in his office, thinking about me. The image of that really made me think of how much of a big story mine must be. By just staying inside a hospital I had become a national celebrity. There were probably a heap of people were talking about me at that very moment. So far being a national celebrity didn't feel very different to being an unknown.

"You've got to decide what you want to say tomorrow. And I don't just mean what is going to come out of your mouth. I mean what is the message you want to give out: 'I'm a girl and loving it!'? 'I'm being strong in this tough time'? It's up to you up the message we give out." Tyler chewed on a pen as he scribbled down who knows what into his notebook.

"The second one," I said, slightly tearing up, "because I'm not exactly happy about…" I stopped the sentence to sniffle a bit.

"It's OK," Tyler said, "I know this must be tough for you. You're going through something very personal and yet the whole country wants every little detail. Most people get a little bit of space to go through personal things. If this is all too much, I can come back later?"

I sat up and swung my legs out of the bed, "No, it's fine. Let's keep going."

"You'll be super-dooper excited that me and your psychologist, Annette have been clothes shopping for you to get you something for tomorrow," Tyler said with a good dollop of sarcasm. Great! I can just imagine Annette nursing her black eye and a grudge picking out a pretty pink dress for me to wear.

"Nothing too girly?" I nervously asked.

"Made sure of that. Since it's going to be quite hot tomorrow, around 30, we've gone for the jeans/singlet combination. Young, casual, unisex. I think that's the best way to present you tomorrow. Not try and flog you off as the girliest girl and not still as a bloke but as a boy who has been through a tough transformation and finds himself in this young female body."

"Sounds OK with me."

Tyler jotted down something in his book again. It seems like he could think about a thousand things at once and keep them all straight. "Good, because I am not happy, unless you are happy. Now about your speech, I understand you are pretty much the star performer at your school? Well, that is a great advantage because there will be a lot of people there to see you tomorrow. If it's OK I want the whole thing to kick off around ten in the morning because news people are happy people if the news happens in the morning, more time to prepare. You can talk for as much or as little as you feel comfortable with. Usually at these press conferences you field a few questions after your speech, would you be happy to do that?"

"Umm…I guess so."

"Good to know. Also I've managed to score quite a large sum of money for you and your family by Channel 7, they basically bought exclusive television interview rights. Now what they really want is some 'backstage' footage of you preparing for the press conference tomorrow; talking to your mum, being looked after by Dr. Chisholm, that sort of thing. They want to do the main interview with you some time next week. It's going to be with Anna Coren, from Today Tonight. Now stop me if you don't like any of this."

He was saying so much it was hard to take it all in. While his mind was perfectly fine to slip along at this speed, I had been drugged and electrocuted already that day. My eyes boggled with too much information. "…I guess it's OK," I stammered. Mum, who had been strangely silent (probably ogling Tyler's fit body) spoke up, "Now, how much money did you end up getting us?" Predictable. But I guess since we weren't exactly rich, the idea of having some spending money was highly attractive.

"Well, Mrs. Taylor the only deal I've done is the Channel 7 story. Haven't organized a newspaper deal or a magazine deal yet, because let's just say this deal is significantly better than I thought it would be."
"How much better?"

Tyler took a deep breath, "You'll be paid about $2.25 million." Now to a boy who lives in a tiny, decaying house by the sea, who eat primarily shop-bought lasagne heated up by his mum just over two million dollars is a lot of money. To a woman who works part time at a pub, has two mouths to feed and has always struggled through all her life $2,250,000 is enough to make her scream, loudly!

"Wow! But I thought you'd say we'd get like three hundred grand? Not two bloody million!" Mum jabbered on.

"Well, that was a very wrong estimate on my part. The TV stations are very interested in your story. Everyone around this country has fallen in love with the Taylor family. But nothing is official until I get your signature on it, Mrs Taylor." Mrs. Taylor? I would take Gemma and maybe even Miss. Taylor but calling me Mrs. Taylor was going a little to far. That was until I realized he actually meant Mrs. Taylor, my Mum (who in fact is a Miss. Taylor, as she never married my Dad whose last name was Schiffmann). I was still only 17 and thus still only a kid in the eyes of contract law. "If you want, Gemma, we can leave you alone while me and you Mum sort out all this boring paperwork?" I sighed. Now I always consider me to be the more responsible one in comparison to my mum, so putting an offer of two million in her hands seemed a little scary. I was afraid for a few dollars more she might sign me up for a Playboy shoot or something, but I guess I had to trust her.

"OK, run along."

Well, there was an upside to all this, I was going to be rich. Although I wouldn't have gone through this all voluntarily for $10 million, it was nice that I was getting some compensation. Kate Draffen never sold his story, in fact since becoming a man he hardly leaves his house. I wasn't sure if I would become a recluse. 17 years old is a little young to lock yourself away forever. And yet there was some appeal to taking all the money, buying a nice small house, getting all my food delivered and never having to leave again. But I think I have too many meddling (read loving) people in my life to let me achieve that.

The rest of my day was one big blur- a long cavalcade of examinations, visitors and lectures. My Grandmother told me she found me 'breathtakingly gorgeous'. My Grandfather lamented not having any grandsons anymore. Glen said I had changed heaps since yesterday. Dot elbowed him in the ribs. Dr. Chisholm revealed to me that the nanobots had fully completed the transformation. I worked on my speech a bit. I opened the card Dot had given 'Gemma' which was signed by a lot of my friends from school. My Auntie thought I looked a lot like my Dad's sister, the Chiko Roll girl. I apologised for the black eye Annette was now sporting. Annette spoke to me at length about my new biology. Mum brought some take away food for me to eat and we sat and watched TV together with Nicole. Nicole couldn't stay long because she had netball practise but told me I looked hot.

But there was one last group of visitors before the night ended. "These are the last people to come and see you," Nurse O'Neill said, "And you've only got a few minutes before visiting hours are over, OK love?" I was happy to hear it. Despite my only physical activity was walking from the examination room and back, I was quite exhausted.

"Hi," said the little voice as they peered around the corner. It was Holly. She smiled nervously as she approached the bed, her hair bouncing up and down in a casual ponytail behind her. Alongside Holly was her little sister, Fiona. I assume Holly had brought as a security blanket, something to stop me freaking out on her or something. I knew Fiona from the school plays, she was an amazing dancer and a bit of an extrovert. She was friendly with everyone, despite being a massive know-it-all.

"Hi guys," I said, sitting at the little table they had set up for me, "Come on. Sit down." They did as they were told, looking as if they were scared to not follow my orders exactly. "Great room," Holly joked.

"Yeah, I'm not allowed to have any windows."

"Why's that?" asked Fiona.

"So that the paparazzi don't sneak a picture of me."

Fiona informed me, "We got checked for cameras before we were let in. We had to convince them we were really your
friends before they would let us in."

"Yeah, I thought it might have been only family allowed to see you, that's why we haven't been around earlier. But Glen told me today that they let in close friends too, so we thought we would visit," Holly stared vacantly at a spot above my eyes. She was too scared to look me in the eyes, but too polite to look away.

"So, how are you feeling?" I was getting pretty sick of that question.

"I'm OK, I've had better days."

"When did you…?" Holly struggled to find the words.

"Become a girl? The transformation finished this morning." All this talk of guys tuning into girls was too much for Holly who politely steered the conversation back somewhere else.

"So, how's the food here? When I broke my arm when I was young I remember refusing to eat the food. But you know me, I've always been a fussy eater." It's true, she didn't even like pizza.

"Since I'm not technically sick, Mum sneaks me in take away." Although this was friendly banter, it felt a little stilted, rehearsed even. My favourite thing about Holly was how fun she was to talk to but this was a pale imitation to the fun we used to have.

"So, are you a real girl?" asked Fiona. As much as I dislike the awkward small talk between Holly and me, I wanted less to answer Fiona's question.

"Mentally I'm still Michael but physically I'm as female as you."

"Probably even more so!" Fiona answered, making me hunch over a little trying to mask the size of my breasts. It's a thing I have seen a lot of large breasted, self-conscious girls do, and then they develop bad posture as well.

"So," Fiona continued her interrogation, "How big are they?"

"I don't know. Too big!"

"Did it hurt when they grew?" Holly, like me, had had enough of that particular line of questioning. Sure, she might have been curious to know the answer but she was polite enough to know that you shouldn't ask that type of question.

"Fiona!" she scolded.

"No, it's OK," I said, a little tersely, "A little bit, much not much."

Luckily the breast questions died out and we began talking about all the media. "I actually got a call last night from a journo wondering if I was still doing the Deb Ball with you!" Holly said in her could-you-imagine-such-a-thing voice, "How they found out we were doing the Deb together I don't know!" She giggled and I saw the thought bubble above her head of me squeezed into a suit, leading her around the room. One of the reasons she chose me was because I was taller than her, there was no chance that of being her partner now that I was shorter than her and a girl.

"So, have you found another partner yet?" I asked her, trying to hide my disappointment and doing a better job than hiding my boobs.

"Yeah," she confessed, "Melissa pulled out the other day, so I asked Sobey."

Trent Sobey, or Sobey as he was known, was the complete antithesis of me. Where I liked discussing movies at lunch, he preferred to spend his lunch times hitting cricket balls in the cricket nets. I liked school and most of my teachers, he was once suspended for swearing at a teacher. I tutored kids after school, he made the Year 8s buy his lunch at the canteen for him. I was a bit of a push over, he was a bit of a dickhead. Yet Holly was as good friends with him as she was with me. I never understood it. I know it was a bit childish to consider someone your mortal enemy but Trent Sobey was my mortal enemy. Although, he was probably not aware of this arrangement.

"Oh great! He'll scrub up well!" I said through the cracks of the forced smile I wore.

"Everyone at school reckons you should totally still do the Deb!" Holly grinned, "It would be such a cool message to put out there! You know, 'Nothing is going to stop me from enjoying life' sort of thing. You'd look real pretty." She was actually putting this forward as an actual suggestion. Was she as deluded as Mum? Didn't she know the only reason I did the Deb was to get to hold her close?

I set my position on doing the Deb, "No, I don't think that'll be happening."

The conversation clumsily wound down and the second time Holly mentioned the hospital food I knew it was time to call it a night. But, I didn't have to do the yawn as Nurse O'Neill returned as promised to remove them. I watched the girls walk away, watching their cute bums sway almost in synchronization. It was annoyingly unapparent to me if I enjoyed the sight or not. I had tried a few sneaky glances at Holly's breasts during the conversation to see if my libido was still working. The results remained inconclusive. "Sleep tight!" the girls called out to me and they slid the door behind them closed.

Visiting hours were over, and like a rare panda in a zoo that had been studied and stared at all day; I was free to ponder what it was like to be so special. Sure, I knew that I was only one of two people in the entire country who had miraculously a change of gender, and that was very special. I went to brush my teeth and prepare for bed. 'Gemma' greeted me in the mirror. Even looking sleepy, with my hair mussed up, I still looked 'cute'. I coated my toothbrush bristles liberally in paste and ran it under the tap. Even though today was the weirdest day I have ever had in my life there was still time for good oral hygiene. Even though these weren't my usual teeth, I made a promise to them I would look after them as well as my old teeth.

After finishing my business in the bathroom, I climbed into bed. The nights in the hospital were cold, the roar of the air-conditioning wasn't calming in the slightest. If I was any less tired I would have had problems falling asleep. A problem that I did have was finding a comfortable way to lie. Having two large fatty deposits rolling around atop my rib cage made it tricky to find a relaxing position. I used to lustfully admire a busty girl, thinking her to be a dream girl. Perhaps, this was some sort of weird punishment for my wayward thoughts? It did seem to be slightly karmic. I laid on my side, finding that to be the most comfy, plugged in my iPod and kept completely still until sleep took hold.

Since I had spent most of the day comatose, I did not have 8 hours of sleep in me. I woke up, checked to see if this was all a horrible dream and then looked at the clock on my iPod. It was a little past 2am, and Regina Spektor sung about why she loved New York. My new fingers fiddled with the iPod and she abruptly stopped singing and the rumble of the air-conditioning keeping the old folks cool serenaded me once again. I closed my eyes and just listened to the world. It's something I have always loved to do at night, whether on camp in the bush or at home listening to the rain fall on our flat tin roof. From the other side of the door I heard voices. "Is that where they are keeping him…her….umm, it?" said a shrill woman.

"Yeah, but only those Sydney Docs and Lesley and Hannah that new girl, it's no go for everyone else," replied another equally shrill woman.

"I heard it's leaving tomorrow."

"Yeah, then we'll all get to see the final product."

"Lesley says it has boobs the size of watermelons! Real massive ones!"

"Lucky girl! How old is it?"

"17, just a kid."

"Perfect slut age!"

"Oh you're horrible! C'mon on, let's get back to the station."

I cried myself back to sleep.

CHAPTER 9

Friday was the big day, the day I was going to be finally released out of the hospital and into the big world. I was anxious to get outside and a lot of people were waiting. I wouldn't call what I was feel 'excited' because there was a little too much dread in the mix. I awoke early and stumbled into the bathroom to prepare myself. First thing first, I grabbed my little toothbrush and brushed my teeth. I gave myself a cheeky a grin, in an effort to keep my spirits up. Next I sat on the toilet, leaned forward a bit and peed. The tinkle sound and feeling stopped and I mopped myself up. To finish up my morning ritual I had to have a shower.

Since my tracksuit pants and underpants were already on the floor, I kicked them off and peeled off my T-shirt. I looked in the mirror and two words came into mind to help solve my two biggest problems: Breast reduction. At they moment my large, perky friends were the centrepiece of my entire body. Sure, I had a cute smile, but look at those funbags! Sure, she was trim but check out the size of those bazookas! Not that I truly wanted anyone to find me attractive to be honest. Mum had often talked about getting hers reduced because of her back pain and Nicole had admitted that she would trade hers in for a smaller pair when she turned 40. I thought I must avoid the 23-year wait and get mine done sooner.

They were very impressive, mind you, like two giant beacons of femininity standing proud upon my chest. There was no hint of sag, and nor should there be considering they were less than a full day old, and most of the day I spent lying down. If I was still male they would have transfixed me. I meekly squeezed them together with my hands and investigated the feelings I could receive from them. My nipples felt hypersensitive to my touch. Cheekily, I traced my finger around the outside of my nipples around the goosebumpy part. It caused me to shiver. And not necessarily in a bad way.

Remembering I was neglecting my showering duties, I turned the tap. Since this was a wheelchair patient accessible shower I made sure my clothes were out of the shower's path. Again I abused the hot water service, relishing the feeling of a good shower longer than you should in a sunburnt country. Despite having all sorts of new body parts to play with I kept my hands to myself, or more accurately away from myself. In a small, thin walled house, the shower was the perfect place for a teenage boy to masturbate. I was allowed to be naked, I love the feeling of hot water all over my body and the sound of running water would mask the tell tale sounds. But I wasn't even entertaining the thought of introducing my new body to self-love. My pussy still sickened me, in as much as the thought of those delicate folds between my legs made me dry wretch. And wanking is very tricky when your own genitals repulse you.

So apart from rubbing in the shower scrub and shaving my armpits (following a direct order from my Mum), my hands were strangers to my new body. After I had used the equivalent of a month's drinking water for an entire village I turned off the shower. The hospitals towels were scratchy and threadbare so it was tricky trying to get dry. I towelled off my back and watched my boobs wobble in the mirror. There was no way known I was ever going to get used to this.

The clothes Annette and Tyler (what a weird combination of two of the new people in my life!) had picked out for me were left in the room. Not wanting to get dressed again and walk to 4 steps to the bag only to turn around come back in here, undress and redress again in my new clothes, I decided on a plan. I wrapped the hospital towel around my body and tucked the end in making a makeshift cover. I had seen Nicole do it when she ran to answer her mobile phone now and again and the idea seems to have worked in this case as well. I was proud of my MacGyver style ingenuity. My bare feet stepped into the room and I was glad for my towel attire.

"Oh Gemma!" said Tyler Perry, sounding slightly embarrassed. He turned away in modesty. The stunned TV crew did not do the same. "I thought you were out with Dr. Chisholm!" I ran back into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving it slightly ajar to speak.

"Uhh…no. I just got out of the shower."

"I guessed that. The camera crew are here."

Did he think I was blind? "I guessed that too!"

He shouted to me through the door, "Well, we'll just come back in a few minutes."

"OK." I waited until I heard the door slide closed behind him and hopped out grabbed the bag and darted back in.

I was interested/terrified to see what Tyler and Annette had picked for me. One was my psychologist, the other was a Public Relations expert, so it would be a weird mix of what she thought would be healthy on me and what he thought I would look good in. I pulled out a pair of dark blue jeans out first. Jeans, the perfect equalizer. Almost everyone wears jeans, and I think a healthy choice between the not too girly and the presentable. But before I attempted putting on the jeans I had to put on the underwear. Luckily to avoid my humiliation they were just simple white cotton ones, like the ones I have already been wearing. I tugged them up over my legs and let them slide into place. My groin was flat, with the faint outline of lips of my vagina. There was no doubt in my mind that every last atom of masculinity had been torn from this body. It was a little sad.

The jeans I was putting up a little bit of a fight. I used to love a girl wearing snug jeans but now I have learnt that that is an unfair social double standard. I learned that as I was jumping up and down, trying to squeeze into them. On the third jump, they were sufficiently on, so I zipped up the fly and did up the button. Looking objectively at them, they did make my legs look quite sexy and gave my bum a little bit more definition. They were not the low riding style that some of the girls at school would wear, luckily. But they weren't unfashionable jeans, which means for girls there was an element of snugness. Laughingly, there was a belt in the bag. There was no chance these jeans were coming down. But I assume it was supposed to be decretive, Girls' clothes were a weird combination of the vitally practical and mindlessly decretive. I tugged the belt through the loops on my jeans and made sure it was done up properly.

Let me get this straight. I had never put on or taken off a bra before. Looking the way I do, if I had told you that you wouldn't have believed me. I had never touched one on a girl, or maybe even touched one at all. In fact holding this plain cotton one in my hands seemed like quite a momentous occasion. I had the 'boulders' and this was my 'boulder holder'. Wearing this would be an admission that I was a girl. I looked at the mirror and thought if I didn't admit I was in a girl's body I'd be an idiot. There was simply no fooling anyone, this was a girl's body. So, much to my own disgust I slid my arms into the armholes.

Off of my body, the cups looked huge, two deep cavernous bowls of white cotton. Amazingly I filled them, with boob to spare. This was scary. I hadn't been given the chance to slowly grow, unlike 'normal' girls I had gone from nought to a D cup in a matter of days. The next challenge of putting on the bra was hooking it up in the back. This was a tricky job, which seemed to be designed for people with two elbows on each arm. Using the mirror as my guide did help a minor fractions. It all seemed to fiddley. Were bra manufacturers unaware of Velcro or other technology? Off the top of my head I could've thought of 10 easier ways to fasten bras! These tiny hooks would be the death of me.

Although, I must admit that when the bra was on, it did feel helpful. I didn't feel so 'top-heavy' anymore. And it did reduce the jiggling and jostling coming from my breasts. The cups pf the bra didn't completely cover the entire bust, instead it stopped a little past half way up and also brought each breast closer together that created some rather impressive cleavage. On anyone else; it would have been a wonderful sight, on me; it made me a little sick.

I moved on to the pressing issue of what was going to cover this bra. It was a baby blue tank top, something that could easily been seen by any girl walking around town. I guess there were going for a very casual look for me. Like talking to a massive crowd about my recent sex change was a weekly activity for me. I shouldn't ridicule them, because I had no better ideas. The top was made of the clingy material that hugged my new curves a little too snugly for my liking. Another thing I didn't like was the spaghetti straps holding it up were so thin that you could see my bra straps as well and that if I bent down you could see a fair bit of cleavage. But the bag didn't seem to have any alternatives so beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

To wear on my feet, I had a pair of sandals. Nice, casual, brown leather sandals. I slipped them easily onto my new smaller feet. My toes seemed so small, even my big toe. On my old feet my big toe used to dominate the foot, like a troublesome dictator. It wasn't a dictator anymore, it was more like its companions, just a little wider. Also in the bag was a pair of sunglasses, the big type that girls my age like to wear. I always hated them. I thought they looked silly. But when in Rome, or should I say; when forced into a body of a Roman… The glare in the bathroom was suddenly reduced as I slid my brand new glasses on. I was right, I did look stupid so I took them off and tucked them into me jeans' pocket.

I looked in the mirror and it told me I was dressed like any girl around town, off to the beach or the shopping centre or lazy about the house. It made me feel less of a freak and more of a brain in a wrong body. It wasn't the body that was weird, it was a perfectly normal body. In fact, it was a very pretty body. The problem lay in the fact that I was inside it.

A polite rap at the door made me alert to the fact that I wasn't the only person in the entire world, a fact I would have to remind myself of now and again. "Yes?" I asked.

"It's Mum, sweetie!"

"Hi Mum."

"You finished dressing?"

"I guess so," I answered, although I didn't feel particularly dressed. My preferences would have included a big heavy winter coat and a balaclava despite it being quite a hot summer's day.

"Do you want to come out and show your Mummy?" Mum was sounding weird, there had to be an explanation for it.

"Is the camera crew out there?"

"Yes."

"Oh… OK." Thought so.

I slowly pulled the door towards me and trotted out to greet my Mum and the three-person strong crew and Tyler. I glanced nervously at the direction of the camera and gave a half smile. "Oh wow, Gemma! You look great!" Being called 'Gemma' by my Mum still sounded weird. She usually called 'Mikey' or 'Sweetie' or 'Michael William Taylor' when I'm in trouble. Maybe Tyler had told her to use my new name. Nobody ever acts normal in front of a camera crew, especially someone as image conscious as my Mum. "Do a spin for us, love," instructed my mother. Like a good girl I did as I was told, feeling not only the eyes of the camera crew all over my body but the eyes of the entire country when they show this footage on TV.

"Looking good," my Mum cheerfully said.

"Thanks," I mumbled so quietly that the boom mic operator lowered his mic lower in an effort not to lose anymore of my riveting comments. "You ready to make your speech?"

"I should be OK, Mum." It was weird trying to act natural when there are three strange men hovering over you, I felt a little stilted in my performance, but Tyler was grinning like I was giving an Oscar-award winning performance. "You really need some jewellery or something, Gem," suggested Mum as she looked my up and down, "You just look a bit naked." There was no way I was going to put on jewellery. I wasn't about to punch some holes in my ears just to appease a fussy parent. "What do you think, Tyler?" Mum asked Tyler.

"Umm… I think she looks great."

"Hmm… A bangle or something wouldn't go astray I think, Gemma." I suddenly remembered the discarded gift I had beside my bed. I walked over to it and showed Mum.

"Will this do?" I asked Mum, holding up Dot's locket.

"Perfect," she smiled. I turned around and she clasped it to my neck. The locket rested gently just below my collarbone and just above my cleavage. A mother helping her new daughter put on a necklace would make for heart-wrenching TV, I thought. Tyler must have thought it was enough too, as he told the cameramen that that would be enough. They turned off their equipment and said bye as they went in the corridor.

"That felt weird," I confessed as I sat down on my bed and grabbed for my diary. I flicked to the back, where the speech was scrawled out in my new, slightly different handwriting. It was amazing to realize how many changes there was, my eyesight, pronunciation, sense of taste, everything down to my handwriting was slightly different.

"Sorry about that, guys," Tyler said, "Having someone pointing a huge camera at you first thing in the morning can be a little disconcerting. The main thing is, not to fret. Just be yourselves."
"Just be yourself," Mum repeated the instruction to herself.

As the words I had wrote for my speech rolled around my brain, I kinda was dreading the press conference. I was so unsure of who I actually was it was tricky to write a speech saying my thoughts and feelings. Was I Gemma or Michael pretending to be a girl called Gemma? I was pretty sure it was the latter but not 100% sure anymore. Tyler, looking as sharp as usual in a light purple shirt and black pants, must have sensed I was feeling worried. "You OK, kid?"

"I'm just a bit nervous, that's all. It's going to be a lot of people."

"Don't worry about that. As long as you get your message across you should be great. Just out of curiosity can I have a look at your speech?" I thought for a second, it seemed like a good idea I let someone look over it before going presenting it to the entire country. The words I was about to say will be heard by more people than anything I've said before, so it was important that they weren't completely daft. "Knock yourself out," I said handing him the diary.

Tyler read my speech quietly as Mum fussed over me. "You do really look quite nice, Gem."

"Thanks, I guess," I said, resigned to all comments about my good looks. I was going to get sick of them, but as long I remained a cute, fit teenage girl I'm sure they would come flooding in. She rummaged through her handbag and triumphantly grunted when she found what she was looking for.

"Would you mind if I shaped your eyebrows a little?" Mum asked as she held a pair of tweezers in her hands.

"Why?" I asked her, defensively. It looked like it was going to be a little painful and I avoided pain whenever I could. The determination in her hands told me that I couldn't avoid this pain.

"Your eyebrows just need feminising." As if I hadn't gone through enough feminising already. I looked at my Mum's eyebrows, they looked like they were drawn on with a pencil, but Mum wasn't going to take 'No fucking way' for an answer.

"Shit!" I screamed as she started on my second eyebrow. The first one had hurt enough and I did't think I had a second one in me. Mum sounded frustrated with my curses and fidgeting when she said,

"Oh hush! You're bloody half way now." I made my Mum hold up a mirror so I could see that she wasn't doing it too thin. I hated to admit it but it was making me that little bit cuter, something I was slightly adverse to.

"Gemma," Tyler spoke up, "This is a great speech. It's really going to go down a treat with everyone."

"Well, back when she was a boy, Gemma was a part of a debating team that won best overall debating team in the Marrang Eisteddfod," Mum gushed as she yanked some of my right eyebrow out.

"You don't have to say 'back when she was a boy'," ...I complained, "In fact I'd love it if you never used that term again, thank you very much." I was often annoyed at my mother, but I guess the fact she was pulling hair out of my face one by one wasn't helping my temperament.

"Sorry," Mum said and she actually looked sorry.

Dr. Chisholm came into the room as well. He smiled warmly as he saw me. "Good morning all!" he called out, sounding cheerful, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm OK," I said, "Healthy, just worried about this morning."

"You must be happy that your stay at the hospital is over?" That was a good point, I could finally go back home, play on my computer, go swimming at the beach, hang out with my friends without them being searched by security personnel. It would feel good to see natural sunlight again. I told Dr. Chisholm I was looking forward to leaving. "Well, we're all going to miss you."

"You're not leaving are you?"

"Eventually, but Annette and I am going to make sure you're doing well in the real world before we jet off. Dr. Nagra and Jensen will leave tomorrow." I like Dr. Nagra so it would be sad to see him go, Dr. Jensen on the other hand I always thought was scared of me and never said much to me at all.

I wasn't relishing the idea of the daily visits from Annette though. I knew I was a girl and both Nicole and Mum had a lot of experience at being ones themselves so I'm sure they could help me when problems arise. But there was no getting around it I guess. Speaking of the devil, Annette came into the room. She crept in slightly sheepishly, sporting her black eye that I had inadvertently had given her. I suddenly felt a touch guilty, "Hi Annette. I am so sorry about your eye. I feel terrible." She smiled an actual smile, not one of the ones she would plaster on to talk 'girl talk' with me. It made her seem prettier.

"That's OK, Gemma. You didn't mean it." Maybe not, but I would have done it again, given a choice.

The TV crew came into the room as well, completely filling my little hospital room. They told everyone to act naturally and we all tried to go about our business as natural as possible. Luckily for Dr. Chisholm he was already so stiff and awkward that even if he was acting normal he seemed exactly the same. Mum talked business with Dr. Chisholm and Tyler, while Annette sat on the bed beside me and began to talk to me.

Annette proceeded to give me advice on today's events, and today I did the decent thing by actually listening to her. I told her I was a little nervous about my speech. "Now that's perfectly normal. I still get nervous when making presentations," Annette nudged her glasses a little higher on her nose, "Would you like me to teach you some deep breathing exercises? They are very good for relieving stress." Partly to humour her and partly to actually control the butterflies in my stomach I agreed. Under her command, I took very deep breaths, held them and expelled them. Every time I took a really deep breath my cleavage would swallow my locket as my breasts rose up. I laughed a little at my predicament and Annette gave me a stern look.

Now that I was fully calm and everyone else was ready we could finally leave the hospital and go outside for my press conference. It was strange to walk past Dr. Chisholm's examination room and keep going. I almost waved goodbye to it, until I remembered I had a camera crew following so I had to act troubled and serious. I wondered if the cameramen would even notice me waving, because I had a sneaky suspicion they were focussing primarily on my arse.

Past Dr. Chisholm's and the myriad of waiting rooms I was put into on my first day. Past Nurse O'Neill at her Nurses' Station. "Good luck, Miss Taylor!" she called out, flashing a smile. Past the old people dying and the babies living. Past reception and the front door. Jets of sunshine poured onto my face and I gasped in relief. The sun was beautifully bright and reenergized me with a warm sense of power. It was like the sun had been waiting for me and tried to make up for the fact we hadn't seen each other in 2 days.

But the sun wasn't the only thing waiting for me outside. A phalanx of photographers and journalists popped up all over as if they were rocket-powered spring-loaded. The quiet echo of the hospital halls melted into the shouting and clicking of just outside the hospital entrance. I suddenly became very aware of how much shorter I was now, as photographers towered over me. Tyler walked in front of me trying to keep the press from crowding me too much. If this is what being a celebrity is like, I didn't like it. They kept calling my name out, trying to get me to look at them. I guessed it worked because I looked around wildly, trying to hide my fear inside a shy smile.

My flirt with sunshine and the paparazzi was brief. We crossed the road and entered a tent in the Botanical gardens within a few seconds. The tent was pretty bare, some outside furniture and some electronic equipment and that's about all. "Welcome to the backstage area," announced Tyler, "It's not much, but it'll shield you until it's time to bring you out onstage. Would you like some water?" I nodded and Tyler handed me a bottle. It was just Tyler, Mum and me in the tent.

"I might go and watch you with Nicole," Mum said, giving me a kiss on my cheek, "Good luck, honey." Then it was just Tyler and me in the tent. He ran a hand through his hair and said,

"Well, let's get things started, shall we? Gemma, if you wait by the curtain you'll hear me calling you to stage." With that he disappeared behind the curtain.

I could only hear muffled voices through the tent. But I heard Tyler welcome the press and talk a bit about the history of SGR. He urged the press not to use the term Pussy Envy, which I thought was a nice thought to include. He then talked to the gathered audience a bit about my history and the electronic pulse procedure that was used for the 3rd time in the world. I discovered things I didn't even know about a SGR and the electronic pulse technique. "…and ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to introduce the world to Gemma Mae Taylor."

Gemma Mae Taylor? Shit! That's me! I grabbed at my diary and scrambled up the stairs to the stage. At the top of the stairs an ocean of people confronted me. Not just a sea of people but a vast ocean. And a lot of those people had cameras. Cameras that were there to show a lot of other people what I was about to say. "Keep your composure, stand up straight, don't rush," I told myself as I walked to the microphones. I took a deep breath and flipped open my diary. Not knowing my own strength it went tumbling out of my hands and onto the floor. Nice work, dickhead! I quickly bent down to pick it up. Then remembered my trails in the bathroom, as I squatted there, picking up my diary, the ocean of people and their cameras could see straight down my top! I blushed a deep red, stood up and looked down at my notes.

I was about to confront the world. On Monday the ocean of people didn't know or care about me. I was just a regular guy living out my regular life, I could have lived out my life without an ocean of people caring about me, most people do. But something happened to me that made these fine people and the thousands of people they wanted to show me off to stand up and notice me. I was special. More to the point, I found my self in a special situation.

I cleared my throat but a cute cough sound came out, hardly the authoritarian command I was looking for. "Hi," I began, "My name is Gemma Taylor and I know a lot of you have been waiting for a long time to see me. Thank you for your patience. This last week for me has been a total roller coaster, like you could never imagine." I looked out over the crowd, they all stared back at me, hanging on my every word. "Being a teenager can be tough, it's the time where you learn who you are and who you want to become and how the world treats you. Just as I thought I had it all figured out something came along to change who I was. I knew how to be Michael Taylor, he was a 17-year-old dork who liked musicals and was nervous talking to cute girls. I'm not sure how to be Gemma, a girl cute enough for me to be nervous around." The audience politely chuckled.

"And on top of that, I am also a national celebrity, with millions of people wanting to know more about me. But the truth is, I don't know a lot about myself yet. So I ask you for some privacy while I find out exactly who I am, please. If you keep this relationship friendly, so will I." As I smiled to the audience, I actually began to enjoy all the attention. "I'd like to thank Dr. Chisholm, Dr. Nagra and their crew for all their heartfelt work and for looking at me more as a person than a unique science experiment. I would like to thank my Mum and sister and all my friends for all their support. And all of the public who have sent me cards and gifts. This period of time for me has been real tough for me and I'm sure the next couple of months will not be a walk in the park. It's only now I can begin to comprehend what John Draffen must have been going through. Sadly, John did not have the luxury of the transition being as slow, painless and private as mine was." I seriously hoped John was watching this. I had thought about the terror he must have gone through a lot while alone in my hospital room.

"But like John I will be strong and confident and I will not let this occurrence stop me from achieving my dreams." My voice crackled a little bit as I held back some tears. "At this point, I was going to ask you to donate some money to help find a cure for Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration but there are a lot of worse things out there. If the Doctor said 'Michael, you have cancer,' I would be suffering alone in the hospital now instead of having all of Australia hanging onto my every word. It could have been MS or Parkinson's disease or Muscular Dystrophy. Growing a vagina and big boobs," I gestured to the boobs just in case people couldn't see them, "is scary but nothing about becoming a woman can stand in the way of me living a great life. So I ask you not to donate a lot of money to cure this bizarre disease that has only affected two Australians so far. But I ask you to look around your own communities and discover the real problems and help fix those. I'm going to be just fine. Thank you."

The crowd cheered and clapped and I blushed once more. It felt to get that off my chest, although there were other things I would quite like to remove from my chest but all in good time. I was about to bow when I remember the view while I picked up my diary. From side stage my Mum and Nicole came running onto stage and hugged me, which made me cry. "I love you guys," I gasped between sobs. It was slightly embarrassing to be having such a private moment in front of the entire country but I guess it made good TV. It was one of the most surreal moments in my life but I knew that it wouldn't be long before being trumped.

The clapping subsided as Tyler approached the microphone. "Thank you Gemma, thank you very much. Now Gemma has agreed to answer 3 or 4 questions. Is that still OK, Gemma?" I dizzily nodded. At my affirmation, I heard the sound of 1,000 hands simultaneously going up. I approached the microphones as Tyler took a cordless mic into the crowd.

"That's a very nice name, Gemma. Can you tell us why you chose it?" Not exactly the hardball question I was expecting. "Well, me and my friends got out a big baby name book and we poured over it for hours. I almost named myself Lucy but then I figured out that parents usually name their children and Mum said that if I was born a girl she would have called me Gemma," Mum, still on stage gave a big wave to the audience, "I really liked it, so I kept it."

Tyler scurried around the crowd, darting past questions left and right. I wonder what his selection criteria were. "Hi Gemma, Laura Ruby from 3AW here. Was the transformation actually painless?"

"Well, it was a mite painful now and again, I don't know how one could completely change shape without a little bit of pain. But all the medical staff were very knowledgeable and I'm pretty sure the pain I felt was nothing compared to those who have to go through the transformation without the electronic pulse procedure."

"Can you tell us you plans for the future?"

"Well, learn to be a girl, go back to school, finish my VCE, go to university and from then on I don't know."

"Do you plan on having a family?" asked the same person.

"Whoa! One step at a time!"

"So, Gemma," asked a journalist, "Which do you like more: being a girl or a boy?"

"Boy," I said without pausing for a second, which made some of the audience laugh. I decided I needed to clarify my answer before the members of my new gender were offended, "But I'm not writing off being a girl, I'm sure it has some advantages. At least I can get some one to buy me drinks now."

Mum leaned into the microphones and said, "When you turn 18…"

"Yes, when I turn 18." The audience seemed to like our comedy double act.

"OK, last question," promised Tyler as he handed the microphone to somebody else.

"What," began the journalist, "would you say to Mr. Draffen if he was here?" I actually had to think about that answer.

What would I like to say to the only other person in this country who I have this bizarre thing in common with, "Ummm… I guess I would say, 'Hi. It's a strange world, huh?'" Tyler thanked everyone for coming and whisked me offstage into the tent. It was there he gave me a massive bear hug, which threatened to squish my boobs forever.

"I'm so proud of you, Gemma. Really good job! Really good!" Frankly, it was a weird outburst from the usually cool Tyler Perry. I was too surprised to hug him back, "Thanks for everything, Tyler."

The very nice car sped into the distance mere seconds after I got off stage. Inside was Nicole, Mum, Tyler and me. Tyler was going to drop us home and then return to deal with all the other press things. There was a buzz in the air and I couldn't help but put on the sunglasses that I had tucked into my jeans, playing the part of the celebrity. "You did so good," Nicole reviewed me, "Everyone was fucking loving it! And you looked so hot doing it!" Nicole had different review criteria than me for 'hot' but I was happy that she was proud.

"You are such the little star!" Mum agreed, "When you were saying that people should support other medical problems, there wasn't a dry eye in the house!"

"That was a nice thing for you to say," Tyler added. And for once I felt remarkable for something I did, rather than what had happened to me.

****

Hi, the author here. Thanks so much for reading so far. If you want you can send me an email at [email protected] Thanks so much.

Kate Draffen (Chapters 10-17)

By Swishy
Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

These are the next 8 chapters of Gemma's story.

*****

CHAPTER 10

It was very nice to smell home again. You know how your house has a distinctive smell? Everyone's house has one. You don't really notice it until you've been away for a while and then it greets you like a family pet, happily waiting for you at the front door. I wrinkled my cute little nose up as I drew in a huge whiff of the old house.

"It's good to be home!" I sighed loudly. I was perhaps overreacting because I had really only been away for two nights, on top of that I was only less than 5 kilometres down the road.

It might have been good to be home but it was a little disconcerting too. It was a familiar place and thus I finally noticed how weird it was to be so much shorter. It was like the reverse of the feeling you get from going back to your primary school fully grown. The chairs, tables and everything around me now felt so big. Jesus Christ, I was a midget! Well, maybe I was being a touch dramatic but I was quite small, 5'4 in the old language. I would now have to get the portable step if I wanted something out of the top cupboard, like Mum and Nicole. Curse my tiny body!

I kicked off my sandals and wondered what to do next. No idea popped into my head. My biggest hurdle had been getting out of the hospital and now I was free I had no idea what to do with the rest of my day, or tomorrow, or next week. I knew I was expected to go back to school at some point but I was sure nobody was going to rush me. Which was good as since going back to school would be my next big hurdle. I thought I would take my time going back to school.

"What now?" I asked Mum.

"Lunch?" Mum replied.

"Nah, not yet. Not that hungry."

"Wow! You have changed!"

Mum teased me about my 'bottomless stomach' when I was male.

"Well, if you are interested, you could have a look at these…" my mother swung open the TV room door and a treasure trove of cards, flowers and presents awaited me. It was way bigger than Christmas and probably bigger than all my previous Christmases combined.

"Who are all these for?"

"Michael and Gemma," Mum teased, "But don't you two fight over who gets what!"

"Can I help you open 'em?" asked Nicole, her eyes as wide as plates.

"I guess so," I said so as I went inside and sat on the couch.

There were a lot of cards to get through. Some from my friends at school, some from people I barely knew and even more from complete strangers. Most people went for the 'Get Well Soon' which seemed to be the right choice of card, although a guy I barely know from school sent an 'It's a girl' and Nicole actually found a condolences card. Most of them were short but very sweet messages of hope directed to me. Some had money in them, some had gift vouchers to clothes stores and other places. I guess people weren't aware that I was now comfortably well off, thanks to the price some others will pay to know more about my story.

But not all of them were nice.

Nicole found the first one. Normally after each card she would say,
"Awww, that's sweet," or
"Yay! Another gift voucher!"
I knew this time was different when she scrunched the letter up and threw it.
"Fucking losers!" didn't sound as complimentary as her other comments either.

"What was that?" I asked.

"Some religious fuckwit who says that you are a poof getting your just desserts."

It never dawned on me that some people wouldn't be on my side. I had never seen this body as an affront to God - an affront to me, sure, but not God. I was not at all religious but I wanted to see if I could see their side of things. After a little bit of thought, I could understand why they'd be upset; some people were using technology to thwart the choices of God, but I wasn't the perpetrator, I was the victim! So I decided not to go and get upset about it.

That wasn't the only weird letter I received. Some weird guys wrote of how jealous they were of me. One guy requested my first pair of panties to be sent to him. One of the packages contained a vibrator and a brand new digital camera with a request to 'Please enjoy and show me how much you enjoyed'. All this stuff had arrived before the public had even seen me. I could imagine how the big pile of letters was going to be over the next couple of days. I tried to laugh off most of the letters. But after one too many scary-weird ones, I went to my room to have a cry.

Crying was just another part of the day for me, these days.
I'm pretty sure I could blame it on being a girl but I don't think that was the case.
I could just as easily see myself being male and crying more if Mum or Nicole had died. I'm fairly certain being a girl was what was upsetting me. I didn't like all the attention, I didn't like how it was complicating things with all my friends and I didn't like being in this body. Sure, my last body wasn't perfect and a lot more people would call this new body a step up but I still really liked my old body.

Mum knocked on the door, so I rescheduled the rest of the crying session until later.

"Want some lunch, Gem?"

"That would be great," I said trying to sound like I hadn't been crying.

Mum carried in a plate with two rounds of BBQ chicken sandwiches, my favourite. I rubbed my red eyes and took the plate.

"Ta Mum."

Mum sat down alongside me on the bed and took a deep breath. I knew she was trying to think of something to say. The last few days had been so weird and the conversations had all been about the dramatic events in my life. I sensed that Mum just wanted this talk to be about anything but the change. I started to hoe into the sandwiches while Mum wondered what to talk to her new daughter about.

Mum glanced around at my room, "I guess you'll be taking down those girly posters, huh?"

I was wrong, Mum didn't want to avoid about my recent change, she just wanted to work up the confidence to ask me about my sexuality, a tough topic for any mother to broach with her daughter let alone a daughter who was only 2 days old, fresh out of the hospital.

I looked at Jessica Alba, Keeley Hazell and Krystal Forscutt staring back at me sensually. Oddly, I felt… nothing. No wanton desire, no yearning, no disgust, no jealousy… nothing at all. By contrast I pictured a handsome guy, muscly, naked and well endowed… also nothing. Maybe SGR had made me asexual. That fate may be better than developing a love for burying penises deep inside me.

"I don't know," I sighed, a non-committal sigh, "I'm not ready to take them down just yet. But I don't really mind."

By using the topic of posters I believe we had successfully held a conversation about my sexuality. Embarrassment averted!

But not for too long.

"So how do you like your giant boobs?" Fantastic! I thought we had a nice little code to talk about embarrassing things and she had to go and ruin it! My face grew red and I stammered out my answer, "Umm.. they're big and I keep bumping them with my hands. Is 17 too young for a breast reduction?"

"Oh come off it! You've got plenty of time to enjoy them before they'll start hurting your back. Live a little and show them off!"

She stared down at my cleavage, "They are so perky, Gem. Mine didn't get that big until I was preggers with Nicky and they really start to sag after childbirth."

The thought of childbirth was not one I was entertaining nor did I want to hear about the state of my Mum's breasts, I was having enough problems getting over my own.

"The bra strap is digging into me."

"You'll get used to it," she said in a world-weary voice.

"Not if I get a reduction," I hinted, "We can certainly afford it now. I probably have enough Just Jeans vouchers out there to get one!"

Mum only smiled at the joke.

"Well, since you're only 17 you'll have to wait at least a year because I am not going to sign for one. And I'm pretty sure Annette and Dr. Chisholm would be against it."

"But it's my body," I argued.

"Barely," she retorted, "You've scarcely had 'em 24 hours and you want to lop them off? Live with them, they are part of you. And when you get your sexuality back in whatever form it comes back, I'm sure you'll learn to love 'em. I love mine, I can't tell you how many times they've helped me out of many a jam."

"Jam?"

"Yeah, speed fines ripped up, served faster at stores and bars. You'll have men falling over themselves to help ya. You've just received a treasured family gift."

With comments like that you just have to laugh, so I did.

Nicole was still opening my 'fan mail' after my beyond awkward talk with Mum.

"You're a rich girl now, Gemma!" my sister called from the TV room.

"How much?" I asked curiously.

"Over two grand in cash!"

"Awesome!"

"You've got a bunch or cheques and gift vouchers too!"

"Take a few for yourself."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You're the fucking best, little sis!"

'Little sis' was something I was going to have to learn to get used to so I didn't comment on it.

With my mood already on the depressed side of things I was not looking forward to Annette's visit. She sat me down at the kitchen table so we could have a 'girl talk', although she was much too professional to call it that.

"This is a lovely house."

She chewed demurely on an apple I had offered her and began the work of checking up on me.

"So Gemma," she said, "How is everything?"

It was the kind of open-ended question she often opened with, one I would never honestly answer and she knew it. Why she kept it up I'll never know.

"Fine," I responded flatly, while resting my head on my hand and my elbow on the table.

At least I knew she wasn't going to jump headlong into a conversation about my 'giant boobs'.

"Today was a big day for you. How do you feel about the press conference?"

"It was OK, very scary."

I thought I would throw her a bone.

"Why was it very scary?" she asked.

"Well, there was so many people watching me and this was the first time I had gone outside looking like this,"

I gestured to my body, a body that I was stuck in.

"I think you did wonderfully, Gemma. So many people came up to me and told me how well you spoke."

Why random people were coming up to Dr. Annette Fischer to give her compliments about me I'll never know.

"Thanks for picking the clothes too. They are nice."

"Thank you Gemma. I was pretty certain you didn't want a skirt or anything like that."

"You're smarter than you look."

She laughed at my comment, but a laugh that sounded like 'I'm doing this to humour you and to show you I am a good sport'.

She handed me a blank piece of paper and a pen.

"Today I want to try one or two exercises with you," she addressed me as if I was a kindergarten class,

"First off I am going to give you a minute to write down all the things that you wanted to achieve in life as a guy that you still can achieve as a girl."

I could see what the point of this exercise was from the outset but not wanting to cause her any more grief I complied. It was reassuring that I was still left-handed, supposedly only 1 in 10 people are left-handed and it would have really thrown me out of whack if I had to start writing with my right hand. I leant over the kitchen table to scribble away and laid my elbow on the table but unnervingly my hefty boobs also rested on the table. I would have to learn to not hunch over as much when I wrote, another thing to add to the list.

-Graduate High School
-Graduate Uni
-Get a good job
-Travel

It was about there I was stumped. Those four things sounded fine, but a good life is made up of more than just those four things. I just couldn't think of them, I think they are a lot of small things.

"That's all I could get," I owned up as I slid the relatively blank piece of paper back to her.

She lowered her glasses on her nose and looked over my small list.

"Don't be upset with it. This is a good and concise list. Those are achievable goals for anyone to have and for some one as naturally talented as you, I'm sure you'll be set for life. Now, I want you to write all the things you can't achieve now that you are a girl."

See the point of the exercise was that my list of 'things a girl can't do' would be extremely slim. I saw that going into it. Didn't mean I wasn't going to come up with a few.

Annette furrowed her brow when I returned the paper again.

"I would like to think that your inability to write your name in the snow wouldn't be too devastating."

She was not a jokey person in the slightest.

"And I must correct you, it would still be possible to have a sexual encounter with Jessica Alba."

OK, maybe she had a slight sense of humour.

"Annette, can I ask you some personal things?"

I didn't particularly want an answer from her but I did want one from someone and she was qualified.

"Of course."

"I kinda have no sexual drive at the moment. When is it going to come back? And what is it going to be?"

Trust a teenager to have nothing but sex on their mind, even when they are unable to have sex on their mind.

"It's different among a lot of the cases. Some people's original sexual orientation remains while most of the other cases readjust to their new genders. The fact that you are feeling asexual at the moment means there will be a strong chance you'll start becoming attracted to boys. But as for when, I can't pinpoint an exact time and date. Some have noticed a gradual increase while others have explained it's like a light switch being turned on, completely asexual one minute and attracted to the opposite sex the next. Could happen today, could be as long as a month."

Having the 'light switch' moment with my sexual drive seemed a little scary so I hoped for a 'smooth transition' into my new sexuality. Actually, I hoped for a return to my old sexuality. I liked being turned on by giggles, little skirts, curves and softness. The idea of being turned on by guys and their angles, hair and hardness seemed a tough job to do.

"What is Draffen's sexual orientation?" I quizzed.

"He struggled with it for a while but John is heterosexual. He was ashamed at first but is slowly learning to enjoy it. Let's just say he has a few magazines under his bed."

I remembered my pile of magazines residing under my bed and was a little sad at its alluded redundancy.

"When your sex drive does return, do not feel ashamed at the prospect of masturbating. It's a perfectly healthy thing to do and a far more safe alternative to sexual intercourse,"

My life was just going to be full of these embarrassing conversations for a while.

"Did you masturbate as a boy?" Annette asked me.

My mind flicked back to the many times I had enjoyed my own company, looking at pics on the net. Pictures of cute girls squeezing their breasts together or joyously sucking on a man's cock. Or other times where I pictured Holly stripping for me.

"Yep," I confessed.

"Well for a guy, masturbating is rather limited to your penis and your hand. For women the process can be as simple as your vagina and your hand but many women use other devices. Like dildos or vibrators."

"Someone sent me one today," I informed Annette, remembering the long chrome shaft in the nice box.

"Who did?"

"Some weirdo who also included a camera. I got a few weird presents."

"Well, I wouldn't use that one just in case. The world is filled with sick people."

That sounded very pessimistic coming from a psychologist.

"I have included quite a good vibrator in the package I brought with me today,"

Wow! Nice work, dowdy Dr. Fischer!

"Along with other girly things: tampons, pads, and other feminine hygiene items."

Oh no! Let's not talk about those things yet!

Annette must have read my mind, "But that's all for another day."

"Now Gemma, I'll be around every day now for the next couple of weeks. Together we're going to be getting you ready for school and making this transition into womanhood a…"

'Smooth' you're going to say 'smooth'.

"…smooth one."

I nodded in agreement. She told me I could call her whenever I wanted day or night and she'd help me through any problem I had. Annette was trying her hardest, I'll give her that. It's just there was a clash of personalities, something very common. I decided to bite my lip and help her a little more. The sooner she deemed me healthy, the soon she could go on her merry way.

There are two types of families in the world: those who watched TV while eating dinner and those who didn't. We watched TV while we ate dinner. I'm sure some families frown on that sort of activity because they enjoy talking, but the fact of the matter is we do a lot of talking, mostly about the TV. Today the news played my speech word for word and I listened to it, cringing at the sound of my new voice. It was so high and girly. I guess I was no longer a bass at choir anymore, I'd be lucky if I was an alto. A lot of commentators had a lot of nice things to say about my speech, calling it 'mature' and 'thoughtful'. The piece ended by saying there would be an exclusive interview with me next Sunday night. Not only was I transformed into a girl and expected to fit in, I now had to compete against 60 minutes too!

I didn't have any visitors that night because we were all going to hang out at the Madsen house tomorrow night, kind of a 'Welcome Home' party for me. We'd do the usual, watch some DVDs, have a few drinks and stay up late. Really just the norm for a Saturday night in February. At the moment I had an itch I couldn't scratch - I desperately wanted to go swimming. It had been almost an entire week since I was last in the sea, before this whole thing began. I had never gone so long without swimming in my entire life. While the urge was there, the bravery was not. I couldn't bring myself to actually strip down and throw myself in the water.

Maybe tomorrow.

The evening was mainly spent by writing in my diary and listening to my iPod. It was the kind of quiet Friday night I liked to have before the change. If I had a tough week there was nothing better than a quiet Friday night, losing my way in my mind. It was my secret escape. This week had been incredibly tough and it was a great relaxant.

I still cried myself to sleep though.

CHAPTER 11

"We brought Burger Rings!" I said through the mesh of security door. Burger Rings had always been my favourite chip-like snack but I resented how everyone else neglected them. The neglect mostly came from people forgetting them, by ignoring the orange bag with black lettering but oddly some people didn't like the taste. These types of people are fools. The way Kev Madsen grimaced at me holding the bag probably meant he was one of those types of people.

"I said you didn't need to worry 'bout getting food. Mum and Dad have left the pantry fairly chockers."

"But she demanded we pick some up," Glen groaned, "Something about 'Lest we forget'."

"I just think Burger Rings are a neglected food stuff," I admitted, swinging the bag like a hypnotist's watch.

Kev opened the door and let Glen, Dot and me into his house.

If you think I sounded a little different, it was because I was feeling a little different. Before I arrived at the Madsen Brothers' house I had downed a few Vodka Cruisers (I know it's a girly drink, but I was drinking them before the change). Mum, in an effort to cheer me up, had bought a dozen for me to share with my friends. While at Dot's house, Glen, Dot and myself had drunk eight between us. While Dot and Glen had only drunk two each, I was currently winning on four. Hence, my mood. I felt buzzed.

"Hi Gemma," Mads said from the couch in his lounge room.

I was amazed no one had slipped up and called me Michael. But in hindsight the reason was apparent. People were as likely to confuse Dot and Glen, as they were to call me Michael. One was a girl and one was a boy, there was no mistaking the two.

"Great speech yesterday!" Mads enthused.

"Thanks, man," I said as I sat next to him on the couch.

"Yeah, me and my mates all YouTubed at lunch time in the library."

"It was on YouTube?" Considering I made the speech at 10am, making it onto YouTube by lunch was quite a feat.

"Yeah," Mads said, "There was several copies of it. I'm sure there is a lot of Net chat about you going on."

I really must Google myself one day.

The lid of the Vodka Cruiser sat beside the other one and kept it company, as I gently tipped the bottle at an angle letting the bright neon liquid pass my lips and into my stomach. This was my sixth of the night. I was enjoying myself. We were all engaged in a game of Scene It, which was a movie trivia board game that comes with a DVD that has movie scenes and questions on it. I don't want to brag, but I was doing pretty well, I like trivia a lot, and movie trivia just happens to be my forte.

"THE BIG LEBOWSKI!!" I screamed as pure excitement propelled me off my chair.

My boobs clattered violently beneath me as I jumped up and down when it was revealed to be the right answer. Tonight, I wore another tank top and another pair of jeans because that's pretty much all I had. The new tank top was bright red with black bands around the top and showed a little more cleavage. The material was a little clingier too but Mum had said that girls' clothes were generally more figure hugging and I would have to get used to it. I didn't mind showing a bit of boob because I was only being seen by my friends: one of whom was a girl, one of whom was probably gay and Glen and Kev didn't seem to be too threatening to me. However, the fact that Kev spent most of the night with a cushion covering his lap did make me a little suspicious.

"Ease up with the drinks, little Miss Movie Buff!" Dot warned, "I didn't think 3-day-olds were allowed to drink." Everyone laughed and I sheepishly put the bottle down. "It's OK," I assured everyone, "I'm not drunk!" I considered myself to be slightly tipsy: intoxicated enough to forget about my slue of problems and let down my hair but sober enough to walk without falling down. "I know, I know, you keep telling us that!" I giggled, the one sure sign that someone was drunk was the constant denial of being drunk. Maybe I had drunk enough. I decided to finish off the bottle and leave it there.

Despite being a lot more intoxicated than all the other players, I trounced everyone in the game. I danced a little victory dance to commemorate my win and prove to everyone that I was drunk and a sexy body does not necessarily mean a sexy dancer. I shook everyone's hand in mock good-sportsmanship.

"Good game, Glen, so close. Good game, Dot. Good game, Mads. And now you know that Steven Spielberg didn't direct Alien, Kev,"

I teased Kev because he came dead last.

"Like I care who directed Alien!"

The boys turned on the TV to watch the cricket. Well, actually they were just flicking through the channels just looking when they came across it. The scores were so close and the commentary team so excited they wanted to watch it. Not as enthusiastic about the cricket as the rest of my former gender I went to shoot the breeze with Dot outside. Don't go thinking that my disinterest was because of the different hormones sashaying through my girly body, I would have abandoned watching sports on TV for a chat, anytime, penis or no penis.

"Hey Victor/Victoria over here!" Dot called to me. She sat on the steps of the Madsen family decking, which gave an amazing view of the sea. The sun was threatening to call it a day and as a last desperate act before logging out for the night was painting the sky a lovely shade of purple. The night watchman, the moon had already clocked in and was patiently waiting for the sun to leave so that he could begin his shift. The presence of a cool, refreshing breeze made it the type of night that your brain would take a snapshot of, just in case you were panicking and needed an emergency calming image. It made me glad I lived in Marrang and glad I was alive.

"Yo! Christen Jorgansson!" Dot called out to me again and ruined the moment.

"Dot! Shut up! I'm coming.

I stumbled a little, as if I was wearing high heels and plonked myself beside her. She lit up a cigarette and began puffing away. I didn't like Dot's smoking habit. She claimed it was inherited from her mother and she only rarely did it but she and I had two different opinions on what 'rarely' meant. For such an incredibly smart girl, smoking seemed to be too stupid a pastime for Dot but nevertheless smart girls seem to make stupid decisions. Like Holly taking that dick, Sobey to the Deb.

"Turkey's done," Dot cryptically said, dryly.

"Huh?"

"I said that the turkey is done."

I furrowed my brow in confusion, "Still not getting you."

Dot sighed, the same little angry sigh she often reserved for me when she became frustrated with trivial matters.

"Let me put it this way… The weather is certainly 'nippy' out here."

I finally cottoned on to what she was gabbing on and looked down. Sure enough, my two plump nipples erectly stood up, clearly visible through my little top

"Oh great!" I groaned as I clumsily tried to cover them.

"Don't worry about it! I was just teasing you."

"These boobs have got a mind of their own!" I complained.

"Well Gemma, they are big enough to warrant their own brains!"

I gave her serious daggers.

"How big are they?" Dot asked staring deep into my cleavage.

"10D," I mumbled, reciting what I had read off the tags from my brassieres.

"Shit! Skinny with big boobs, I might be too jealous of you to continue being your best friend."

"So, how is my best friend doing?" Dot asked as she stubbed the smoke out on the decking and scooted a little closer to me.
I was finally asked this question by someone I didn't feel I had to lie to, there was no pressure or guilt about telling the truth to her.

"It fucking sucks, Dot. I hate so much of it. Not just the body, but the way people act around me and the whole fucking country watching my every move!"

I balled my hands into tight fists again for the hundredth time that week.

"Settle petal," Dot said as she draped her arm around my shoulder, "Us girls are in this together. I'm totally here for you. I've had 16 years in this being a girl business so I can help you out! And believe me I am going to treat you exactly the same"

It was a nice thing for a girl who found saying nice things a particularly difficult thing to achieve.

"Any tips?" I still wasn't used to the girly squeak that was my voice.

"For being a girl?" Dot responded, "Umm… never ever leave your tampon in for more than 4 hours, don't pretend to be stupider than you are to get a boy, learn to love the Gilmore Girls, spitting is very preferable to swallowing, don't listen to any gossip, you're always going to be judged on your looks, broken hearts are curable and masturbation is a very good way to spend your free time."

There was a silence while I took it all in.

"I already like The Gilmore Girls," I admitted.

Dot laughed. It was quiet again after that.

"You know, you are my first female best friend?" Dot said, looking at the horizon.

"I'm not sure if I count."

"Well, I'm counting you," Dot said, "All my life I've always wanted a best friend who was a girl but me and other girls just never seem to get along that well."

She was right, thinking about it I couldn't picture any girl Dot would call a 'good friend'.

"From kinder all the way to high school I've wanted a friend I could talk boys with and go shopping with."

"You never seemed too into clothes and boys, Dot."

"Well, compared to most girls I'm not, I mean I love hanging with you and Glen and playing video games and stuff, but there's sometimes I just wanna have girl chat."

"Aren't you lucky?" I said snidely, "You must be so happy I grew a cunt."

"Don't be a dickhead, Gemma!" Dot snapped back, "You know I didn't want this to happen to you. I'm just saying…"

I knew how she wanted to finish the sentence, so I did it for her, "You're glad that it did."

Dot stood up, clearly fed up.

"Don't be such a bitch!" she said, sounding hurt.

It was never my intention to hurt Dot but I wanted her to admit she was slightly happy I grew into the best friend she always wanted.

"Own up, Dot! You're a little bit pleased to have your best friend transform into your own personal Barbie!"

Dot shot me the daggers, "Stop feeling so sorry for yourself! Fuck! You're already more girl than you think!"

She stormed back into the Madsen's house. Sheesh, women! Can't live with them…

In that argument there, I was pretty sure that I was the victim, it was only a few days after my massive change and I was still coming to terms with it. In my eyes, I was allowed to be a little unpleasant and dare I say it, bitchy, I had earned the right. Why Dot thought she was entitled to be equally as bitchy, I don't know. I wasn't going to be the side to make amends, that was not my job to do. Back when I was male, she never seemed to be that sensitive. We never fought at all. Sure we had friendly disagreements and jokey fights, but they never ended with one of us storming out. Maybe she was PMSing. If that was the case, I was not looking forward to it.

So, I sat outside, hogging the last seconds of the beautiful sunset all to myself.

"Hey," said a voice behind me.

It wasn't Dot coming to apologise, it was the voice of my other best friend.

"Hey Glen, what's up?"

He came over and sat where Dot was sitting moments before.

"Nothing much, buddy," was all he said and that's all I understood.

If he was saying more using 'man-language' I couldn't tell. Two days without external genitals and I was having trouble reading 'man-language'. Out of the corner of my eye I caught him taking a peek at my erect nipples, so in defence I tried to cross my arms in front of them.

He must have seen me seeing him, so he said, "If I had to bet which one of my best friends would develop big boobs, I would have probably picked Dot."

"Yeah," I laughed, "Would have seemed like a safe bet."

"She's in there, crying, you know?"

Now that was surprising. Dot was not one prone to crying or any other fits of emotion. In fact, since I've been friends with her I don't remember ever seeing her cry. She, on the other hand, had seen me bawl plenty of times.

"It's not my fault," I said, childishly, "She was the one who started it!"

I was putting Glen in a position he didn't want to be in. Glen was laid back, totally non-confrontational and not one to be getting in the middle of a squabble between two girls.

"Look, we both know how selfish Dot can be. She can't help it, she's just built that way. But you are a perfectly functioning human being, just be the bigger man,"

Glen realized his mistake almost right away, "I mean…bigger person, and go and apologize. You know she's far too stubborn to make the first move."

Glen made a good point, Dot was not the type of person to admit fault in any situation. She often went toe-to-toe with a teacher if an answer she had given in a test deemed incorrect and she thought otherwise. If she was to come out here, it would be to yell at me some more. Glen knew I would be the first to apologise, I knew it too.

"Yeah, I know. Just give me a few minutes to cool down."

"I miss my cock."

It may have been an obvious statement but I had never said it out loud until then. Glen looked at me.

"But surely being a girl has its upsides."

"I haven't found them yet."
"You mean, you haven't 'plucked the strings on the ol' banjo'?" Glen gingerly asked me.

I couldn't believe that Glen had asked that.

"Ewww! No! … I'm kinda urgeless anyway."

"Not into guys or guys?"

"Not yet, the doctors say it should be soon."

"So, you're going to wake up some day and start craving the cock?"

I shuddered at the word 'craving', an image of me surrounded by men, erect and all waiting their turn while I serviced them flashed into my mind.

"Something along those lines."

"Wow, that's scary," said Glen as he tried to picture it, "You've got so many things to deal with, Gemma."

"Yeah, there is a lot on my plate at the moment."

And that was no lie.

"When are you coming back to school?"

"When Annette and Dr. Chisholm think I'm ready. I'm not sure I wanna come back."

"What? You wanna drop out of school?" Glen asked.

"Maybe…"

Kev came out to join us next.

"Dot's doing OK now," he informed us, "I've never seen Dot cry before."

"Yeah, I was pretty bitchy to her," I said as I made room for Kev to sit down beside us.

The sunset was officially over now and the night seemed to be just a little bit colder.
"But you're allowed to be," Kev sided with me (out here at least), "You've been through an awful lot."

"Did you know she doesn't even know if she's attracted to guys or girls yet?"

"Really? I thought the news said you would be heterosexual."

I didn't like the news reporting about my sexuality. Surely, there was a taste level in journalism that needed lifting.

"I most probably will be, like 99% sure. It's just I don't have any sexual urges at the moment."

"Man, it must feel so weird. You're like a eunuch, it must be weird to look at the world with no sexual desire. It's like never wanting food. You must be able to see everything in a total different way," Kev liked pontificating.

"Not really, I just feel a little bit numb. No-one seems beautiful or sexy to me, at the moment."

Kev asked, "So you haven't 'tapped out an SOS message on your hairy telegraph' yet?"

I had to laugh at that one.

"Where do you guys come up with these?"

"We made them up while you were talking to Dot!" Glen smiled his big, goofy grin as if he was extremely proud of himself.

"You've got a chance to see what life is like on the other side of the fence. You're a dude in girl's clothing. As soon as you get the urge you have to tell us which is better: guy or girl,"

Kev seemed very interested in answering the age-old question. The truth was I had paid more attention to how different my toes looked than my brand new vagina. I knew the basics, things come out of it and you were supposed to put things in it, but that was it. It was the crux of my problems, and I wasn't going to face it until I was ready. To me, my pussy seemed like the End Boss in a video game.

"Kev, you'll know as soon as I do."

"It's so weird, having a good friend turn into a smoking hottie!"

Kev had crossed a line that no guy had done yet. Sure, all the women in my life had called me 'beautiful' and even some of the men confessed I was 'pretty' but those were generic terms with no sexual underpinnings. Kev had called me a 'smoking hottie'. Kev declaring that I was a 'smoking hottie' announced to the world he found me sexually attractive. That under the right circumstances Kev would like to 'fuck' me. Upon looking in the mirror I kinda knew that I was sexy but until some guy actually said it to me I was unsure. Kev had let the cat out of the bag.

"A smoking hottie, huh?" I asked Kev.

"Yeah. Let's be honest here. You've got big green eyes, a cute face, an adorable pixie style haircut, a trim body with long legs and a great big pair of tits! Your butt could be a little bigger but besides from that you truly are a smoking hottie."

It was a little weird to be summed up in a list of body parts, but it wasn't a practice I was unaccustomed to. I had done it to numerous girls in my time.

Good chest, needs to lose weight.
Cute smile, but no ankles.
Wish she had some boobs to go with that ass.
So hot until she opens her mouth.
Great body, Butta face.

I was responsible for those thoughts as was every guy in the world. I was soon to be judged like that or assigned a number, or to have some guy mutter 'Fuck me!' under his breath. It was sort of exciting to know that I would be given a high score. It was unsure, back when I was male, what girls thought of me or if they thought of me at all. But going on previous knowledge, I knew that guys would be thinking about 'Gemma' and those thoughts would be front and centre in their mind whenever I would saunter past them. It felt exhilarating to be wanted.

"So do you think I'm a smoking hottie, Glen?" I asked him outright.

"Gemma, I don't think about my friends like that. I mean you are very pretty and all, it's just hard to stick you into my sexual thoughts box when you've been my best friend since we've been eight,"

Glen seemed flustered, and rightly so. It was a tricky question to answer. It didn't stop me from teasing him, which was my duty as his best friend.

"Ha ha! You find me sexy! You find me sexy!" I sang while undulating my body and letting my hands caress it like an under-trained stripper.

Glen returned fire, "Just wait until you turn, girly. You'll be begging for a piece of Glen! All the bitches do!"
He flexed his paltry muscles. I stifled a laugh.

Kev pulled his shirtsleeve up, "Those are piss weak! Now these are muscles!"

Kev flexed and a bulging bicep muscle appeared.

"Impressed, Gemma?"

Kev had a thing of being too competitive and being able to wreck a jovial moment. He knew he had a good body.

Glen got serious all of a sudden, "But I think you will have to be careful because a lot of guys will find you sexy and you don't know what guys will do."

Glen brought up a concern I hadn't thought about yet. Rape. As a guy, all you really had to fear was prison rape and a lot of mistakes had to have been made before that was a real fear. The only mistake a girl had to make to be raped was to walk down the wrong street at night. This smaller, skinnier body already felt vulnerable but I wasn't sure I could walk around town with the added threat of rape looming over me. The best thing to do was to push the thoughts into the back of my mind and try and forget about them.

"I might go speak with Dot," I said, standing up, "Don't watch my bum as a leave, thank you very much assembled perverts."

As I walked away I shielded my arse with my hands. Dot and Mads were in the lounge room just watching some crappy movie on TV when I came in. Silently, I sat down and joined them. None of us said a word as we watched the bad film with a supposed vested interest. She wasn't going to apologize first, I reminded myself.

"Look…" I started off, "I'm sorry. I said some things that weren't true back there."
"Don't worry about it," she said without breaking gaze from the TV.

It wasn't a forgiving 'Don't worry about it', it was more a 'let's ignore this problem together' deal.

"No, you're my best friend, Dot. See?"

I opened her stupid locket that I was still wearing, "There a picture of us, being best friends. I may look a little different but I feel the exact same way about you."

To show her this, I hugged her over-zealously.

"Ow!" she laughed, "You're smothering me with your boobs!"

"Say you forgive me!" I said, hugging her tighter.

"Let go of me! You Salma Hayeck wannabe!"

"Say it!"

"I forgive you, Lara Croft!"

"Promise?"

"I promise, just free me from your booby trap, Baby Dolly Parton!"

I relented and stopped the bear hug.

"Good," she gasped, "I was running out of celebrities with big tits."

"Pamela Anderson?" I suggested.

"Thanks," she smiled, "I'll remember her for next time."

"So this whole fight is over?" I asked.

"Of course, it's a little weird that I have a girl for a best friend now. It's just going to take me awhile to get used to you being a bit bitchy sometimes."

It wasn't the 'I'm sorry too' I was looking for, but for Dot it came close. It seemed that our friendship was patched once again. However, I was unsure how many more ruptures could be fixed with a simple patch. Dot really seemed to have a problem with me being a girl, even if she didn't want to admit it. It appeared that she didn't know how to have a female friend, what she was calling 'bitchy' behaviour by me would have been labelled 'cracking the sads' if I was a guy, something that would have never upset her. If I was going to keep this very important friendship going, I was going to have to work hard at it.

Kev, Glen and I all arranged to go to the beach tomorrow at my house.
Although I was looking forward to swimming, I was a little scared of the problems I was going to face. But it was a challenge I needed to face eventually.
I said goodbye to everyone as Mum's car arrived to pick me up.
My first night out with friends wasn't quite a success but like everyone else, I was coping.

"I need some swimming togs," I half mumbled/half announced at the breakfast table the next morning.

"What was that?" asked Mum as she buttered her toast.

I told her about my beach plans with my mates in the afternoon.

"That sounds like a great day out."

"I guess so."

"Perhaps you and Nicky can go shopping for bathers this morning."

Swimsuit shopping with my sister? My brain would explode if I tried to think of a more embarrassing activity.

"Is that cool with you, Nicky?" Mum called down the hall, before I could realize what she was doing.

"What's that?" screamed back my sister.

"You want to take Gem shopping for bathers?"

"Yeah, I'll just grab the gift vouchers!"

Without being able to stop it, it had been arranged.
Each bite of my jam on toast seemed a little bitterer now.

Before I knew it, Nicole and I were walking into Sun, Ski and Surf, our local clothing shop for all things watersporty. It also stocked a lot of 'cool' clothes for teens, summery colours, fashionable brands, that sort of thing. When I wanted to impress Holly I would wear clothes bought from here. Nicole practically marched to the swimsuit area. I wasn't as excited as she was. This must have been a dream for her, her own brand new little sister, her very own to dress however she wanted. And from the looks of it she wanted to show me off.

She held up a revealing one. "No," I answered, quickly, "I want just a plain one-piece."

I said it quietly too as we were drawing glances from everyone in the shop. They all were amazed to see 'The Gemma Taylor' in person. They whispered things to each other and messaged people on their mobile phones. I felt like the guest of honour at a funeral, with everyone talking quietly about me but not to me at all. Nicole, however, was completely oblivious to this. The whole situation made me uncomfortable and I wondered if going out in public would ever feel normal again.

"We'll get you a boring one-piece, but we'll get you something cuter too," was Nicole's mission statement, "for when you get more comfortable in your skin."

I sighed, Nicole was notoriously stubborn, so there was no chance of me getting my way in this one. The whispering crowd seemed to be tightly closing in on me, judging me, staring at me.

"Nicole," I whispered, "I'm just going to go into the change room. Can you pick some stuff for me and just hand me it there?"

"Why?"

"These people are staring at me."

"Oh, go on then."

The polite but obtrusive glances followed me into the changed room, where no one could see me. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I was free, free of the hushed gossip and the sideways glances. It was a nice spacious change room with a chair and a large mirror. I think it was the first time I saw myself in a full-length mirror. Despite my minimal efforts, I still looked pretty cute today - wearing a short-sleeved flannel shirt and a pair of jeans. The buttons on the shirt were slipped off and I became a cute little girl in a bra and a pair of jeans and then with some fiddling, a girl in a pair of jeans. That was the point when Nicole came in.

"Whoa!" she said, announcing her entry.

I quickly tried to cover myself, throwing my little hands up in front of my nipples.

"Nicole!" I whined, "Haven't you heard of knocking?"

"I didn't think you would already be undressed, Gemma," Nicole answered, "Why would you undress before I brought the clothes in?"

"Because I want this over and done with!"

She handed me a black swimsuit.

"This is the most conservative one they have in your size."

When boys go swimming they were allowed to wear shorts, and the body or sun conscious even wore T-shirts. Girls, on the other hand were expected to dress in only their swimsuits in the water, sure they could wear a (shudder) sarong or something on the beach, when it came into going inside the water they only had a thin piece of material to conceal their body. Which was more than I had on now, I though as I removed my hand from a breast to hold on to the swimsuit. Blood heard the call and came rushing to my cheeks.

"Oh don't be so shy, Gem. It's not like I've never seen boobs before."

Nicole was thrown out while I went mano-e-mano with the swimsuit. First, off came the jeans, spooling onto the floor, leaving a girl naked bar her little boy-leg panties. I liked these boy-leg panties, they were cut like a boy pair of undies, except there was more room in the seat and less room in the crotch but other than that they were very 'familiar'. It wasn't necessary to wriggle out of those as well, I thought, so I confronted the swimsuit. The fact of the matter was I was unsure if this was actually the most modest swimsuit in the entire shop, I had to take Nicole's word on it. Since I was safely secured inside this change room, Nicole could feed me all sorts of misinformation. I decided I just had to grin and bear it, as that was the best way to get out of here as fast as I can.

I stepped into the back one-piece and slowly tugged the bathers up my body. It nestled against my crotch and worked up past my hips, waist until just under my breasts. One arm in and then the other arm through the armhole and then I squished my boobs in as I pulled the black stretchy material over them. I was now in the swimsuit. I fiddled with my boobs trying to get them to feel right as I stared at the image in the mirror. I was sexy, I couldn't help that and putting on a skin-tight swimming costumed only seemed to accentuate it. But at least I wasn't showing too much skin; the swimsuit was cut quite high at the top, showing barely any skin below my shoulder blades and none of my butt. The front was a different matter altogether, my thighs were revealed and quite a lot of my underwear along with them. And my boobs actually seemed bigger, somehow, restrained behind the fabric. The swimsuit was cut a little above halfway up my breasts and created a cleavage that I didn't have to lean over to expose. The brand 'Speedo' was embroidered in white above my right hip. To avoid freaking out I kept telling myself it could be a lot worse.

"Nicole," I called.

"Yeah?"

"I'm done."

Nicole opened the door and joined me inside the room. She eyed me up and down before passing her judgement.

"Geez, I wish I was as skinny as you!" was her verdict, "You pull it off well."

"It's a little tight in the top," I informed her, as did my overflowing breasts.

"Well, to fit in the bottom it was going to have to be tight in the top," she remarked,
"but it looks fine. We're going to have to stop off at Tania's though."

Tania's was where Nicole worked as a hairdresser, it was a women's salon, a place far too filled with oestrogen, hair spray and gossip that I could barely stand running in to talk to Nicole for 5 minutes.

"Why do we have to go to Tania's?"

"To get your hairy legs and bikini line waxed."

I looked down at my legs, sure there was some hair on them, but I wouldn't call them hairy. Hairy legs are what I had before, thick, dark hair protruding all over, even my feet. These were shapely legs with a few random strands of thin, downy, very fair hair sprinkled over them. OK, so my pussy region was a little more hirsute but that was because I wasn't going to shave myself clean down there, I couldn't even bring myself to touch anything down there.

The solution came to me, "We don't need to do that. I'll just wear board shorts over the top of my bathers."

"Gemma, you'll have to wax or shave your legs some time."

She was probably right, I was a girl and thus had to do the basic things that a girl does just to fit in. I could avoid most of the extras, nobody was going to force me to wear a skirt or heels or suck a guy's cock but the truth was it was the middle of summer and I was still hiding my legs away in sweltering jeans. I was going to have to break out the shorts sometime soon and with the entire country staring at me. Not today though. I had taken too many steps towards trading in my former gender completely and my mind wasn't budging on the issue.

"Please Nicole," I put on best begging little sister voice and face, "I don't want to shave my legs."

"OK, fine! Wear some stupid shorts, be unfashionable, see what I care. I'm still going to buy you something cute to wear if you change your mind. And when you do, I can wax your legs at home."

I didn't like Nicole use of the word 'when' - I thought 'if' would have been the better choice. However, Nicole was nice enough to run and get me a simple pair of board shorts. They were primarily white with a blue strip down each leg and they were long, to my knees. They looked good against the black of the swimsuit.

"Happy?"

"Yep."

"Right, now it's my turn," Nicole said as she handed me another swimsuit.

I grabbed it, or at least I thought I did. I only grabbed the top half, while the bottom half flitted to the floor. Nicole had picked a bikini for me, a tiny, little bikini. Trying it on would be a hassle but Nicole wouldn't leave me alone until I did. All I would have to do is wear it this once and never again. It was pink. Typical! I wriggled into the bottoms and tugged them up, according to the mirror they were cut quite high on my bum, and if I wasn't already wearing my boy-leg briefs I would be exposing a fair amount of cheek. I wiggled into the top as well, jostling my breasts into position. It was skimpy and snug at the same time. Yep, if I were a different type of girl this would be a perfect outfit. My tight little tummy was on display and the cleavage created could only be described as 'impressive'. Nicole would be happy.

"See? Don't you like it better?" she asked me as she made me look at myself in the mirror. "You are such a little sexpot! You've got the best qualities from Mum and Dad. You don't have Mum's googly eyes or her big nose, like I do. You've got really cute features."

"I'm so lucky," I said, with the sarcasm dripping from my voice.

"You'll wake up one day and realize how lucky you are, Gem. You might hate being a pretty girl but being an ugly one would probably be worse."

So, I was a pretty girl. I reminded myself that things could be worse and I walked onto the sand, following the boys. They excitedly flung their T-shirts onto the shore before splashing headlong into the sea. I was a little more timid, placing my towel carefully on the ground and slowly unbuttoning my flannel shirt. I placed it on the towel and began to slowly edge towards the inviting ocean.

"Hurry up, Taylor!" Glen called out to me, his voice almost swallowed by the sea.

I would have run, if I wasn't scared of looking like a Baywatch babe running across the beach, seductively bouncing. So instead, I quickly shuffled towards the water.

The water felt absolutely freezing when my toes first touched it but I didn't run back, I ploughed on. I had been in this water so often I knew not be scared of its initial coldness, I knew that you would only make the problem worse by dwelling on the temperature. Usually the very worst thing about walking into chilly water was when a painfully cold wave would cheekily hit your testicles, making them turn and run up inside your body. At least that wasn't going to be a problem for me anymore. A wave did swell up and hit my crotch and despite the coldness, I was spared the crippling pain of immense and sudden ball shrinkage. Finally, an upside!

If my pussy was apparently unfazed by the drop in temperature than my nipples more than made up for it, pricking up to tell everyone I was cold. They were like little lighthouses, alerting me that water was near. And when a rogue wave hit me fair in the chest, they stung a little bit. But that had to be the worst of it and that meant I was practically totally submerged. It was all downhill from here. I did a duck-dive under the water to get my head wet. The water wasn't that bad anymore, I had adjusted to it. I had beaten it.

"G'day gentlemen," I said as I swum up to the boys.

"Howdy," replied Glen.

"I finally found an upside to this all becoming-a-girl thing," I left a pause, "No shrinkage!"

"I was just telling Glen that I feel like what you must have mid-transformation," laughed Kev while he shivered a little bit, "I know I have genitals I just can't find them."

It was great to have a swim again, although it felt different. I was clumsy in the water. It was like I was learning to swim again. I knew the basics but it felt different being in the weird shaped body. I wasn't as lean anymore, as hydro-dynamical. It was almost like having two floatation devices stuck to my chest that were always trying to get me to float to the top. The baggy board shorts weren't helping much either. We raced each other. Back in a time when I would also be fighting shrinkage I could usually beat Glen and occasionally I could beat Kev but today I lost it by miles. I'm not that much of a competitive type, so I wasn't too upset, plus I had a great excuse: I was only a 4-day-old racing against a 16 and 18-year-old.

Swimming in the ocean is a fight against the coldness. You stay out as long as you can, without shivering. Living with two females all my life had taught me that women get cold easier than men, I'm not sure why. I was no different, about 40 minutes in the chills got to me and I said, "I'm going back now, lads."

"I think I might join you," said Glen, which effectively ended Kev's swim too.

The usual problem about getting out of the water was that it was cold getting out of the water too. It was cold getting in, staying in too long and then you were slapped with another bout of cold by the breeze hitting your wet body. Today, the sea breeze was minimal and the sun was beating down on us, so as the water level receded I didn't feel very cool. My nipples disagreed with me but I wasn't listening to them anymore. The boys clattered out of the ocean like they were thrown out running past me and hurtling towards their towels. I wanted to experience their carefree abandon too, so I broke out into a run. It was only a few strides in when I understood Annette's long talk about sports bras, properly. While I ran, my boobs desperately tried to keep up with my body but they kept getting it wrong. When I was up, my boobs were down and when I was down my boobs were high on my chest, they just couldn't get it right. I slowed down and the problem, while not over, was a whole lot less chaotic.

I bounced over to the guys. "That felt great!" I breathlessly gushed.

"The water is such an awesome stress reliever," agreed Kev, his very muscular body glistening in the afternoon sun. It was weird looking at his body, knowing that soon that would look very attractive to me.
Glen wasn't quite that buff, in fact he had a little bit of a belly which he appeared to be sucking in. Was he worried that I was judging him on his looks? I hoped he wasn't because there was nothing more destructive in a friendship than sexual tension. The fact of the matter was, even if I was attracted to boys, I doubted that I would have a boyfriend, I doubted even more that it would be Glen. It would be too weird because we were too good friends. As a guy, I hated to hear that from girls but it was true. Glen and I had been friends since we were eight and one of us spontaneously changing gender is not enough to change the fact I saw him as my brother.

I probably wouldn't date Kev either but that was for other reasons.

"You're really rocking that swimsuit, Gemma!" he told me as we dried ourselves.

"Huh?" was all I could say to him.

Glen also gave him a stare that seemed to say, "Dude, what the hell are you saying?"

Despite the confused looks, Kev rambled on oblivious, "It's cool that you used to be a guy so that I can say these things to you, you know? I don't just have to bottle up all these thoughts, which would only make me hornier. To think you used to be Michael Taylor a week ago but now you are sexy, little Gemma Taylor. That just blows my mind!"

Girls used to always tell me how sleazy he was but that didn't bother me. He was my friend, I was his and we were both guys so his sleaziness was a flaw I rarely had to see. It was only when we were around girls that he became Sleazy Kev. Now that I had become a girl his lecherous nature was creeping in.

"Your boob-to-waist ratio is so perfect," Kev said looking me up and down, "What size are they, double D?"

"Just a single D." I have no idea why I told him that!

"They probably seem so big because your waist is so small. And because you're shortish. And because they are mega perky. They just look so big and inviting. But not too big. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing. And you've got just enough. You looked so fucking hot when you were running towards us!"

When did he become the expert on breasts? I was getting fairly sick of talking about my boobs, they seemed to be the only thing people wanted to talk about. I had been through an experience that less than 100 people in the world had been through and all anyone wants to talk about is the apparent perkiness of my mammary glands. I wandered if all large-chested women had to endure this torment.

Kev must have noticed that I was tired of all this boob talk and moved on.

"I mean, you're pretty well designed. It's as if the nanobots had sexiness in mind. I mean, just watching you dry yourself is an alluring activity."

Was he serious? Glen looked at me as if to say, "Do you want me to kill this nut job and leave his body in a shallow bush grave for you?" Glen didn't say a lot so I was adept at reading his eyes. Sure, I used to be a guy and we used to talk about girls quite graphically but since my forcible change in perspective this type of conversation was best left as a memory of how I used to be. Although, I did do a lot of proclaiming that I was going to be the very same person as before just in a different shaped box, so maybe I should see Kev's warblings as an attempt to reach out to me and talk the way we used to about girls.

Kev continued as we packed up our stuff, "You're probably going to be one of the hottest girls at school. Up there with Leanne Ward-McGregor, Alanna Sturt and Alison what's-her-name."

"Sorokin," Glen chimed in with the last name of the girl he had a crush on.

"That's it," Kev bundled his shirt and towel into a ball, "You are that hot! I know since you don't have any sexual drive you probably didn't know that."

"Enough people have been saying it that I got the idea."

"How do you feel about it?"

I thought I would regurgitate some of my sister's advice, "I guess it's better than being ugly."

I retold the story about Kev and his leering ways to Dot on the phone that evening.

"He's such a perv. He always tells me how 'unclassically' beautiful I am when it's just us two." Kev had often pined to me about wanting Dot's affection and how she would make a wonderful girlfriend. I was doubtful of that.

"He's gross but harmless," Dot summarized him, "So how was the beach?"

"Really good. You should have come."

"You know I can't swim, dildo!"

'Dildo' had always been one of Dot's favourite terms of scorn. It was true, despite living two kilometres from the beach Dot couldn't swim. For the entire seven years of primary school whenever we had school swimming lessons, Dot would sit them out. She blamed it on an ear-infection she had as a baby but I think she was scared of the water.

"How did the swimsuit go?"
"It was like squeezing two watermelons into a rubber glove," I joked.

"Nice imagery, Mick! I mean Gemma. Wow, I actually called you by the wrong name. Sorry dude"

"Don't be. I'm glad someone did."

"So, will you be joining us at Marrnag College tomorrow, ready for a General Maths double in the morning?"

"Nope, not going to school until at least Wednesday. Got a full medical exam on Tuesday before Dr. Chisholm can ship off."

"Full medical exam? You mean they're going in deep?"

I gulped, "Guess so."

"It's gross and invasive but it doesn't last that long."

"Sounds like the way you'd describe our night together."

"Fuck you!" Dot laughed, "That's what I was going to say!"

"Sorry, I beat you to it!"

"So, what are you doing tomorrow then?"

"Oh, you know, nothing much, just sitting back. Anna Coren may stop by to interview me," I said as nonchalantly as I could.

"Oh shit! I totally forgot about your big interview."

"Not just my interview."

"What you talking 'bout, Willis??????"

"My publicist just called and said that Channel 7 wants to interview two of my friends tomorrow too. So, I thought I'd extend my offer to you."

"And Glen?"

"Yep."

"Well, good news for you, Taylor. He's here, I'm helping him do his Maths homework. Does that mean we get out of school?"

"Oh yeah."

"Rock on, Daddy-O! Let me just ask Mum if it's OK. I'll hand you over to Mr. Lumsden."

There was some scuffling and mumbling as Dot handed the phone over to Glen.

"Hi Glen," I said.

"Hey Gemma," he replied, "Are we really going to be on TV?"

"Maybe, I mean I am going to be. You may be cut for time."

"But it's going to be an hour long special. Surely there's going to be some time for me?"

Despite being a quiet guy, Glen liked his time in the spotlight. I think that's why he was always so quiet, he was always trying to come up with the perfect thing to say.

"I don't know. I am a very good story teller."

"True, true. Enjoy the swim today?"

"Yeah, was fun," I replied, "Next time let's leave Sleazy Kev out of the loop and go by ourselves though."

"That would be awesome because I think you are so fuckin' hot and I want to kiss you so fuckin' bad!" said Glen, or at least Dot doing a horrendous Glen impression.

I heard Glen say "Get fucked!" to Dot.

"You suck," I told her.

"I'm in," she said, changing the subject.

"OK, ace! My house, 10am."

"Deal! See ya, Hootie!"

And before I could finish asking her why she called me Hootie she hung up. She was a weird one. Glen messaged me about 10 minutes later telling me he was in as well.

That night I lay in bed, watching my chest rise and fall with each breath. Out of pure curiosity I had decided to sleep in the nude. It was a hot night and clothes seemed to be more a hassle than anything and so nothing but a thing sheet covered me from the rest of the world. And yet I felt safe. After days and days of things not going my way I felt I could stick that day in 'I won' column. Granted it was my easiest day for a while. No doctors, no fights, no Annette (she took the day off with my approval), no paparazzi, no more transforming. Hopefully I could get a few more wins and then I might actually start feeling good for a change.

I think the swim made all the difference.

CHAPTER 12

Today was different.

I woke with a start, for a start. This was the first day all week I had used my alarm clock. So far 'Gemma' had no reason to wake up early, she had a nice and easy life. But not today. Today was a big working day. Today was the filming of my exclusive interview with Channel 7. Today was the day I earned my $2.25 million paycheque.

But as I shot up in bed, startled by the alarm clock, I couldn't remember that. All I seemed to know was what I see: it was morning, I was naked and I was still a girl. The last thought I always have before going to sleep it is, 'Maybe tomorrow I will be awake from this dream'. And every morning there are a few seconds where I slowly realise that I am still 'dreaming', that I still have a vagina and that the world is still a very strange place.

The thoughts began to come back to me as I blearily stumbled out of bed. Sleeping naked comes with a problem, do I make a naked run to the shower and risk being seen or do I put on some clothes only to walk the four metres to the bathroom and take them off again? It was a quandary as old as time itself, or at least as old as people being ashamed of their naked bodies. I listened to the door and heard nothing, the coast was most likely clear. I waited for a second, flung open the door and pounced. I was like a cat or a well-trained federal police officer, except for the fact I was starkers. I was almost there, the mission so close to completion. I opened the bathroom door and skidded in, only to hear Mum calling out, "Cute bum!" from the kitchen. I was caught- I had bet all and lost.

It was still weird seeing 'Gemma's' reflection in the mirror. I was slowly getting used to it but I kept thinking of 'Michael's' reflection tied to a chair, gagged and locked away in some basement. However, the fact I saw seeing 'Gemma's' lovely image today meant I was going to be a lot richer by the end of it.

I was excited by the money and had plans for the year after Graduating Year 12. They involved world travel and seeing exciting destinations far away from Gemma Taylor being a household name. I playfully practiced a few facial expressions I would need to use today: my sad face, my scared of the future face, my nervous to be the centre of attention face and my hopeful face. My big eyes made all these expressions all the more telling. My dream was always to become an actor. I would have to wait and see if this entire hubbub over the transformation would die down, otherwise I may be hired for acting work but they would just be picking me because I was 'that girl'. The idea of moving to the USA or the UK appealed to me very much.

I washed my hair and all today, the whole works. I even shaved my legs, it didn't seem to be the big deal it was yesterday. I wondered if that should scare me. Was Isurrendering too easily to what seemed like a massive deal to me yesterday? Was I only a few days away from letting some guy stick his penis inside me? The fact I was cleaning up my pubic area with a ladies' razor may suggest that but I was doing that with the intention of going swimming again and not having to wearing those big baggy shorts. I'm pretty sure sexual intercourse would eventually happen but I foresee a much more mature Gemma getting involved with that.

The ladies' razor was pink. That was essentially the only difference from the ones I used to shave my face. I was using a pink one because there was not one hair on my pretty little face but a few on my legs and nether regions. I didn't shave my pussy totally bald, that didn't appeal to me, but I left a little landing strip that I had seen on the internet a lot. On the net, all girls seem to come from two groups, bald or cute little landing strip. Although amateur porn videos on the net probably aren't the best source of knowledge when it came to grooming tips, they were the ones I could use the most discreetly.

When I was finished and all dry, I rubbed my legs together and enjoyed the feeling of two smooth legs. According to the mirror I was a lot more 'managed' down there and looked like I could be the star of my own internet video. I tipped my head back and pretended to moan like the women in the videos. I clutched at my boobs and rubbed them together, the feelings I received were nice but not 'sexy' nice. My landscaping duties around my pussy seemed to take some of the terror away from it. It looked less like a chasm in the middle of a dense forest and more like a wishing well at the bottom of the garden path. It just didn't seem as scary anymore. Curiosity got the better of me and my hand slowly ambled down the garden path and circled the lip of the well. Again, nice but not 'sexy' nice. Maybe if I explored what was inside the well? My middle finger ever so gently entered just inside, the word that came to me was 'sensitive'. And I just as slowly removed my finger and rinsed it under the tap. That was enough exploring for one day.

I wrapped a towel around me and returned to my bedroom. It was barely 8am and already the day was quite hot. It seemed we had somewhat of a heat wave on our hands, hot enough for people to mumble 'global warming' under their breath. I slid my panties up my legs and decided it was too hot for jeans. It wasn't a decision I made lightly, for what I wore today would be viewed by a lot of people. It had to be shorts. Lessening the blow somewhat I chose a pair of denim shorts, "Just putting on my Daisy Dukes," I mumbled to myself as I pulled them up. They were nowhere near as form fitting or as short as the ones Jessica Simpson wore in that silly movie but there were the most revealing pants I had worn to date. For a top I chose another tank top. I considered tank tops to be my uniform as they were casual, young and feminine without going overboard. This one was a bright red with thing spaghetti straps and had the brand name embroidered across my left boob. Tyler had told me yesterday that Channel 7 would bring hair and make-up people themselves, so I didn't fuss with my hair at all. I wasn't sure about make-up but Tyler said it was essential for TV, when I told him last night that I didn't wear any for the press conference he told me to stop being such a girl and wear the make-up which made the both of us laugh.

There was a bang on the door, which meant Nicole was awake and demanding use of the bathroom; luckily for her I didn't turn into a preening little princess like herself otherwise the bathroom would become a hotly contested territory.

"I'm coming," I told her as I scurried for the door; early morning-Nicole was a creature you didn't want to make angry. My dainty fingers twisted the knob and I opened the door. Instead of pushing past me and setting up shop like she usually did, Nicole took a step back.

"Shorts! Nice!" she complimented me, using early morning monosyllable talk. "Turn 'round."

I obeyed.

"Good, good. You shaved?"

"Yep, all by myself," I kinda proudly said.

She squatted down and caressed my legs in a qualitative examination. Her verdict?
"Excellent job, Gem!"

"Can I go and have some breakfast now?" I asked, hoping I had passed enough tests.

"Proceed."

I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and took a bite as I swung open the fridge door. I pulled the carton out and poured myself a long tall glass of 'breakfast juice'.

"Morning!" Mum called to me.

She sounded exceedingly chipper for a woman who usually hated morning with a passion.

"Good morning," I returned.

"How did you sleep?" Mum asked as she kissed me on the forehead.

"Not too bad. You?"

"Also not bad. Ready for the interview?"

"I guess so."

Mum looked out the window, "Looks like it's going to be another scorcher!"

Despite every weird thing that has happened, people's ability to talk about the weather is never hindered. I'm sure that the day World War Two was declared it was topic of conversation number two, right after the amount of rain they had been getting.

"That's why I'm wearing shorts!"

Mum peered under the table. "So you are!"

There was a rap at the door and I jumped up to get it.
The whole TV thing had filled me with a twitchy, nervous energy

"I'll get it," I called as I bounded from the table. I unlatched the lock and opened the door.

"Hi Tyler!" I said.

My cheery morning greeting must have shocked him as he looked a little startled.

"Uh… good morning Gemma."

I spotted a car pull up and Dot and Glen got out.

"Hi guys!" I called out, perhaps a little too loud for Tyler.

They waved back.

"Tyler, these are my friends, Dorothy Newsom and Glen Lumsden."

Tyler shook both of their hands.

"So you're the ones looking after our little girl?" Tyler said as if he was my protective big brother.

"Well, she can be quite the handful, but we do our best," teased Dot.

A nice black car pulled up outside my house and a well-dressed older man clambered out. He was chubby and sweating as if he was on the surface of Mercury.

"I've got an introduction for you now. Assorted teenagers meet the producer of the Gemma Taylor special, Reg Bastoni."

We all said our names as his plump and clammy hand limply shook our hands.

When I said my name he answered with, "I know who you are. Everyone does."

Tyler and Reg rounded up all the players in the day's events. Mum, Nicole, Glen, Dot and I all sat around the kitchen table while Reg explained what Channel 7 wanted to do. I missed the start because I was watching him play with his tie as he rambled on. I had always been easily distracted, one of my worst traits. Why Reg was wearing a full suit on such a warm day also confused me. I was in shorts and a tank top and it seemed extremely warm to me, he must be sweltering. Even Tyler, who looked professional at all times was in a short sleeved shirt.

"So, what we're interested in making is a portrait of you, Gemma. A portrait of who you are and who you were and the process that took you from there to here,"

Reg's voice was very gravelly, as if he had smoked continually from the moment he turned 12 until he got out of his car 10 minutes ago.

"You all seem like very nice, very relaxed people and the thing is not to forget that as soon as the camera goes on. Now, Anna Coren from Today Tonight is flying in from Melbourne and will be here in about an hour. She is the one who will be interviewing you all. We'll start with you, Gemma and then we'll get other people to join in. It's going to be friendly, relaxed and may I stress non-confrontational. Tyler has told me that you have a delightful porch out back that would be a perfect spot to do the interviews. Can I see?"

"This'll be perfect!" Reg exclaimed, "It's got a perfect 'Home, Sweet, Home' look with the beach in the background. It doesn't get too windy back here, does it?"

"Not really," answered Mum, trying to see the majesty of our dingy old porch that Reg could.

Slowly the entire TV crew arrived in their vans on our street. The neighbours stood on their front lawns and watched the spectacle. Aside from the one time, the press had been nice enough to leave the house alone. Two big, white vans with a big red 7 emblazed on the side spilled into the street and men came scurrying out to bring in the equipment. It was like watching ants just before it rains, working as fast as possible. Lights on long poles and camera stands pouring into my house.

"Can you come with me, sweetheart?" asked Reg as he took my hand.

"Where are we going?" I asked, a little scared of this mountain of a man whose voice sounded like an avalanche.

He led me to one of the vans and inside was a mirror and make-up and a woman wearing a bandana who was ready to try out the make-up on my face.

Reg introduced us, "Gemma, this is Emily. Emily, Gemily. I mean Gemma. Try saying that ten times fast."

"Hi," I shyly said.

"Hi."

Doing a lot of school musicals and plays I was no stranger to make-up. To me, it was a necessary evil so that people up the back of the theatre could make out your face. Emily's box was filled with things I knew of; foundation, blush, lipstick, eyeliner, mascara.

"Take a seat," Emily told me.

She was the quiet mousy type, which was a nice change from all the extroverted chatterboxes I had met within the last week. She was a little taller than me but skinny as a rake. She looked young but with some people you can never tell. Taped to the mirror were photos of me with notes scribbled messily all over it

"What are they for?" I asked about the pictures.

"Just so I could figure out your colouring before I saw you in person," she squeaked in her shy voice, "If you haven't noticed, you are kind of big deal."

I could hear the roar of a helicopter overhead that must have Anna Coren inside.

"Yeah, I noticed," I laughed, "You're not going to do anything too drastic with the make-up, are you?"

"No, I get the feeling from you that you're a real natural type, you know? So, it's not going to be too much. Just enough that you don't look washed out on camera. You are already pretty enough."

"Thanks," I grumbled.

"Oh sorry, where is my head? I just see a pretty girl and assume she would find that a compliment but I guess you would rather not be a pretty girl, huh?"

"You guessed right. But there's nothing I can do about it."

Emily took out some foundation and began dabbing it gently on me and with one question I knew I would be having the same conversation with her that I have already had with a lot of people beforehand.

"So, did it hurt?"

I saw it as a practice interview, so I didn't mind answering all her questions while she expertly applied the make-up. She wasn't rough like the make-up ladies at the plays who would dig the eyeliner pencil right into your eye. And I hate to admit it, but all her work was making me even prettier, enhancing my natural glow.

"So, I like your hair," she commented.

"Thanks, it was a lot like this when I was male, but it seems a lot longer now. I'm not sure if it's because my head is a little smaller now or because it grew a lot during the transformation."

"Are you going to grow it out?"

"I don't know."

She put some hairpins into it, and pulled it out of my face. Growing it out would be a step into becoming more girly than I had to be. I mean shaving my legs and pits might seem a step towards that already but society kind of demands it, people still talk about when Julia Roberts didn't shave her armpits at some film premier and that was back when I was in primary school. Society doesn't really care how long a girl's hair is, as long as it's not too short. My length was perfectly acceptable, a 'pixie cut' as Kev had referred to it.

"So, you must be Gemma," a familiar voice called out as the person it was attached to entered the van. I have heard this voice talk to me over dinner for the last few years, telling me about social injustices, about shonky businesses and about miracle weight loss stories. It was Anna Coren, the host of Today Tonight. She was a beautiful woman in her thirties that seemed to populate news and currents affairs programs beside men in their forties and fifties. But she wasn't dressed in her usual smart suit; she was dressed in a large floppy hat, with sunglasses, a blue top and a long, flowing floral skirt.

"Hi Miss Coren," I said, very politely, wondering if that should have been 'Ms. Coren' because I was unsure if she was married or not.

I wouldn't have to worry about that anymore because she told me in her deep, professional voice, "Please call me Anna."

I was getting flustered a little bit around her, which was weird because she wasn't that much of a big celebrity and she was probably more nervous about this interview than I was. But it was so strange to come face to face with a person who you have seen every night on TV. It was like meeting Marge Simpson or something.

"So, are you looking forward to today?" Anna asked me.

"I guess so," I told the woman who couldn't usually hear me from the other side of the TV, "How about you?"

"Very much so, Gemma. It was such a great speech you gave the other day. You seem like a very thoughtful and very intelligent 17-year-old. I'm sure you'll be able to shine a light on this very unusual experience you've been through."

It was a very professional statement, it could have easily been her introduction to the interview. That disappointed me a little because I was hoping to see the more personal side of Anna Coren.

It wasn't too long before I was sitting on the back porch with people scurrying all around, adjusting lights and running cables. I felt guilty that I wasn't helping but there was nothing I could do plus I'm pretty sure that they wouldn't want their $2.25 million investment playing with electrical equipment. The tech guys all stared at me with a combination of lust and unobscured curiosity. It felt like I was a sexy animal in a zoo. I suddenly wished I wasn't wearing such a revealing outfit, even though it was standard attire for any 17-year-old girl. But the way I was being looked at I felt so on display. I could almost feel my clothes being gently peeled off as they mentally undressed me. Sure, I have had a few guys 'check me out' but this was like 8 all at once. Even Tyler seemed to make a sideways glance whenever he could. My boobs were well and truly ogled.
Therefore, I was quite happy when Anna Coren showed up to sit on the chair opposite me. She was now fully made up and had removed her summery hat and sunglasses. She was still dressed casually though and not in the business attire I was used to seeing her wear on TV.

"Are you wearing that?" I asked her.

"This isn't going to be an interrogation, Gemma," she said as men with camera stands walked past her, "It's more like a friendly chat about your experience. So that's why I'm not going to be dressed more formally."

It was weird seeing her dressed so casually, it was like seeing a policeman in Bermuda shorts or funeral director in a sombrero. A sound technician came over to me and got me to stand and turn around. He then clipped a cordless microphone transmitter to the belt and got me to feed the wire up under my top. I groped around between my boobs for the mic and navigated it through the valley between the two fleshy mounds. It must have been quite a sight for him and looking at Anna Coren' s 'professionally' sized small B-Cups, one he was not privy to very often. I clipped to the top of my shirt and the tech explained that I should forget about it, it was only a backup mic in case the boom missed what I was saying. I nodded diligently.

"Just try and ignore everyone," Anna told me, "It's just going to be a little conversation between you and me."

"That a million people are going to watch," I retorted.

She laughed a little but it wasn't the laugh she used on the show after a story would end on a funny note and then cut back to her, this was a natural, normal laugh.

"I'd be very disappointed if only a million watched. I think we are aiming for 4 to 5. But you have to remember to relax."

"You can't tell me that 4 million people are going to watch me and then tell me to relax. That's hardly fair."

It was nice to talk to Anna as if she was a real person. I mean it is usually safe to assume that people on TV aren't robots but it was good to see first hand that the professional, dry woman on TV could actually laugh like a normal person.

Before I knew it, we were all ready to begin. Tyler came over and I told him I was worried about my little-too-sexy attire and he assured me that I looked fine. Mum came over and wished me luck but said they couldn't watch the interview as there was a mountain of paperwork for them all to fill in and the producer, Reg had suggested that they do it while I was being interviewed. She suspected that he just wanted them out of his hair, which was probably right. Mum gets excited when someone breaks out a mobile phone camera, I'm sure the slew of TV cameras got her in an absolute tizzy. I swallowed hard, even though I had undergone the stress of the press conference a few days ago, it didn't make this feel any less stressful.
Anna must have noticed how nervous I was and leaned over to me. "Just relax. You're going to be great!" she whispered.

The director counted down from 5 and it started.

I reminded myself to be charming. And not to be boring. I smiled a lot, much more than my overall mood dictated. I was jovial and made jokes about being fine about asking for directions now and wanted to own more and more shoes.
When the questions got more serious so did I.
I think my generation has grown up with TV so prevalent in our lives that we instinctively knew how to behave in front of a camera. I had seen enough interviews that I almost was on autopilot answering the questions the best way I could think of. I teared up when I talked about when I first found out I had SGR and how scared I was, a smile broke through the tears when I talked about how much I admired my Mum and her strength and you could hear the disappointment in my voice when I recalled how I felt when I first looked in the mirror after my transformation was complete. Since I knew the women would be slighted too much if I sounded too repulsed at my new body, I remembered to placate them later on by reiterating that there is nothing that my old body can do that this new one cannot.

"So, are there babies in your future?" asked Anna Coren.

I had thought that question may come up. Nobody so far had asked me that but sometimes in the quiet of the night, my hand would brush past my vagina and I would think about what it was there for.

"Well, I haven't been female for nine months yet so the idea of being pregnant for nine months is a little scary," I told her and the camera and thus Australia, "When I was male I always wanted a big family when I grew up but now the tables have turned and I am rethinking that plan a little. Maybe I'll adopt. I'm only a kid myself, anyway, it's a long way off."

We talked for over an hour about a lot of things, my friends and family, what had changed and what stayed the same and my plans for the future. I told her I didn't understand the way bras hook up but I did appreciated the support they give, I talked about the presents people had sent me and how grateful I was, I talked about how I planned on going to uni the year after next and how sorry I felt for everyone who had undergone the SGR transformation without medical help. We talked for so long I knew that some of the things would not make it on TV. I relaxed and actually forgot that I was on my back porch overlooking the sea with eight guys pointing microphones and lights at me.
Anna wrapped it up and shook my hand.
Easiest $2.25 million I had ever made!

Mum and Nicole were ushered onto the set and Anna then interviewed all three of us. I thought I was done, but apparently not. They were going to get their money's worth. The interview with my family was slightly embarrassing and not only because both Mum and Nicole used the phrase 'Top-Heavy Taylor'. Mum talked about how proud she was of both of her kids and how she thought I was always destined for big things. Nicole said that she was proud of her little brother now sister and that she couldn't wait to teach me the finer points of being a woman.
And then the subject of the Deb Ball came up.

"She's made me very proud," Mum said, "Even though she refuses to do her Deb."

Anna Coren's eyes lit up, this was going to make for some good TV

"Refuses?" Anna asked.

"Staunchly!" Nicole added.

Where had Nicole learnt the word 'staunchly'?

"We have the perfect dress and all but Gemma doesn't want to wear any dresses of any kind. But the Deb Ball is perfect for her because it's all about introducing young women to society for the first time."

"Are you afraid to be introduced to society, Gemma?" Anna playfully probed.

"I think this interview is plenty introduction," I said, "Which is lucky because I don't have to wear a white satin dress and do ballroom dancing."

Mum addressed the camera directly, "People of Australia! If you think my daughter should do her Deb Ball…"

"Stop it, Mum!"

"Please write me a letter of a support and send it to Channel 7!"

I stared at Anna for help but she was too busy laughing to defend me.

"Thanks for the support, Coren" I sneered.

The interview with my friends didn't go much better.

"Just my luck that my male best friend gets a visit from the Boob Fairy and neglects to visit me," Dot teased me about 10 minutes in.

I shot her a dirty look but I'm sure people would find that funny too.

"With friends like these…" I grumbled.

"It's unsettling having your best friend turning into a pretty girl, but I think I'm coping really well," Glen inadvertently bragged.

Anna Coren thought she would get my friends take on the whole Deb issue, they didn't seem as fussed as my family did.

"Neither of us are doing it, either," Glen revealed, "And Dot flat out hates it."
"I just don't like that way it portrays women. It's old fashioned like chastity belts or a dowry."

I'm sure Anna Coren wanted some more playful teasing instead of the lecture about dowries. Dot wasn't about to conform to any of Coren's ideas about teenage girls.

On reflection it wasn't that painful, I guess. And it was over by one in the afternoon.
At least the interview part was. We had to shoot footage of us acting 'normal' after lunch to splice into the interview.

"Thanks so much, Gemma. You were a delight," TV's Anna Coren said to me as she shook my hand.

"Thank you," soon-to-be TV's Gemma Taylor answered.

"Good luck," Anna whispered to be as she left my house and probably my life.

Good luck is an interesting choice of a farewell as it implies that I might need her wishes to get me through a set of challenges.

For lunch we all helped ourselves to some sandwiches that the crew had brought. I had dreamed of a huge catering van with all sorts of food but it just proves that our house in Marrang could only be a smidgen show biz and not flashing lights and feasts. The crew was fairly quiet around me, so much so that it seemed bizarre, as if the director had warned them against talking to me. I didn't push it, I didn't want any of them getting in trouble.

"So, that was fun," Glen said as he hoed into his third round of sandwiches. "Enjoying all the food?"

"It's free isn't it?" he smiled as he scoffed down a large bite.

"Yeah, but it's probably coming out of my salary!" I said as I slapped his hand as he went for another.

"Oh yeah. How much are you being paid?"

I hadn't told anyone yet that I was going to be a millionaire by the end of the day.

"Let's just say it's enough that you'd consider selling your penis!" I slyly winked at him.

"I don't know I wouldn't cut off Little Glen for anything less than a million dollars."

I kept drinking my juice box.
"What? You got a million bucks for this interview!! That's ridiculous, tell me that's not true."

I remained tight lipped.

"I guess you can pay me back the $20 I leant you two weeks ago," he reminded me as he reached out, "And I'm taking another sandwich."

The afternoon was spent setting up 'normal' things for me to do and filming it. Me washing dishes, me playing on my computer, me and Dot walking along the beach and talking, me driving Mum's car with the 'L' plates on, Nicole playing with my hair, Glen and I shooting hoops in our front driveway. Just typical everyday stuff. The director wanted footage to put under the interview

"We can go swimming, if you want to film that?" Nicole suggested.

And so for the second time in two days I was stuffing my boobs back into my black swimsuit. Nicole wore a green bikini that was perhaps a little too revealing for her weight, Glen wore his board shorts and Dot and Mum sat on the dunes watching us. I skipped the shorts this time, knowing my legs and bikini area was hair free and jogged out to the beach.

The director has seen the body boards in our carport and thought that would make better footage so Nicole, Glen and I carried body boards with us into the sea. I was a little nervous that the cameraman was focussing on my butt but there was little I could do but grin and bear it. We had a lot of fun in the water, catching a wave and zipping towards the shore on the little boards. I didn't use the boards that often, since I was like 13 or something but they were a lot of fun. I'd try and catch Nicole or Glen or wave to them as I went flying past on the surf. If the cameraman didn't get a shot of my arse earlier I'm sure there was plenty of opportunities to get a lensful of my ample cleavage as I came hurtling towards the shore lying on the body board. There's a shot for the promo, I thought. It was good to see Mum keeping Dot company, Mum loves a good swim in the beach, especially if it is with Nicole and me. I'm not sure what they could talk about though as Dot and Mum are completely different types of women.

After our little swim Reg declared they had got enough footage of me behaving normal.

The truck were quickly packed up and "So, remember this Wednesday at 7.30," Reg reminded us of the airdate, "I promise that we'll do you justice, Gemma. You did a great interview so it shouldn't be that difficult turning it into a fine program."

He shook my hand firmly and the nice black car drove away, leaving our street as quiet as before the hubbub started.

*****

Popcorn, I think, was a little too much.
Mum had made popcorn for the big event, the airing of my interview.
Since filming it on Monday we hadn't seen a single frame of it, except for the ads, so everyone was pretty excited.
And by everyone I meant people with vaginas, it was a girls' night in with Mum, Nicole, Dot and I sat around the glowing box.
Since there were no men around, the talk naturally turned to Girls Only topics.

"It felt gross," I told everyone about my first real gynaecological exam, "Like they shouldn't be messing around in there. And they had these spoon things, which really should be heated up in the microwave first because they were so cold."

Mum retorted, "Get used to it, I've had one almost every year since I was about your age."

Nicole must have thought a conversation about cold spoons in people's vaginas wasn't crass enough so she said, "You were pregnant by Gemma's age, Mum. You had more than spoons in you!"

Nicole shrieked in laughter like she was one of the Sex in the City girls and I just looked at her in horror. Mum having sex with my Dad, getting pregnant by 17 and my Mum having a gynaecological exam were things I never ever wanted to think about. Dot must have read my mind because she tried to steer the conversation away from Nicole's comments,

"So, you were given a clean bill of health then?"

"Physically, yep. Annette has given me some 'mood stabilizers' because she doesn't like how flighty I can be. But I don't think she understands how big a change transforming into a girl is."

Dot scoffed, "Gemma, she specializes in SGR, I think if anyone knows, she does."

"That's what I told her!" Mum said, "Annette knows what she is talking about so take your happy pills and shut up!"

I liked it better when people always rushed to my defence, the longer I was out of the hospital the less people were likely to agree with me.

"Nicky, I forgot to tell you, we were followed by some paparazzi while me and Gem were buying clothes yesterday."

"Really?"

"Oh yes, the cheeky buggers would just walk with us from shop to shop taking pictures and calling out to us, I know how Princess Di feels now."

I'm sure Mum meant 'felt', my Mum may be a little slow with news but I'm sure word of Princess Diana's death had reached her foggy head. It was true though, the press was out to get some more pictures of us.
Unlike Mum I didn't feel like Princess Diana, I felt more like a commodity, being used for a few bucks by anyone with a decent camera. While I was more than happy for me to cash-in on the recent events, I thought it was a little unfair the other people could earn a bit of money by just standing next to me with a camera. And I was sure that those people would hang around until the money dried up, which I was hoping was soon because I didn't want my every trip to the shops to be a circus too.

Since we were now flushed with cash, Mum had made the first big purchase (aside from my new wardrobe, which was needed.)
We, like most people who find a large amount of disposable money, were the proud new owners of a big screen TV and DVD recorder. Mum had been a little silly too, getting a TV much too large for our TV room. It really was almost the size of the entire wall and was blisteringly bright. I was a little apprehensive about watching me on a TV bigger than I was, but I wasn't about to watch it by myself in the kitchen. Mum had got the man installing everything to teach her how to use the DVD recorder because she wanted to tape the interview. I told her Channel 7 would surely be quite happy to send her a copy but she thought it was easier having a man teach her four times how to use it.
I would have stuck around to learn too but I heard the guy call one of his friends that he was installing a TV at "Gemma Taylor's house, you know, that guy who became the hot chick" and that "her boobs are even bigger in person" and that was enough for me.

Channel 7 had been advertising the interview pretty hard and it seemed to be working, everyone I knew was planning on watching it. Although, the people I knew were not a fair section of the populace, all being fairly interested because they knew me directly. I was interested in seeing what they had come up with, since they only had two days to cut it all together. I was already fairly certain how they would portray me; as a spunky, little, hope-driven machine looking to make the world her very own with a wink and a smile. It was an attractive package to sell, but the truth was a little more depressing.

The mood stabilizers that Annette put me on were in an effort to stem my crying fits and although I was never violent, I was inconsolable for half an hour at a time. During those moments, I truly hated this body and I wanted to tear it off. I saw the crying fits as a horrible but necessary part of my dealing with it all, concentrating all of my depression into short daily gushes of hopelessness. Annette saw it as unhealthy. John Draffen supposedly went through them as well and the medication helped him too. I guess whatever was good enough for Draffen was good enough for me.

"Shhh," Nicole hushed nobody in particular, "It's starting!"

It opened with me talking about how being a girl wasn't going to stop me from achieving anything I want to in life, with shots of me reading, playing at the beach and look wistfully in the sky, exactly how I predicted it would start. Anna Coren walked into frame and talked to the people sitting at home how only days ago she had met a remarkable young woman. Remarkable was an interesting choice of words because two weeks ago I would have called myself unremarkable and totally unworthy of an hour of prime time set aside for an interview of me.
But times change.
Anna Coren then revealed to the audience that this 'remarkable' young woman was only a few short days ago a young man.

"Oooh," gushed Mum as another voice starts talking, "That's me!"

Mum's words were complimented with shots of me as my old self, lovingly pilfered from old home movies,

"Michael was always such a hopeful kid, you know? Always wandering around and looking at things differently to other people, you know? If anyone was going to get through this it was going to be him. He's a battler, you know?"

"Do I really say 'you know?' that often?"

"Shhh," Nicole said, seemingly because Mum talking was getting in the way of hearing Mum talking.

"She's doing a tremendous job being a girl," a peppier than normal Dot begins.

The real life Dot groaned and slumped in her chair, covering her face with her hands,

"Even better than me and I've been a girl all my life!"

"Michael has been my best friend all my life," Glen said, "And Michael's going to keep being my best friend forever," he then turns to me and asks, "Do I call you Michael or Gemma?"

I turn directly at him and look at him like a confused dog.

"I don't know."

"Because I'm going to be talking about you a lot for the next hour or so."

"I'd hope so," I joke, "Because this whole production is for me!"

"Whoa, don't get a big head or nothing! I'm going to call you Gemma because you don't look like a Michael to me."

"But I used to, right?"

"I think you looked more like a Charlie."

"You're an idiot!"

"It's freaking weird to have a brand new 17-year-old sister," Nicole practically yells at Anna, "But it's calming to know she's made out of my wonderful little brother."

"I look so fat!" Nicole shouted at the TV.

For the one who had done the most Shhing it appeared she felt she was exempt.

"No, you look great," I told her and Mum and Dot backed me up.

The program trudged on, now that it had introduced the main characters it went through the story, from me finding out to me doing the press conference. When they weren't using parts of the interview they were using other interviews from Dr. Chisholm, my Principal Mrs. Higgins among others. They even showed edited footage from the camera set in the examination room when I was literally transforming.

It was footage I'd never seen and to me it was quite disturbing watching my old reliable body slowly melt into my new form while Dr. Chisholm talked calmly over it. It was interesting however, because they weren't sure when my boy's chest became a girl's pair of tits and so had put up black censor bar covering my chest from the very start.

What was noticeable though was the absolute terror in my eyes.
Terror I was reminded of whenever I looked into the mirror.
There was still a hint of it.

The commercial breaks were spent answering text messages from my friends. The number of friends who message me since the transformation had grown exponentially but I always made sure to answer Glen, Kev, Ace and Holly before anyone else. I often had to field the question of when I was coming back to school and I always said that I wasn't sure, even though Annette said it would be healthy for me to return as soon as I wanted. Nicole was busy sending texts as well, to all her friends getting confirmation that she didn't look fat.

As I suspected they did show a lot of video of me in the swimsuit. I know that sex sells but I thought it was slightly tacky. The fact they used an extended shot of me, riding a body board down a wave, boobs spilling out seductively from my bathers rather prominently in the advertisements had prepared me for the worst but luckily they seemed to use titillation sparingly. Sure, they used me talking about my boobs over me talking about how threatened I felt by the press but they did let me talk about other things. Anyone trying to masturbate to the program would have to turn down the volume because nobody could beat off to me crying about how scared I was.

Overall, I was happy with the total product. It was Channel 7 so I knew it wasn't going to be of the highest journalistic standards but I didn't feel dirty after watching it either. I could have gone with the ABC and had Andrew Denton interview me but I wouldn't be a millionaire either. I mean I was in it almost entirely for the money so I was in no place to complain. I wondered why Draffen turned down all offers for an interview. Maybe he was stronger willed than me.

"It wasn't a Hertzog documentary but it wasn't horrible," was Dot's response to the program.

She laid on my beanbag and stared at the ceiling. I could almost see the thoughts rushing around her dark mysterious eyes

"It's a bit strange. Seeing the whole story unfold on TV really cements it. 'Michael' isn't coming back. You're going to be a girl for a really long time."

I sighed, lying on my bed, it was a long girly sigh,

"I'd put a bet on forever because nobody is really looking for a cure."

"That sucks."

"Tell me about it," I said, looking up at the tops of my breasts. "You know what else really cements the fact that this is all real?"

"Ummm… the fact that I'm almost fucking drowning in feminine undergarments over here?" Dot was referring to the numerous bags of clothes surrounding the beanbag, only some of which contained 'feminine undergarments'.

"No," I said as a pulled something out of my pocket and flung it at her, "This!"

"That's the same wallet you always had," Dot said, unimpressed.

"Open it."

Inside the wallet was my new Learner's permit and instead of Michael's geeky mug smiling awkwardly back at you, there was a picture of Gemma, not smiling but looking way more attractive. I hated that I didn't even need to try and I was a lot sexier as a girl then when I was a boy. I guess I just 'lucked-in' to some good genes. Maybe later on I would be happy that I was much more alluring now, but it seemed to bug me more than anything.

"Nice photo, Gemma Ward."

"Huh?"

"Gemma Ward, she's a supermodel."

"Never fucking heard of her."

"I'm not sure why I have."

"So, I'm legal to drive again."

"Yay!" Dot cheered sarcastically.

She hadn't even bothered to get her Learner's Permit yet.

"Went around yesterday and got all my paperwork to everything in the entire world changed to say female. That's pretty cemented."

"Everything? So, it's like you were never a guy?"

"Everything, even my birth certificate says I was born this way."

"Wow… so my previous best friend never actually existed!"

I was not about to get into another I am me and the same person as I've always been argument.

We laid back and let The Shins sing to us. It was late on a school night but Dot didn't seem to care that much.

"School's just not as fun without you anyway," Dot explained, "When are you coming back?"

"When I feel the transformation is complete," I said, finally answering the question honestly for the first time.

Dot didn't thing my honestly was clear enough,

"What do you mean 'complete'? You look pretty finished to me, Hootie."

"That's the second time you've called my Hootie!" I exclaimed, sounding as perplexed and annoyed at the same time..

"Oh, I thought I told you that Glen and I decided if you ever became a stripper that would be your stage name: Hootie McBoob,"

Dot smirked as if she was proud of herself. I didn't like it that Glen and Dot were talking about me behind my back but I guess the whole country was doing it, so I couldn't feel that angry.

"What would yours be?" I asked.

"I don't know. Umm… Flatsy McCoy?"

I laughed, maybe I should have more of a sense of humour about myself.

"Anyway," Dot said, "You got me off topic. What else needs completing, Hootie? You look like a mighty fine girl to me."

I paused while I tried to figure out the answer, I had a lot of trouble vocalising my response.

"A few things need to click into place before I feel I'm ready."

The response was cryptic enough without being completely baffling, hopefully that would keep her happy, I thought.

"You're talking about your sex drive, aren't you?"

Damn it! Maybe Dot knows me too well.

"You really want to be all horny before coming to school? Wearing your little dress? Flirting with all the boys?"
"No, that's not it at all. I just don't want to be standing at school, wearing the little dress when it all hits. The doctors say it might come all of a sudden and I don't want to be surrounded by boys when it does."

"Believe me, the boys at our school aren't that hot."

"To you, maybe, but you've had years of desensitisation. Annette told me yesterday that I may even find it disorientating. I've been without a sex drive for a week now."

"Wow, I have sex with you and I cure you of all desire."

Dot put her hands high in the air in victory.

"You wish! But the likelihood of me finding guys sexy is pretty high and that's going to creep me out. I would rather be home when that hits, you dig?"

"I dig."

Dot clambered out of the beanbag and jumped on the swivel chair.

"Maybe we could jump start it!" she said as she madly clicked around the computer screen with the mouse.

Dot was inspired.
She often did her best work when inspired.
Dot was easily the smartest student at Marrang College and because of that she rarely tried. Only when she was inspired did the glory of her brain in full flight become visible. It was an amazing thing to see.

This bout of inspiration, however, yielded very different results: Pictures of men, lots of them, in various states of undress and arousal.

"So much gay porn," Dot muttered as she sorted through the pictures, "I guess that there are more gay men than women looking for pics of hot guys on the internet."

I sat there, mesmerized by her tenacity.
After 5 minutes she had her selection all ready.

"OK, in an effort to speed things up and get you back to school being my best friend where you belong I have searched the net for pics of guys that turn me on," she announced, "Here's my plan. Before going to bed at night, study these pictures for a good 10 minutes. And feel free to rub yourself, here," she gestured to her bust, "or here," another gesture to her crotch.

"And that should do what?"

"I don't know, awaken some primal urge deep inside you or something," she pointed to a ruggedly handsome guy with his shirt off, "Are you sure he doesn't stir anything in your loins? He's got the 'V'!"

"My loins remain unstirred. What's the 'V'?"

She pointed to some very pronounced muscles in under his stomach.

"That's the 'V' it's like a pointer to the cock on the hottest of guys. It tells you that the guys are amazingly fit, you didn't have one," Dot teased. "Anyway, I'm going to leave this on as a slideshow and maybe by morning you'll be a raring to go man-hungry bimbo so that you can come back to school. Night Hootie!"

"Night Flatsy!"

She quietly snuck into the hall as not to wake my Mum, leaving a revolving slideshow of 'sexy' hunks illuminating my room.

I closed my eyes and tried to drain my head of her nonsense.

CHAPTER 13

There was a weird tingle in my pussy when I woke up.
I must be getting my period, I thought.
Gingerly, I gently rubbed the lips of the stranger between my legs.
It felt… nice
Nice like I hadn't thought before
Nice like I wasn't going to stop!
I was turned on!
I leapt out of bed and watched the parade of men on my computer screen.
I liked that guy's eyes.
I liked that guy's smile.
That guy has a great body!
Look at his magnificent cock!

My sex drive was back!!

Now I doubt that Dot's stupid plan worked and Annette seriously does too. We think it was just a coincident that the 'switch' flipped sometime while I was asleep during the night.But try telling Dot that, as far as she is concerned she awakened the Frankenstein's Monster that is my sexuality by force-feeding me porn.

Looking at the men was unquestionably having an effect on me. My nipples seemed to be as excited as me, begging to be allowed to join the festivities. I peeled off my T-shirt and let my bust sway majestically. My nipples demanded that I touch at least one of them, so I complied and sent my talented left hand up there to rub and squeeze and playfully twist while the right hand manned the computer mouse. What used to be a huge lump of fat to me now surged with sexual energy. My hand had just come to play with the nipple but soon it was enjoying the breast it sat on as well.

It hardly bothered me that to some people I was now 'gay', the pictures of well toned men were scratching an itch I feared would never be scratched again. I looked and I mean really looked at the sexy women blue-tacked to the walls. There was a little something, a fleeting feeling of arousal but hardly a flicker compared to how the men made me feel.

It was sad, knowing that a giggle and short skirt would never have the same effect on me again, that I would have to throw away my carefully arranged turn ons and start compiling a new list. I said a little prayer for all the girls I would never find attractive and went back to the enjoyment.

It was good to know I wasn't carrying these bowling balls strapped to my chest for no reason, when I became aroused they turned into miracle globes of pleasure. They suddenly felt very nice to touch and therefore I touched them a lot. I settled on one picture, he wasn't a muscles-stacked-to-the-rafters type or shot in some studio, it was a nicely toned, well-groomed man standing proudly letting his large cock swing between his legs. No showboating a massive erection, or flexing arrogantly, but a guy candidly standing by his bed, looking good and enjoying looking good. I don't know why I was so fascinated by him but I wasn't going to question it, I was just going to enjoy it.

I had came to a crossroads, do I keep chasing this feeling to its inevitable goal or do I stop and leave this momentous occasion for another time? It seemed foolish to book a hotel, load the car up, fill it up with petrol and drive all the way to the destination without getting out and having a look around so I locked my door and I moved myself over to the bed.

"Hi Miss Pussy," I whispered to it, as not to scare it as I slid off my boxer shorts, "We don't really know each other very well but I think we're ready for a bit of one on one time together."

I traced my finger around the outside, feeling the collected moisture.

"I'm as scared of you as you are of me, but personally I think we're going to be great friends. If you promise to let me enjoy this I promise to never ever let a baby come out of you."

My pussy remained silent but I am sure she was looking forward to this moment as much as I was.

The questions in my head scared me a little. Should I break out one of my toys or should I do this manually? Should I lay down a towel in case I'm a 'squirter'? Should I keep it quiet or was Mum working the early shift today? I decided that it was a very personal time for me and my new sex, so machinery should be left out until at least the second time, and since it was my first time I was going to be as loud as I needed. If people hear, that's fine with me I am proud of my new found sexuality. I lay on top of the bed, not wanting the sheets get in the way. I put a pillow under my bum and started to gently rub the outer folds of my pussy. It was exciting, I was about to become one of only a few people that would know what an orgasm felt for each gender.

I bit my bottom lip as the caressing intensified. I was pretty sure I had found the clitoris, it was extremely sensitive but in a way that I couldn't stop touching it. I rubbed it and my pussy had gotten quite lubricated. Even though we had nutted out an agreement my pussy wanted a thick penis inside of it. At least that was what I was picturing as I inserted my index finger. Inside me was warm and moist and it felt good to have something filling the void even if it was my own finger. I slowly slid my finger in and out, while my other hand rubbed my clit. I moaned, if Mum wasn't at work, she definitely would have heard that one.

Fuck! It felt good! While masturbating as a guy felt like you were desperate to expel something out of your body, the joy of female masturbation was the thrill of bringing something into the body, in my case, my index and now middle finger. My right hand returned to my breasts, apologising for leaving them alone for so long by lovingly tweaking the nipples.

My face went red as my fervour and the speed increased. The room smelt of sex, the same scent Dot had left behind after our little tryst. While by no means an expert, I was quite happy with my progress so far. This body was so alien to me, I was impressed at the speed I was pleasuring myself. In my reading that Annette had assigned, I read that quite a lot of women couldn't orgasm at all and here I was unlocking the secrets a few days in.

I surprised myself by making little, short mini-moans as I broke through another barrier. The end was in sight! All it needed was some deep concentration. My slippery fingers glided in and out of my sopping wet pussy. The fleshy walls around my fingers closed in, trying to draw in all the friction. My thumb rubbed up against my excited clit. My other hand cupped my breast. I was a machine with many, many moving parts all working together for a simple goal: to give me an orgasm. I moaned a weird, very feminine moan, one I had never made before. Glimpses of flashing images- naked men, oily muscles, engorged cocks, Tyler, my cute little body being violated, strong arms, broad shoulders, Kev's rippling body in his bathers, the 'V', guys with six-packs- flooded my mind, none lasting more than a fraction of a second.

It suddenly happened! Without warning, I was in freefall, my mind plunging deep into the warmth of the orgasm. My pussy tensed up around my fingers and I screamed in surprise. The scream dissolved into a nervous giggle as the pure pleasure dissipated a little. I continued to rub my privates, noting they weren't immediately tender like my male organ right after a climax, in fact everything felt ready to continue. Annette had talked about multiple orgasms briefly but I thought it might have been a very rare occurrence like an eclipse. They way I was feeling at the moment I was only minutes away from another orgasm. It is a beautiful gender that can realistically contemplate their next orgasm while still shivering from the previous one.

So, I had myself another orgasm.

The second was a little trickier and required more concentration but the reward was almost as sweet. I clutched the bed as if I could fall off and screamed my way through the amazing feeling. I may still be unhappy to be in this body but it's hard to argue against two mind-blowing orgasms before breakfast. It really is a wonderful way to start the day. I was just happy to have my sex drive back, I never realised it was so integral. Now that it was back colours seemed brighter, food tasted richer and music sounded better.

If I had to choose who had the better experience when it came to 'playing with oneself', it would be a tricky choice. For men it's so simple, up and down, in and out, back and forth, keep doing one of those things and eventually you have an orgasm on your hands. For me now, while I feel the rewards are better, it takes a lot more work to get there. You need to concentrate, and hit exact spots. Sure the whole region down there feels nice, but there are only one or two small spots that can achieve that incredible feeling.

I stretched out like a happy cat in the warm sun and writhed in celebration.

I had made my doona a little damp with my morning's activities but I'm sure it would dry. I had just participated solely in a momentous occasion but it would not be the last time, I thought to myself as I took my shower. Now that my body and I found something we could enjoy together everything didn't seem as bleak. I almost started again, right there in the shower but teaching myself self-control was as important as teaching myself to get good at masturbating.

Since I was pleased with my body, I decided to reward it. I covered it in silky undergarments, which felt very luxurious against my soft skin. On top of that went a plain T-shirt and shorts, so no one would ever know that underneath I was dressed very girly indeed. Not that anyone was around I was completely alone at home, both Nicole and Mum must have been at their jobs. I wandered around the house, trying to avoid doing any work. Sure there was dirty dishes in the sink, but I still traumatized by the transformation. I wondered how long I could play the 'traumatized' card before I would have to do some work, Annette was already pretty adamant I go back to school soon. But I am sure I would be quite happy to spend my days swimming, hanging with my friends and playing with myself for a long time to come. I was enjoying being lazy.

Laziness was the cause of me not reading a long e-mail Dr. Chisholm had sent me. Instead I just surfed the web, watched some movie trailers and downloaded some music. If laziness stopped me from doing work, curiosity made me type my own name into YouTube. I wasn't too surprised to see I yielded a few results Ace had already told me he watched the press conference. There were some news stories on me, people doing video blogs talking about me and the interview in full already uploaded. The most viewed video was me doing the press conference, but the second most viewed was something I was surprised about.

The video went for 43 seconds and featured me walking to the podium at the press conference, dropping my diary and then bending down to pick it up at which point it went into slow motion as for a few glorious seconds the public had an impressive view of my large, milky white breasts right down my top. The fact that some one had taken the time to make this video didn't surprise me very much, 6 billion people in the world, I'm sure some of them have an immense love of cleavage and a lot of time on their hands. What did shock me was the fact that that small video had racked up more than 80,000 views.

More people had seen that video than all the people I would meet in my life collectively. My breasts had been rated 4 stars which I wasn't sure if I should be proud or not.
There were comments too.
A brand new fan of mine, !_cArNaGe_! wrote, "so hot!!! anyone else want to motorboat those things?"
Charming.
FlamingMonkeyAttack wrote, "You guys are all sick! I don't care how hot she is She was a he."
Latinlover046 made the eloquent response, "I don't care that she used to be a dude, I just jerked off to that video… twice!"
"Not much of a butt," critiqued BigRedAndrew, "But boobs I could to get lost in between 4 dayz! I just wish that we could get PE girls half as hot as her here in America. None of them hold a candle to Gemma!"

To be honest, I was unsure if I was proud or repulsed. While there was a massive pile of reasons to feel disgusted, I found it tricky to shake a small but unmistakable feeling of pride, they were talking about me! Now, this may be an unusual reaction to have but for 17 years my looks had never really been commented on, let alone 437 times. I was totally unremarkable but now I was wrapped inside this new wrapping everyone seemed to have a remark, most of them very positive. I Googled myself. There were a lot of pages for Gemma Taylor but a few of them weren't me. I had that problem when I was called Michael, but it was a lot worse, namely because there are a lot more Michael Taylors out there and there was a hardly any website writing about me.

I stumbled onto a message board. "We're all fans of hot chicks here," it announced, "So it is with great pleasure I introduce you to Gemma Taylor." I scrolled down and there were pictures of me walking across the road to get to the press conference, walking to the podium, bending down to pick up my dropped diary, smiling at the podium. The poster from the message board continued, "Enjoyed?" he wrote, "Well, here's the kicker. She, a day before that was a guy! Born Michael Taylor in Marrang, Australia he caught PE earlier in the week. Here's what he used to look like." The picture was my school photo from last year, the one the newspapers were printing as a 'before' shot.

"Shit! That was a man? I've heard of man boobs," said the first response, "but these are MAN BOOBS! Aussie you say? Even the guys are way hotter over there!"

"This PE girl is smokin'! My dick says 'Yes' but my brain would be screaming 'NOOOO!' the whole time!" said another one. I was unsure why I kept reading, but I did. It was like I was invisible and I could hear conversations about me.

"I'm Australian and she's all over the news. My housemate saw the front page of the paper the other day and said who's the babe and I had to break the news to him." A few pages along there were more pictures posted of me, these one were of me and Nicole walking into the surf shop when we were bathers shopping, and then a few pages on stills taken from yesterday's interview, mostly ones of me in the swimsuit, leaning on the body board, spilling breasts everywhere.

"JESUS CHRIST! Nice post, man! I'd feel a lot less guilty at the moment if I was unaware that she's underage and used to be a guy."

Suddenly, I felt very cheeky as a plan came into my head.

I removed my T-shirt and bra, stood up against a wall, grabbed my digital camera and took a picture. Looking at the display I decided that the picture would do nicely, I had framed it perfectly. Within minutes I had uploaded it to the website saying, "Looky what I just found, a topless picture of little Miss Gemma Taylor!" Now, that might have been a very foolish thing to do, that is, if this picture had included my head. What the picture contained was a pair of very round, very pert and very anonymous boobs. Just one of probably millions of pictures like that floating around in the internet. The fact that nobody would believe me just added to the cheekiness.

I wasted the next few hours just surfing around. I read news sites about me, read a few blogs praising me for being so brave, others called me a slight against God. There was even a site dedicated to men who were desperate to catch SGR so that they could become women. They were very welcome to switch places with me. At one website, I was ranked number one in a list of the hottest victims of P.E, above a very pretty Russian woman with blonde hair and brown eyes that used to be a Russian man. The Chicago woman who was the first of us to be treated with the electronic pulse procedure was rated number 8, but honestly she wasn't that pretty. Actually from number 4 down they were fairly average looking women, but when there has been less than 35 men turn into women, and a lot of them over 40 and two of them were under 10 it was never going to be much of a beauty pageant.

I looked down the list of forced contestants. Though I had never met any of these women we all were bonded together. We had all undergone a very bizarre transformation against our will. None of us knew who had started this or why. All we collectively knew was that we were stuck. They all had already sat here in my position, female and scared. I wondered if they all had poked their new genitals with as much glee as I had earlier that day. Looking at the photos of these apparently very depressed women, I doubted it. Maybe some of them did, but definitely not all of them.

Having my sex drive back had made me a little loopy.

Before I would have never even considered putting a photo of my exposed breasts up on the net but today I had done it without even thinking. It was a sublimely stupid thing to do. They can tell where in the world you send stuff from and if someone checked to see where the photo came from they could figure out that it was possibly real and then things would really get crazy. I thought about taking it down, but decided to forget about it. I was just being paranoid.

The computer made a sound that almost sounded like a sigh of relief when I turned it off. Perhaps it was glad that I wasn't going to use it to make a bigger fool of myself, or maybe it didn't want to be left to show pictures of sexy men for hours again. Either way, it was off and I had the whole house to myself. I could do anything, the world was my oyster and there was nothing I couldn't do, that was until 1pm, when Annette was coming around to beg me to go to school.

I went for a swim, just me and the sea. Well, it was just me and the sea until I got out of the water and then another party joined in. They didn't really join in per se, more like watched from afar. Out of the corner of my eyes, hiding in the sand dunes, was a man with a camera. Paparazzi, I assumed.

There were several options available to me: I could go over there and asked him nicely for my privacy or I could go crazy at him and yell and scream or I could just pretend to not notice him. They were all viable choices. In the end I decided to ignore them, still firmly believing in the 'ignore them and they will ignore you' that you receive for bullies and snakes.

Casually I dried myself, making sure that the towel was 'accidentally' blocking his view. It was cool, I felt like James Bond being so covert, even though I resemble more of a Bond Girl. I kept the casual act up, playing ignorant to the shadowy figure. The whole thing made me feel like a celebrity, up to this point I had felt like a science experiment but the paparazzi and internet chat combined made me realise people were judging me based on my looks and were too interested in my personal life which, I guess, made me a celebrity.

"Enjoy your swim?" asked the woman waiting for me when I got back to the house.

"It was very refreshing, thank you Annette," I told her, "Is it OK if I go and change?"

"Go, change," she said, casually, "But after that we work, K? Life cannot always be one long party."

As I walked back to my bedroom I wondered if that was true.
For most people, yes you can't party all life long.
But I was rich and given the word I could be a lot richer.
Life could quite easily be a party for me.
And why not? I like parties.

"So, Miss Taylor, let's get you prepared for school!" said Annette, not for the first time.

"I'm not going to school," I answered.

She wasn't happy with that, she furrowed her brow and leaned forward as if she was my confidant and not someone I was forced to talk with.

"Now, we've been through this, you've almost already missed out on two weeks. The sooner you come back, the sooner you can start work and catch up," Annette had a lovely way of making things sound appealing.

I leaned forward, mimicking her mock sincerity. "I don't need to catch up," I told her plainly, "I'm quitting."

"WHAT?!?" said Mum when she got home from work.

Annette had forced me to tell her my plans and Mum seemed a little angrier than Annette was.

"I want to do some travelling instead. See the world, find myself."

"Find yourself? I'll give you a hint, Gem. You're right there! Of all the childish, stupid things…" Mum was using her angry voice that had a habit of ascending to a pitch that only some breeds of dog can hear.

"It's OK, it's not like we're poor. I'll take a bit of my money, see the world come back and figure out what I want to do then."

"I tell you what you want to do. Go back to school before I clip you 'round the back of the bloody head." Mum was not being very receptive of my ideas, "Gemma, do you really think I am going to let my 17 year old daughter waste a year of her life gallivanting around the world by herself? No chance, missy. Until you are 18 you are my property, you understand? I should fucking give you a tattoo the says 'Property of Mrs. Janet Taylor, do not touch until 18'."

Mum was being totally unfair, "Nicole dropped out of school when she was 17!"

"But Nicole had a plan, she had a hairdressing apprenticeship! All you want to do is get on a plane and waste all our money."

I suddenly saw what this was all about, Mum could rush out and buy a giant TV, but me spending a small amount of the fortune that I earned was out of the question.

"Our money? I'm pretty sure it's my money, Mum. I was the one who went through the incredibly distressing transformation. I didn't even want the big TV."

Mum paced up and down the kitchen, as she was prone to do when angry. Annette, who had started the fight, sat there painfully quiet, almost as if her job wasn't to make sure I was having a 'smooth transition'.

"Now listen up, Gemma Mae Taylor," my mother announced, "I've been fairly relaxed with you but not anymore. You're going to learn some authority. Here's how things are going to happen: Tomorrow morning at 8:30, you will be here in the kitchen, wearing your pretty, new school uniform ready to go to school. We will repeat this everyday until next year when you graduate, after that you can do whatever the hell you want. But until you finish high school, I own you."

Mum was really angry, the sort of anger usually reserved for Nicole when she messed up. I was the favourite child, the child who was still at school, the child with the good marks, the child who was singing beautifully onstage and didn't take 'booze' money out of Mum's wallet without asking. I must have hit a raw nerve but Mum was always talking about giving us opportunities that she didn't have at our age and here I was, 17 and rich enough to spend a year travelling the world and discovering who I am, essential since my concept of identity had just had a major shake up. When Mum was my age, she had dropped out of school because she was pregnant with Nicole. It's not like I couldn't finish school, I could return after my year off unlike Mum who had to look after a baby.

Despite shouting, Mum didn't hear a word I said. She was livid and red and fuming. She kept referring to me as 'Gemma Mae Taylor' and 'Little Missy' and did not mention my SGR once, as if I was the real problem and it had nothing to do with it. But it had everything to do with it! If I weren't falsely imprisoned in this body then I wouldn't feel the dire urge to escape. I wasn't the problem, this shorter, curvier wrapping was.

I stormed off to my room, as gloomy and aggressive as a real storm. The door slammed behind my like a thunderclap and the tears poured down like a torrential rain. I hoped Annette was happy, she had gotten me 'grounded', a term never used by my mother ever. 'Grounded' was for TV's 'Moms' in American sit-coms for misbehaving pre-pubescents, not parents of teenagers that were 11-months shy of being a legal adult. I felt thoroughly stuck. I was stuck in this country, I was stuck in this house, I was stuck in the room and most importantly I was stuck in this body.

I hadn't even gotten to share the news that I had become a woman, sexually. I'm sure most parents dread the moment their precious little girls start noticing boys but Mum had been counting down the days until we could share gossip of who we think is cute. Well, if maybe she had turned down her rage a little, we might have been able to have a civilised conversation. I can't believe she had flown off the handle so bad at one little idea. Sure, I had presented the idea with a fair amount of conviction but it was still open to discussion. She did nothing to persuade me that going through the torment of school while learning who I've become was a good idea. All she did was shout me into my room. I cried into my previously tear-stained pillow and turned my iPod all the way up, filling every second with as much sound as possible.

My dinner remained uneaten and my mother's requests to come out for dinner remained unanswered. I needed some alone time and had locked the door to provide me some.
Me locking my door was a big deal, as I never really locked it.
Day or night, anyone who wanted to come in, did. Nicole wanted to borrow a DVD, she just walked right in. Mum wanted some chores done, in she comes. The only real time I locked my door was when I was having a wank and I was so upset that the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.

Let's just say I wasn't in my 'pretty, new school uniform' waiting in the kitchen to be taken to school by Mum the next day. I stayed behind the locked door. That didn't make my mum very happy. She knocked on the door three times before muttering, "I'm not angry, Gem. Just very disappointed."

That hurt. If she was angry at least I could be angry back, disappointed meant I just felt like a total heel.

My bags sat by the door ready for Nicole to pick me up.
I had called up and pleaded with her and she said she would take an extended lunch break and pick me up. I found calling myself her 'little sis' helped me get my way. I made a double check that I had everything because I wanted to be prepared for any situation. There was one last thing to do before I left. I quickly jotted down a message for Mum:

Mum,
Sorry I've been acting like a little bitch, it's not how you raised me. You raised a boy, so you can understand why I've been confused lately. I'm going away for the weekend, just to be alone. I'm not turning my phone on so don't try and call it. I just want you to know that I'll be waiting in the kitchen, ready to go to school first thing Monday morning.
I love you,
Gemma

The two short blasts on the horn alerted me that Nicole was out the front. I put the letter on the kitchen table, picked up my backpack and ran out to the car. It was another blistering hot February day in a long line of blistering hot February days. Because of that I was wearing my trademark shorts and a tank top. Not ideal for where I was going but I should OK.

"Mum is going to be so pissed off," Nicole said as I opened the car door.

"It's OK, I wrote her a letter. It's not like I'm running away, I'm just going on a little trip."

"But still, you should have asked."

"If I did that she would have said no. I'm 'grounded' remember, I'm not supposed to leave the house."

Nicole drove a little too fast over a speed bump and all four breasts in the car jiggled enormously. Bras only did so much, I figured out.

"Left here and straight out onto the highway," I told Nicole.

"You should have invited Dot or someone to come with you. Is it safe to be out there alone?"

"Yeah," I answered, "I've been there alone there twice already by myself and Mum didn't have a problem then."

"But you were a boy."

"How is that different?" I asked.

I have noticed people are all for this boy and girls are totally equal business until something remotely physical comes along and then it seemed that even the unhealthiest male is better than a girl. The truth is, this female body feels a hell of a lot better than my old body. I feel more energised, most flexible and even though I am probably not, stronger. If I could handle a little camping trip as Michael, Gemma would be fine.

Nicole dropped me off in the national park's car park. The campsite was about a 7km walk from there, nothing too strenuous.

"Now, I'll see you back here at 5pm on Sunday, OK?"

"OK. Please don't tell Mum where I am, I don't want her driving all the way out here to get me."

"OK, but you owe me one."

Now, to most people 'you owe me one' is just a figure of speech but not to the Taylor family. Not only do we keep a record of who owes whom but it is its own currency. But by owing someone you knew that you would have to perform a favour in return. And owing Nicole one usually meant there was going to be a lot of work.

"Fine. Have a good weekend, sis."

"You too." She beeped her horn as she skidded off into the distance.

And finally I was alone.
No Annette to drone on at me, no Mum to get angry with me for no reason, no Dot to be teased by, no Glen to feel awkward by and now no Nicole to give me beauty hints.

It was just me, my thoughts and my heavy, heavy backpack.
Now I was unsure if I had packed too much or I really was weaker than I felt but the backpack did feel quite heavy. Not 'I'll never make this distance' heavy more of a 'My back is going to kill me' heavy.
But despite that, I began the hike.

It was so refreshing to be alone with my thoughts in the beauty of the bush. Even in the middle of the drought we were in, the bush was still a fascinating place. As amazing as it is to look at, it's not the most incredible place, aurally. Luckily, I brought my Ipod with me. I slipped on the headphones and let my music complement the beauty surrounding me. The bush has a wonderful calming effect and several minutes into my hike I forgot about my Mum, my weird body and my problems, even the constant bouncing feeling coming from my chest didn't bother me. The only thing that bothered me was the threat of snakes, but even that didn't stop me from smiling.

The hike to the campsite was a mild one, there weren't a lot of obstacles to climb or steep inclines. It was more of a pleasant walk than a punishing one.
I had travelled down to this campsite a few times in my life.
My old primary school friend, Alan had shown me it. His whole family used to camp there a lot before he moved away.
Then I would beg Mum to take Glen, the Madsen boys and I there a few times a year for the last couple of years.
Even Dot came once
The national park was upstaged by a lot more 'fancy' parks in the nearby area so you almost always had the campsite all to yourself. It was the perfect place to unwind and figure out the answer to some of my life's more pressing questions.

It also had an amazing view of the ocean, and a small winding path that leads you to the best beach in the entire region. I always had a good time there and was anxious to set up my tent and lie back letting the world pass me by in absolute seclusion. I was right about the backpack, my back was feeling some pain as I neared the summit of the hill where the site is. I would have been happy to rest for a little while, since I was sweating like a pig in the summer sun but I was almost there! What was worse, I was fairly sure I had developed some blisters on my feet. You are supposed to wear worn-in shoes whenever you go on a hike, but I had only worn sandals since the change so my sneakers, while cute, were attacking the soles of my feet with vigour.

I was a sweaty mess as I strode towards the top of the hill.
The sun and I had battled it out all of the way and I felt victorious.
My plans changed.

I would save erecting the tent until later in the afternoon, my first order of business would be stripping off, changing into my bathers and going for a well earned swim. I could almost feel the cool salty water surrounding my body, draining my of all my stress and…

"Bloody hell!" said someone else in a weird voice.

I guess I wasn't alone.

CHAPTER 14

"Sorry," apologised the weird voice, "I thought we were alone here. Wasn't expecting anyone else."

I figured out why the voice sounded weird, it had an accent. An English accent I guessed, not a hoity-toity 'cucumber sandwiches' English accent or a Victorian era chimney sweep but a normal middle accent. It belonged to a guy, scruffy 'fashionable' hair and goatee, around 20, very tall and bulky, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts.

"I didn't think anyone else knew about this place," I told him, suddenly aware of my gender once more with the way he looked at me.

"Yeah, it's a real little slice of heaven here, isn't it? My name's Terry by the way."

I could tell from the way he looked at me he wasn't aware of who I was, if he was a backpacker he probably didn't bother reading the papers and he probably didn't have a chance to see any TV.

"I'm Gemma Taylor," I told him and there was no flash of recognition, I was in the clear, there were going to be no 'Did it hurt?' questions.

"So, me and my mate have just been travelling around your fine country since November, safely avoiding the winter back home. Seen it all; Sydney, Brisbane, Cairns, Ayres Rock, Melbourne. Heading home on Tuesday, so we thought we cram in some serious surfing in a nice secluded spot before we left. Been here two nights already, we'll leave for Melbourne on Monday. Having a great time."

Terry smiled all the way through his story. He seemed like a very jovial guy and while I was hoping for complete isolation to get my thoughts in order, being in the company of two British backpackers who knew nothing of the saga that is Gemma Taylor might be a healthy way to spend some time too.

"So, where is your friend?" I asked.

"Oh, he's out still surfing. It was getting too hot for me so I got out ages ago but he's mad. Especially today."

I asked the obvious question.

"Oh, because it's his birthday! We brought a shitload of alcohol to celebrate tonight. So if you want to join us?"

I nodded, there was another way to forget all my problems. I heaved the backpack off my shoulders and let it drop to the ground, there was nothing breakable in there anyway. I suddenly felt so much lighter and gasped in relief.

"Man, that feels good!" I said a little too loudly.

"Heavy, huh?"

"Oh yeah," I moaned, rolling my head around in an effort to loosen my neck up.

"Want a beer?"

It was a perfectly timed offer so I accepted it. He opened the Esky and pulled out a stubby, opened it and handed it to me. I thanked him and rolled the cool bottle over my forehead and let out a sigh. I never had liked beer, I heard most people learn to love it at university when they go out to bars and can't afford to get drunk on the more expensive mixed drinks. It was an acquired taste, and one I hadn't really acquired yet but it was extremely refreshing. I must have sucked back at least half the bottle in one go.

"Thirsty, huh?"

"Oh yeah."

We sat and talked for a while, well, mainly he talked and I listened. He told me stories about his trip and the crazy adventures him and his friend, 'Monster' had got up to. A lot of his stories revolved around their efforts to attract Aussie girls in various levels of intoxications and the failures.

"We thought two English blokes were going to be exotic to you Aussie girls, but it turns out every other bastard and his dog has the same idea and have rushed out here," Terry bemoaned.

I enjoyed being treated like a normal person for a change, and not like some mixed-up deformed creature. Sure, I was being treated like a girl with lusty stares and gentle flirting, but least he didn't see me as a freak.
There was a noise in the distance and Terry jumped up, "Hey I've got a funny idea. You go and hide in the tent, OK?"

I was picked up by his mischievous enthusiasm, nodded and jumped into his tent.

I sat silently as I waited for the plan to unfurl, I was unaware of the details of the plan other than it was 'funny'. The tent was roomy, two guys in a tent for four. It wasn't high enough to stand up in but it was high enough not to have to crawl around, much more cosy than my old, decrepit tent too. I laid on my belly, with my feet swinging in the air, listening to the rustling sound getting closer.

"Hey birthday dude," Terry said, "Finally out, huh?"

"Yeah, I've had enough for one day," said a second English accent, "Awesome little beach though, not another soul for miles."

"A real paradise," agreed Terry, "So you ready for your present?"

"You got me something?"

"Yeah, it's in the tent."

Ah ha! I was finally aware of the plan. It wasn't the funniest joke in the world but it might give 'Monster' a bit of a scare. I pondered why he was named monster and concluded he was probably ugly or at least really hairy. Guys aren't usually very cryptic with nicknames, it was either a variation of your last name or a one-word summation of your personality or looks. As long as he was as nice as Terry, I didn't care what he looked like.

"Awesome! I didn't expect you to get me a present, you bought all the booze," Monster sounded genuinely touched.

However, Terry was getting impatient, "Just go in and get it, I wanna see if you like it."

The zipper whined as it flew up the zip and the flaps rustled.
I prepared myself, trying to look as sexy as possible.
'Monster' crawled into the tent.

"Happy birthday!" I cooed with a mixture of one part seduction and four parts giggling idiot.

"Whoa!" he said as he stumbled back, falling back onto his back, but since he was only crawling it wasn't that bad of a fall.
I laughed and heard Terry cackling like a super villain.
Monster composed himself, sat back up and stared into my eyes. "Hi. Aren't you a nice present? Do you want me to unwrap you now or later?"

It was only because he was English and sounded a bit like James Bond as he said it that he got away with such a corny line.

Monster was not called so for his looks at all, he was called Monster because his name was Robert Cooke and people called him 'The Cookie Monster' which was later shortened to just 'Monster'. Truth be told, he didn't look monstrous at all. He was fairly short, shorter than the average guy, but still had a inch or three over me, his dirty blonde hair was messy in the 'fashionable' way too and he had a face that was sweet enough to impress your mother but with a glint in the eye that you knew that as soon as he charmed mother he was going to misbehave badly. He crawled into the tent with his wetsuit hanging off him, just above his hips so my new sex drive got a thrill when I saw his torso. Picking fruit and surfing must have agreed with him because his stomach was nicely muscled and his pecs made my nipples tingle in a funny way.
He told me I could call him Rob, if I wanted.

"So what brings you here, Gemma?" Rob asked me as he handed me another beer.

I remembered how last time I had rubbed the cold bottle against my forehead and thought that was a pretty sexy thing to do. For some reason, impressing Rob was high on my list of things to do so in an effort to excite him I rolled the bottle over my tight little tummy before slowly bringing up to my lips. If it seems a little ham-fisted and over the top to you, don't worry, Rob seemed to think it was just dandy.

"I'm just here to chill out," I said, trying to sound mature and casual, "I live in Marrang which is like 40 minutes down the road, so I've just come up to have a peaceful weekend before I ran into you two Poms."

"Sorry for wrecking your plans," he said with a smile

"Sorry for crashing your birthday party. How old are you turning?"

"I'm 22 today, an old man. How old are you?"

Shit! Don't tell them your real age! I'm much too young for them. If you tell them 17 the conversation will slowly wither away to nothing.

"19," I squeaked.

"Cool," he answered.

I lied a little more to the British boys. I didn't want to lie to them but the truth would have them running into the bush screaming. I told them I was starting first year uni this month in Melbourne, studying business (a boring enough course so that they wouldn't have many follow up questions) and that my boyfriend was gigging with his band out of town this weekend. I thought it was important to make up a boyfriend, just so the boys didn't fool themselves into thinking I might be up for some 'fun' over the weekend. Sure, they were nice to look at but I barely knew how to work this body and was no way ready to experiment using other people. The boyfriend in the rock band sounded a bit too cliché after I had talked about it for a while, so I made sure that I added that the band was lousy. Which makes sense because there's no chance a band called 'The Tiny, Tiny Shoes' could be any good at all.

Rob walked around with his shirt off all day. I'm not sure if he was doing that to try and impress me but that was definitely one of the side effects. Even if I was still a guy I would have been impressed of his well-sculpted body. Although I did think all guys who walked around with their shirts off were total posers. But Ron didn't appear to be a poser to me, just a relaxed guy who didn't feel the need to put on a shirt on such a hot day. Dot would have liked him, he had the muscle 'V' at the bottom of his stomach.

I set up an experiment.

"I really want to go swimming," I announced, "but I haven't set up my tent yet."

"Don't worry 'bout that. We'll set up your tent. Go and have a swim," Terry said, almost automatically.

"That's so sweet. Thanks a lot!"

Just as I thought, I had gained superpowers, namely the power to control all men. I had once been victim of that very same power, Holly could make me do anything she wanted and usually she wanted me to do some heavy lifting or something that involved a lot of waiting around. But the shoe was on the other foot now, I had been a victim but now I was in control. All I needed was a pout, or a smile and all men were putty in my hands. Sadly, my powers were worthless in my home full of women. I would have to rely on the undependable power of pity, a power that was working less and less as they got steadily fed up with me.

"Do you mind if I get changed into my togs in your tent?" I asked the guys as I rummaged around the bag for my bathers.

"Go right ahead," said Rob, "What's ours is yours."

I grimaced as I grabbed a bundle of stuff and marched into their tent. Changing into a swimsuit is tricky when you can't stand up. It's tricky to know if things are going to sit right when you are lying down. But I did my best. I also didn't have a mirror to see if I looked OK. I really didn't think to pack a mirror, as I didn't expect to see anyone all weekend. But I passed the spot check I gave myself and prepared to exit the tent.

I had forgotten about my situation. I really didn't think I would see anyone this weekend. I blame my laziness for the pickle I was now in. If I had bothered to hang my black bathers up after swimming yesterday and not have left them on the bathroom floor they would have been dry when I packed my bag this morning and I wouldn't have had to pack the only other swimsuit I owned: the little, skimpy pink bikini that Nicole had picked out for me. My feminine superpowers were about to be amplified ten fold.

Luckily, I found a reason to stall as I saw a tube of sunscreen sitting on top of someone's bag. I would certainly have to put some on before stepping outside in these poor excuse for clothes. I started on my face, rubbing it in all over. My nose felt tiny, even to my new small hands. I continued down the body, arms, boobs tummy, legs, etc. I was relieved to find out that I was flexible enough to get all of my back, so that I wouldn't have to plead with the boys for a little help. It was all already embarrassing enough that I was dressed like this. I was worried that my little bum was too exposed, the material back there hiding in the crack of my butt instead of covering it. For a little more protection from the sun, but mostly from the roving eyes I tugged my denim cut offs back on.

Now I was ready to exit the tent.

It was immediately obvious that the boys liked what they saw as I emerged. I couldn't blame them, since I was a male only about 2 weeks before. I remember what turned me on, and seeing a shy, overdeveloped teenage girl emerge from the tent you sleep in wearing nothing much more than a tight pair of shorts, a minuscule pink bikini top and a nervous smile would have been enough to give me a boner for life.

"The tent is in the bottom of my pack," I told them nonchalantly as if I didn't notice I was being ogled to within an inch of my life.
My boobs needed adjusting so I fiddled with them as the guys rifled through my pack to get to the tent.
Out came my clothes, an embarrassing assortment of little tops, bottoms, frilly underwear and even some thong panties Mum had begged me to try.
I tried to act casual, like I didn't mind them touching my clothes as if my fictional boyfriend would do it all the time.

I had not thought it through when I had gave the British boys my pack to unpack. I had forgotten what I had packed in it. Sure, seeing my intimate apparel was uncomfortable enough but when Terry brought out the long, thin weird shaped object out of my bag I was mortified. It was the vibrator Annette had got me. It was a 'rabbit' and Dot said they were amazing, I hadn't tried it yet but I had ideas about tonight, lying out in the bush. But that was when I thought I was going to have the whole campsite to myself.
Terry held it like it was an unexploded grenade and his eyes bulged out of his skull. If I could act casual through this I would earn a lifetime achievement Oscar.

"What?" I said as laid-back as I could muster, "I thought I was going to be alone."

Running away seemed to be the only viable option after barely surviving a truly embarrassing moment like that. I mumbled something about really needing a swim and I scurried away down the path. It was a rather steep decline down to the private little beach but it was so worth the effort. All the way down the sea calls to you, singing its siren song. Even the sand feels luxuriously soft between your toes like you are walking on a blanket. While the beach behind my house was delightful, this one was my favourite beach.

The snap buttons on my fly popped off one by one and I let my cut offs hit the ground. I was right to wear the shorts in front of the boys because these bottoms left nothing to the imagination. And I needed them to have something to think about while they assembled my tent. The bottoms were what Nicole called a Brazilian cut which she said would be perfect for enhancing my bum, which she said was the only area she had me beat. I whinged that it gave me a wedgie and she said it was supposed to. I tugged at it to try and get it to sit right but it stayed firmly half in my bum, half out. I began stretching, which is very important to do before you go swimming. If you don't you could cramp up and then you would be in a lot of trouble.

Me doing stretches in my pretty, little half-thong wasn't supposed to be seen by anyone.
The fact I was alone meant I went the whole hog, no compromises for modesty's sake. I was bent over, touching my toes when I felt two sets of eyes on me.

"Go on, don't mind us," joked Rob.

To them I must seem like complete nympho, there I was all alone, standing in the perfect position to be taken from behind. They didn't know of my stretching regiment and how I didn't want to drown. Well, I assume they could probably guess that I didn't want to drown.

"We thought we'd join you for a bit of a splash around," Terry said and he laid out a beach towel beside mine.

Not to be outdone, Rob took his towel and spread it out on the other side of mine, "We'll do your tent later."
They both reclined on their towels drinking a beer and stared out at the view of the sea and me. Since I had only begun my stretches I felt compelled to finish them, although I didn't keep my bum pointed away from them as much as I could.

"Are you doing Ti Chi?" asked Rob.

"No," I told him, "Just stretching so I don't get a cramp."

"Oh."

"You don't have to watch, feel free to start frolicking without me," I said as I realized that by not exposing my bum, I was showing off a fair bit of boob.

A girl can't win.

"But we like watching," Terry confessed.

I thought about the situation. Here I was dressed in a provocative manner, doing provocative moves in full view of some attractive member of the opposite sex who were giving me their full attention. If the genders were swapped and I was male again, stretching in front of two attractive girls I would have been overjoyed that they were enjoying the show. But now I felt a little nervous to be so wanted. I could see the pleasure in their eyes, even through their sunglasses. While they were not predatory in any way, I still felt like a piece of meat. I cut my stretching short, but it didn't lead to me drowning.

"Well, I'm warmed up enough," I told my new friends.

"Us too," joked Terry.

"I don't know about you," I said, turning around "but I'm off for a swim."

I felt their eyes watching my bum all the way into the water but there was nothing I could do about it, I would look pretty stupid backing up all the way. I suddenly felt some compassion for the girl in the 'Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini' song who was too scared to come out of the water. I always thought she was stupid for putting it on in the first place, she must have known how sexy it looked when she put it on. It felt a little foolish being so shy when I knew how sexy I looked. I had no reason to be shy, they thought I was a girl and they liked me.
And after this weekend they would never see me again.
It was as my arse disappeared from view under the water that I decided I would no longer be shy.
I was the owner of this body and these weird new feelings and it was time to embrace them.

The water was warm and waves were nonexistent, it was apparent why Rob had given up surfing for the day.
The ocean was as flat as I was curvy.
It was the perfect condition for some playful splashing, which started as soon as Terry edged towards the water.
I ran over to him and kicked up the torrent of spray, drenching him completely.
Terry had taken his shirt off too and while there was no six-pack to speak of he still looked good to me. I wondered if I had been wired up wrong and thus found all guys attractive or if all girls felt the same amount of attraction as me.
Maybe I was just getting used to it.

"You naughty girl!" Terry said as he tried to retaliate, I was too quick and easily avoided the water he kicked up at me.

"Missed me!" I teased.

"Monster!" he called out to his friend, "Give Gemma here a thorough soaking, would you?"

I turned around to see that Rob was packing a large overpowered water pistol. He fired. I gave a long, particularly girly scream as Rob unloaded a powerful jet of water all over me.

"Give me the gun," I whispered to Rob my strategy, "I'm going to get Terry good!"

I outstretched my arms to show him how eager I was.

Rob handed me the pistol and as soon as my fingers were in place, I yelled, "Sucked in!" and proceeded to squirt Rob good.

His surprise turned into mock rage and he started advancing on me.
I had to run, "Oi! Terry! Catch!"

I tossed the water gun high into the air and began to sprint.
But as soon as he had the gun, Terry turned on me, pulling the trigger and hitting me on my back.
I was seriously being ganged up on.
Rob was chasing me and Terry was laughing manically as he was squirting my back.

I swung my arm back across the top of the water, sending up a spray that got my pursuer. But it did little to slow him down, Rob tackled me, making me fall into the awaiting sea.
Underwater we became a tangled mess of limbs and torsos. His hands brushed my arse, tummy and one boob, whether or not on purpose was hard to detect because there was a lot of thrashing about.
I mean I was about to damn his wandering hands, because I have no idea where I touched him with my whipping around.
As soon as I found my feet, Terry was standing over me, ready to shoot me again.

I pleaded with him, "I surrender, I surrender!"

"So we win?" asked Rob who was ready to toss me back into the water again.

"Well, yeah. But you weren't playing fucking fair!" My protests sounded way too cute for my liking.

The day was hot, the water was cool and the company was great. With perfect conditions like that it seemed impossible to get out of the water. We mucked around and we swam, we lay around and floated about. The boys tried to impress me with their stunts, doing somersaults off of rocks and I rewarded them by letting them help reapply my sunscreen.

My plan to forget my problems was working, very well. I hadn't though about them at all.In this little part of the world the gender-confused national celebrity Gemma Taylor ceased to exist, instead she was replaced by a playful and confident 19-year-old girl whose name just happened Gemma too. It was like I was on holiday from hating myself. I knew I hadn't escaped it, as soon as I returned to the 'real world' the problems would return too. So, my plan was to enjoy this carefree freedom as much as I could before I was forced to turn around and face my real life.

The boys were completely fooled. They were absolutely convinced that I was a 19-year-old girl, although I must admit my disguise was perfect, I even had a fully operational vagina to trick them. I just hoped that I wouldn't do something wrong and they would twig that something was amiss. So because of that fear, I think I was trying a little too hard to appear calm and in control. The waves were decent again so the boys had decided to break out the surfboards again. I wasn't that good a surfer when I was male so I passed at the offer to join them, opting to sunbathe and write in my journal instead.

One thing I knew about mature girls was that they hated tan lines. Tan lines are the mortal enemy of the girl and thus my new nemesis. As I turned to lay on my stomach, I reached around and undid my bikini top. I hadn't taken much notice of what girls did after they undid their tops. Did they remove it completely or just moved the straps from leaving an imprint? Undecided, I pulled it off entirely, just in case.

I looked down at the sight, the boys over there on their surfboards didn't know what they were missing. In saying that, I didn't get much of a sexual thrill looking at them, mainly because they were hanging off my body. But I did admire their shape and size, which without me bragging were both very, very impressive. There are some girls whose centrepiece is their bust. They may have shapely legs, a cute bum, a gorgeous face or tremendous body (all of which I seemed to be blessed/cursed with) but the main focal point is the impressiveness of their breasts. Nicole and Mum were like that, Leanne from school was like that and I believe that I too, fell into that category.

And so, I laid there, writing about myself in my journal.
I had filled up a few pages by now and had even attempted a few drawings.
It was the place I could out all the thoughts I was scared to say out loud - that I was terrified of being a girl, that in my darker moments I had thought dying would be better, that I was never going to have a baby and that the thought of an erect penis turned me on. They were all scary thoughts in some regard and writing them out was a way of getting them out without having people looking at me weird.

I sat up, covered my nipples with my arm and walked over to the Esky.
I took out a beer and looked around for the bottle opener.
It must have been in the bag they brought down with them since it didn't appear to be near the Esky. I made sure I wasn't facing the water, removed my nipple-covering arm and began to rummage. My main focal points bounced around as I delved into their bag. Ipod, sunscreen, a tatty old book, sunglasses, cigarettes, lighter… box of condoms? They were dreaming if they thought they might need them here on the beach, or at all this weekend, unless maybe a real 19-year-old hottie also stumbled onto their campsite and what are the chances of that happening?

The lid flicked off, landed in the sand and the cold, refreshing liquid trickled into my mouth. I sat and watched the boys wait for waves, again covering my nipples with my arm. Surfing seemed to me a lot like fishing, a lot of waiting around before things get interesting and there is always the chance you could go home empty handed.
I never had the patience for either.
So I rolled over and restarted my writing.

It was starting to get dark as we climbed back up to the campsite.
The sun had given up and was calling it a night.
Terry and Rob had given up surfing a while back and we all had a splash around and a quick round of beach cricket. It's heart-warming to know you can meet two strangers at 2pm and by 8pm they can be your good friends. It's a little less heart-warming to notice your good friends are staring at your erect nipples through your bikini. As soon as we reached the campsite I jogged over to my bag and put on a tank top to cover up. That might stop some of the staring, I figured.
Not to say that I wasn't doing some staring of my own.
My attraction to men was still new and my nipples were erect for a reason.

The boys excused themselves and they walked to the edge of the grounds.
There was a pause in their ruckus and the following sound was the noise of running water. They were both pissing. The noise suddenly reminded my body that I needed to go too. I sat there and remembered that I was no longer equipped to piss easily. I groaned and started to walk towards the scrub.

"Gemma! Where are you going?" asked of the boys as they came back.

"Nature's calling," I explained.

I was shy of my new parts, so I probably walked a little further than I needed to successfully hide myself. I tugged down my shorts and bikini bottoms and stepped out of them. I wasn't sure what was going to happen and I didn't want to get them wet. And so, naked from the waist down, I squatted. The feeling washed over me and a steady stream of urine came out. This did not rate up there as one of the best moments to be a girl, I felt exposed, frustrated and a twig was poking me in the arse.
I truly missed my penis.

The plans to raise my tent were again put on hold as they decided they were too hungry to begin work.
They offered me dinner, which I didn't refuse because I couldn't be bothered setting up my little gas burner.
It was a good meal of sausages and baked potatoes and we joked and laughed as we ate it.
They seemed like the closest of friends who never fought at all, which sadly reminded me of the condition I had left some of my friendships at home, Dot's in particular. I know she was quite keen to have me return to school but I was unsure about it. She seemed to find it tricky to relate to me now, which was baffling because if anything I had more in common with her now.
I also had a tiny feeling that she was jealous of me.
Maybe that is why she normally gets along with boys better, the rules of competition are different between girls vs. boys and girls vs. girls.

But I crammed those thoughts towards the back of my mind, this weekend was not about worrying about problems I couldn't fix by myself but about figuring out what kind of person I am now.
I liked that Rob and Terry didn't know my back-story.
Even though I was lying to them I felt more real.

"Now are you going to put up my tent?" I asked them after dinner.

"Bossy, isn't she Monster?"

"My word she is, Terry!"

I suspected that they very much enjoyed teasing me. I was onto them.

"I know what game you're playing!" I told them.

"What game?" Rob asked innocently.

"If I have no tent tonight, guess where I'll have to sleep?"

"Under the stars?" guessed Rob.

"In a cave?" asked Terry.

"Hmmm…maybe in your tent!"

"I never thought of that. But now that you mention it, there is room in our tent. Isn't there, Monster?"

"There certainly is, Terry and she's very welcome to sleep between us."

I laughed, as they tried to keep straight faces.

"My boyfriend," I reminded them, "will fucking bash you guys!"

The laughing didn't stop for most of the night.
Although, my memories of the night are slightly frazzled.
As a birthday present for Rob, Terry brought out a very large bottle of very cheap bourbon and some shot glasses.
That's about the point my memory gets a little fuzzy.
I remember chaining about six shots in a row as the boys cheered, I remember doing my best Marylyn Monroe impression as I serenaded Rob with Happy Birthday, I remember falling for the trick of trying to touch my elbows together behind my back and I think I remember Terry rubbing my back as I vomited behind a bush.

CHAPTER 15

My suspicions were right.
My tent was still in its bag the next morning as I lay in the British boys' tent beside them.
I awoke first, my head deciding that it didn't want me to sleep through the entire hangover. I grabbed for the memories of last night but none came to me right away. I checked my surroundings,
I was in Terry and Rob's tent, Terry to my left and Rob to my right.
I was in my own sleeping bag, good.
I was fully clothed, good.
It appeared that they were too much of gentlemen to take advantage of me, or my stories of my boyfriend scared them off or (most likely) I passed out.

My mouth tasted disgusting, a repugnant mixture of cheap bourbon and bile which both taste strangely alike. I gingerly wriggled out of my sleeping bag towards my bag that they had stuck at the back of the tent. My head felt like my brain was trying to break out and didn't care how much of the skull it took with it. I rummaged around my pack and took out the essential items. I was proud of how quiet I managed to be as I crept out of the tent, past the sleeping men.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, cures a hangover better than a swim in the sea.
The salt in the air, the cool of the water and the gentle swell of the waves combine together to make some sort of miracle tonic. When other 15-year-olds were groaning, begging for a Panadol and thus, giving away to their parents the truth about what they were really up to last night, I was curing all with a dip in the ocean, something I would do anyway. Not that my Mum cared if I drank, she was a 'Cool Mum' who often bought me the booze herself.

First things first, oral hygiene.
I brushed and flossed and rinsed and repeated.
Eventually, the sting of bourbon and bile was gone and my mouth was as fresh as a meadow.
Now that the mouth was cleansed, it was time for the rest of me.
I scampered down to the beach, tossed my clothes to the ground and groggily lumbered into the spray. I would give stretching a miss. The replenishing isn't instant; like a lot of good things in life you need patience. The important thing is to get your head wet as quickly as possible, so as soon as it was waist deep, I duck-dived under a wave and swam around a bit. I felt like a human antacid, fizzy and dissolving in the water and by the time I had finished dissolving I felt 100 times better.

I was in the water awhile again. When my fingers was started to go all pruney, I decided that it was time to go in.The gents had come down and set up a little time before.
That's what prompted me to stay out here a little longer because I was still embarrassed about getting so drunk last night. So much for embracing this new body.
My teeny little bikini felt even smaller as I strode toward the boys sitting on their towels.The way they looked at me I was convinced they were wearing X-ray glasses.
I needed something cool to say, something to make them forget that I passed out last night. Something casual, something sexy.

"You'll go blind if you keep staring like that," I said as I bent down to pick up my towel.

That would do the trick.

"So worth it," Rob joked.

Terry offered me another good hangover cure, a glass of Berocca. I thanked him sweetly and downed a big mouthful.

"This isn't Berocca!" I said.

"Never said it was," Terry was right, I had just assumed.

"What is it?"

"Raspberry and vodka, you said that was your favourite drink last night,"

Had I?

"So we drove down to the store just now and got you some."

"Drinking already? We just got up!"

"You've obviously never hung out with Backpackers before!"

"When with travelling Romans…" I said as I downed the glass.

I stretched out on my towel and laid on my back.

"I'm so embarrassed about last night," I lamented
.
"You were pretty bloody funny," chuckled Terry, "You're a funny drunk."

"And a fucking chatty one," added Rob.

Chatty? That wasn't a good sign.

"Yak, yak, yak. Couldn't shut you up!" he teased.

"Oh, and you also revealed to us your secret!" grinned Terry

"I can't believe you lied to us, little Miss Liar!"

My secret? Oh good god, what the hell did I say last night?

"Secret?" I nervously giggled, "I have no secrets from you!"

"Not any more," smiled Rob, "We know the truth!"

My hands suddenly became very clammy and I didn't know if I could keep playing it cool.

"So, what do you think of the truth?" It was an unusual thing to ask but I needed to know how much of my horrible secret they knew.

"Well, we knew the truth, pretty much from the start."
They did? Maybe they had seen a newspaper in the last week. I gulped nervously.

"We don't know why you were trying to deceive us in the first place."

Not only did they know I am a freak, they didn't like liars either.

"Some of the lies you told! Not believable in the slightest!"

And I thought I was passing quite well.

"I'm so sorry, guys…" I began to apologise

"Don't bother apologising. There's no excuse. You shouldn't have made up a boyfriend!"

Oh! Great! I had told a great many lies about myself yesterday so I was glad it was that one that came undone and not one of the many lies connected to my real identity. Any girl could make up a boyfriend, not just one who had only been a girl for a week. I decided that I would act as if I had distraught at being caught out.

"Sorry! It's true! I don't have a boyfriend in a band. I don't have a boyfriend at all."

"I thought the name of the band sounded fishy," remarked Rob
.
"We forgive you. As long as you do one thing for us."

"What's that?"

"Set up your own bloody tent!"

And so I tried a very different hangover cure, hair of the dog and a lot of it.
It didn't take long transform into Chatty Gemma again, but this time I didn't overdo it. I was silly without being catatonic. We talked a lot and they told me about England. I told them I was thinking of moving there and they got quite excited. They told me that I was one of their favourite people they had met on their entire trip. It made me feel special, it made me feel remarkable.
I liked talking to them too.

Rob rolled onto his back and asked, "Do you know what time it is?"

We were unaware of what time it was.

"It's time for dipping of the skinny variety, methinks," he said with his peculiar accent.

"Fuck off!" I laughed.

Although I was almost naked already the things the bikini was covering up are known commonly known as the 'rude bits' and nice girls aren't supposed to show them to anyone.

"Oh come on!" pleaded Rob, "Nobody is going to see you!"

"You guys will!"

"Yeah, but you get to see two guys naked, we only get to see one girl. So you're already ahead on the deal!" Terry explained the finer points of the deal.

"And it's not like your 'boyfriend' will get jealous!" Rob teased.

Now, I would have never considered it if I wasn't drunk. Too many stories start out like that and so does this one. I was drunk on Vodka and Raspberry and drunk on the rush I got from them thinking I was a real girl. The truth was they were two attractive men and if the genders were reversed I would have easily stripped down for the chance to see two hot girls.

But they were guys and I was a girl. Sure, seeing them in the altogether would be a little titillating but trading in my modesty card so early in the day would leave me with nowhere to go. But then again I was drunk and they do it all the time in Europe.

"OK," I said, much to the happiness of the men lying either side of me, "But you first and right in front of me."

"And you?"

"Well, I'll take my stuff in the water," I said trying to be demure.

"No fair!"

"Well, life isn't fair, boys!"

"How about a compromise? Top here, bottoms in the water?" suggested Rob, eagerly.

What's the harm in them seeing my boobs? It's not like they get to touch them.

"You drive a hard bargain," I told them as I stood up, "But OK."

I faced my back towards them and freed myself from the confines of the bikini top. I gave my breasts a once over before revealing them to strangers. They looked the perkiest I have ever seen them, as if they knew that they were on show. I spun around and introduced them to the boys, briefly rubbing and squeezing them together.

"Nice," said Rob but that was easily an understatement, Terry's open mouth stare was a little more accurate.

"Your turn."

The boys stood right in front of me side by side, like a bizarre firing squad. I was almost as nervous as they were. Neither of them were going first and the kept giving each other sideways glances.

"Come on, play fair. I held up my end of the bargain," I said, reminding them I was topless as if they needed a reminder.

They laughed nervously and I, now unable to laugh properly, giggled nervously. I had no idea why I was nervous, I had seen my own penis everyday (not that I was going to tell them that). I thought that I had scared them completely, until without warning Rob pulled down his shorts.

I had seen my own penis everyday, but this was different. First thing, he was circumcised, which seems to change the personality of the penis completely. I wondered if a circumcised penis felt different inside me and wondered if I would ever find out. When I first started to change I had told myself that I would never let a guy touch me with his cock, but since I have been female less than a week and I was already face to face with one that promise seems a little shaky. But I had made that promise before I had developed a keen interest in boys and their bodies.

I would never tell him but compared to my old cock, Rob didn't hold up too well.
It was a lot skinnier and a fair bit shorter, maybe he sculpted his superb body to make up for it or maybe I was remembering my own penis wrong.

I echoed what Rob had said to me, "Nice."

It became apparent that Terry was stalling.

"What's the hold up?" questioned Rob as he swang freely in the air.

Terry tried to convey something to his mate through his eyes but I saw it too.

"Come on, Terry. Don't let your country down!" I said as I bounced freely in the air.

He sighed and looked up in the air, as if he was praying to someone.

He cleared his throat nervously, "Let's just say, seeing your baps has had a big effect on me."

He pulled down his shorts but he was not yet naked, he was wearing briefs under that, kinda. He was only kinda wearing them because half of his penis was sticking out the top and it was erect. I knew this trick, it was a good way of hiding an erection.
All you needed to do was direct it up and make sure the elastic of the briefs could restrict it and you were protected from the telltale bulge It looked like King Kong towards the end of the movies when they have him chained up in the theatre. I made sure I didn't take photos of it just in case it broke free and tried to attack me. He begrudgingly pulled down his briefs and freed his large, hairy and slightly bent erection from its restraints. Terry looked at me sheepishly as if to apologise on its behalf.

I decided not to embarrass him anymore and ran towards the awaiting sea.
Running unrestrained for the first time I was witness to what bedlam my tits could now wreak. They actually hurt as they chaotically bounced about my chest so I brought up my hands to act as a temporary bra. Each dainty, little hand clutched tightly to each heaving boob and held on for dear life until I plunged myself into the water.

It was freaky having two large buoyant devices attached to me, it made swimming underwater a little tricky and they bobbed around when I was on the surface.
It was just one of a million different things I hadn't thought about when I was told I would become a girl.

The protection from judging eyes that water provides had made Terry a lot calmer.
He was naked, sure but he could have all the erections he wanted without anyone seeing. Or maybe the cold water had already taken care of that problem.

"Now your bottoms, Gemma!" Trust Rob not to forget.

I too was happy for the protection of the water as I removed the last item to conceal my modesty. I held the bottoms above my head as proof and the boys cheered. I clutched them with both hands, fearing that I would loose them in a wave and would be forced to reveal everything all the way back up to the shore as I rummaged through my satchel to find my shorts.

"You're not just going to hold them, are you?" Rob asked, "You should go put them back with your stuff, so you don't lose them."

Rob's suggestion seemed to have a not-so-hidden agenda.

"I'll be fine, thank you very much," I told the boy desperate to see me naked.

Then Terry piped up, "I'll run them back for you and I'll bring them back to you before you get out the water."

Terry also had a not-so-hidden agenda but trying to be sweet to me was more appreciated than trying to see a glimpse of my snatch.

"A true gentleman," I said as I threw my last vestige of clothes at him.

They sailed high through the air and he caught them with one hand and ran onto shore, placing them with the rest of my stuff.

"Hey Terry," shouted Rob, "Grab the beach ball while you're there!"

"Gemma? Have you ever been skinny dipping before?" Rob asked.

I remembered skinny-dipping before in these very waters with a few friends and Laura, my ex-girlfriend when I was 15. She had done the getting undressed in the water too and I remembered the absolute thrill of seeing her tiny, little breasts uncovered for the first time. It was night time and the moonlight seemed to shine a spotlight on them. We nervously embraced in the water and my hands cupped her flat bottom. She didn't have the nicest body in the entire world but it was cute and she was willing to let me touch it. Back on the land and fully clothed, we made out together on a picnic table. We were the talk of all my friends. It was thoughts like those that made me miss being a guy, thoughts like those and a million others.

"Once or twice," I said, nostalgically.

Terry had retrieved the beach ball and was running towards the sea. His erection was long gone so his cock comically flopped around. If running with breasts was hazardous then running with a penis was hilarious. Watching it foolishly waggle around helped me to stop idolizing it. Penises weren't always majestic rods of manliness, in fact there was something ugly and mundane about a flaccid one.
In fact, for all my years of owning one I was usually much more embarrassed by it than proud. And most of the time I wasn't thinking about it at all. They were the things that you would accidentally catch in you zipper, they were the things you couldn't get to sit right when your wore boxers, they were the things that would shrivel to nothing in cold water and they would annoy you with uncalled for erections.
I knew precisely how mundane they were and thus I shouldn't be scared or in awe of them in the slightest.

My new genitals on the other hand are completely foreign and thus were allowed to scare the hell out of me.

"Run, Forrest, run!" called Rob and Terry came crashing into the waves, beach ball in his arms.

I turned to tell Rob that I loved that movie only to see he had disappeared, vanished out of sight.

Now although shark attacks are extremely rare and you're almost more likely to have nanobots change your gender than be attacked by one, I felt a little scared.
I mean, my string of bad luck might not be over. I felt something brush past my leg and I panicked. I let out a nervous yelp and then it happened. The unseen creature pushed through my legs and stood up, lifting me high out of the water.

"You scared the life out of me, you dickhead!" I screamed as I involuntarily rode upon Rob's shoulder.

He had done this to me a few times yesterday but I never dreamt that he would do while I was naked. Somehow that little square of material between my pussy and his neck made a huge difference to me.Rob made lurching movements around, making it a necessity that I hold onto his head, as opposed to covering my chest. I screamed for him to let go, but due to all the previous playful screaming I had done I didn't blame him for not knowing I was uncomfortable.

Blame aside, I was totally nude and raised high in the air for all (well, just Terry) to see. Rob spun around, thus showcasing my arse and my tits for the crowd's (well, Terry's) amusement.

"Put me down!" I wailed as I realised that screaming wasn't going to do it.

I pulled his hair and leaned back, trying to tip him. It worked and we went tumbling into the waiting ocean, Rob laughing all the way. A hearty wave rolled over the top of us and I swallowed a large mouthful of seawater. Rob, on the other hand, got a mouthful of something else. He turned abruptly in the water, getting a faceful of my crotch. I briefly felt his lips brush past my vaginal lips, although blame was hard to place, because it was a tussle and it was hard to know if it was on purpose or not.
Either way, it wasn't the first time a tangle between us had resulted in me being felt up, so I decided to give Rob a wide berth from now on. Maybe 'Monster' was an accurate name for him.

Terry seemed like the safer choice, so I paddled over to him. He was standing in a shallowed part of the ocean, but not shallow enough that you could see everything on him that meant due to my shorter stature my crotch was hidden from view too.

"Hey Terry, Monster keeps touching me up underwater. Can you protect me?" I whispered.

"Of course, me lady!" he said putting on a posh English accent and standing between Rob and I.

"My hero," I said, hugging him from behind, my breasts squishing against his back.

Terry tossed the beach ball at Rob hitting him directly in the face.
I squealed in delight and Rob tried to hit me with the ball in retaliation.
I threw it to Terry and it evolved into a friendly game of catch, albeit one where all the players were naked.
It was a pleasant, amiable and only slightly sexually charged game.
Despite slowly finding out that Rob was a fairly sleazy guy, I couldn't help but revel in his awesome body and childish smile.
Once when I was neither throwing nor catching the ball, my hand gently and secretly rubbed the sensitive delicateness of my pussy.
So much more discreet than rubbing a throbbing erection.

The game of catch wound down and the mentions of food and more drinks had persuaded us all.
I waited patiently for Terry to bring my bikini bottoms to me and he rewarded me with my top as well.
So I was fully clothed as I emerged out of the water, much to Rob's displeasure.

I made sure I didn't consume too much, in an effort to curb the return of the chatty, giggly, vomiting creature I had become last night. But a mixture of the jovial mood and the super warm sun made drinking a lot seem like almost a necessity. They loved to tease me and it was easy because I was so different to them.
They were from a big city, I was a country bumpkin.
I was sheltered and they had travelled the world.
I was an Aussie and they were from the mother country.
But mainly, because I was a girl and they were boys.

I guess the transformation was so convincing they could have never guessed the truth. I liked hanging around them, the experience was so pure that I finally knew how I would have been treated if I was born this way. It made me feel more at home inside this body. They hadn't been what I was expecting when I came here, but they had been healthy for me.

We had talked so long that I didn't even notice the sun going down. It felt weird to break out of a conversation and notice the entire world had gone dark for the day.
In my defence we hadn't gotten out bed until the afternoon, so it's not like we had wasted the entire day.

It was when Terry was out collecting more wood for the fire when Rob made his move.

"So, Gemma," Rob said as he slid up beside me, "Have you had a good weekend?"

"Yeah," I replied honestly, "I actually have."

"Me too. You are really a sweet girl."

"And you are really a drunk guy."

"Yeah," he laughed, "I am a little! You look so hot!"

"Thanks."

Rob slowly slid his arm up onto my shoulder.

"Do you know what would make it a perfect weekend?" he slurred.

It was very possible that Rob way more drunk than me.

"What's that?" I asked.

He leaned towards me and his warm bourbon breath crept up my face and into my nostrils.

"You, me, a picnic blanket under the stars and we'll take things to the next level."

Rob leered at me, so I was aware that the next level probably involved me being lovingly impaled on his cock. I looked down at his body. Why did he have to be so cute? His muscles seemed even more pronounced under the glow of the moon.

"Ummm, no thanks," I rejected him.

"Huh?" he grunted.

He had obviously not expected that answer.

It's not as if he wasn't cute, because he was. Insanely so. Hormones and weird feelings rushed around my body, wetting my crotch, hardening my nipples and clouding my mind. My body may have been ready but I was not ready. And even if I was, I was too much of a romantic to let a horny, drunk backpacker be my first. I didn't want it to be like this.

"No thank you," I whispered as I leant in close to him, "but thanks for the offer."

As consolation I leaned a further in and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. For a second I almost gave him a kiss on the lips but reconsidered just before my moist lips reached his. I wasn't even sure I wanted him as my first kiss. Terry trudged into sight and we broke off our little huddle. As he did, I'm sure I heard Rob mutter, "Prick tease!" under his breath.

Rob acted like a wounded dog after I rejected him, sitting alone and pounding back shot after shot. I may have accidentally led him to believe that I was a slut by flirting with him and swimming naked with him but I was still learning a lot about being a girl. I didn't know how to flirt properly or how to control this body. I had never been overtly coveted before, so maybe some of my responses may have given off the wrong signs. Hell, I was so unsure of myself that if I had one more drink in me, I may have happily gone off and fucked his brains out. There was so much sexual pressure between the both of us.

I felt no so such pressure with Terry though.
He didn't flirt with me outrageously.
Sure, he had openly stared at me when I was naked or close to naked, but when I was fully clothed I felt nothing but camaraderie between us.
He told me stories of life in London while I subtly altered stories from my life to tell to him.
We liked the same movies and the same TV shows and even some of the same music. We talked as we sat around the fire that we probably shouldn't have built on such a dry night.
Meanwhile, Rob had gone and had a vomit a few times and finally went inside the tent and passed out.

"He's pretty out of it," confirmed Terry as he exited the only standing tent, "He doesn't take rejection well."

"How did you know I rejected him?"

"He told me what a bitch you were when you went the bathroom," he suddenly looked startled, "But… but I don't think you're a bitch. It's probably good for him if he gets taken down a peg or two. He deserves it."

It was unusual to hear someone talk about their best friend like that, so I asked Terry why Rob deserved it.

"Well, when I told you that we had been unsuccessful with the women in this country I really meant just me. Monster has done extremely well and I'm glad to see that you didn't just become another notch on his bedpost. You're much too special for that."

"You think I'm special?" I said, mocking Terry.

"Yeah, I actually do, no lie. Truly beautiful girls are usually boring to talk to, but most of them are too stuck up to even talk to you. I think a lot of the beautiful people get things too easy and so they never develop their personality fully. But not only are you one of the hottest girls I've seen, you're the sweetest too. I don't know how you achieved it."

"Well, let's just say I wasn't always this pretty," I told him.

"I find that very hard to believe," Terry retorted.

Hard to believe, maybe, but it was the truth.

We decided that we would stay up all night and watch the sunrise.
But I was a little sleepy when we decided in the plan, so I was unsure if I would make it. We climbed down to the beach and set up a picnic blanket.

"I can't believe I'm heading home on Tuesday. It's going to be so weird. I've been away for so long."

"Did you ever get homesick?" I asked as I watched the waves gently massage the shore.

"You know what? Not really. That might sound a little strange," Terry said as he looked out at the sea as well.

"Yeah, a little. I mean I'm homesick now."

Terry seemed amazed, "But you've only been away two days! And you're only like half an hour away!"

"Yeah, but home has been a very different place lately and I wish it could go back to the way that it was."

"Can things go back to the way they were?" Terry asked with a hint of hope.

I looked down at my body and told him flatly, "No."

"Well then, you might as well try and embrace the changes. Do the best with what you got, right?"

"So," I said changing the subject, "What were the best things you saw in Australia?"

"Well," Terry said, jumping back into his enthusiasm, "Sydney was beautiful, the Opera House and stuff and the desert was actually astoundingly breath taking but my all time favourite thing I saw was you, naked!"

He teased me but I knew there was more truth there than he let on.

"You liked that, huh?"

"Oh yeah, just wished I brought my camera."

"I am so fucking glad you didn't."

There was a rustling sound that made me think that Rob was watching us, until I remember that it was probably a possum or something. Would Rob be angry to see me and Terry chatting together all night long on a blanket on the beach? He probably wasn't the very jealous type, so probably not.

I wriggled a little closer to Terry as the night continued on.
He reminded me a lot of myself when I used to be male and so I followed the golden rule by treating him the way I would have loved to be treated by a pretty girl. I laughed at his jokes and openly flirted with him. I was worrying more about his happiness than I was about mine the more I drank. That's not to say it was an act, I actually liked his stories and his jokes. It was interesting to be able to see the conversation from the other side and I was able to recognise the signs.

"It's almost time for the sun to come up," I said as the dark blue sky began to give way.

"I sorta was hoping that the sun wasn't going to come up today, so that we could talk longer," he sighed as he lay on his back, studying the sky.

"How could someone as sweet as you get nowhere with the girls in this country?" I asked him but just as well could have been asking the question to myself.

"Ah, when pitted against Rob," Terry sightly winced at his friend's name, "I was always second best. I mean Rob's probably slept with at least 15 girls here and the best I got was half a hand job from a Welsh girl at a hostel in Wagga Wagga."

Now fairly drunk, I grinned, "I think I can do better than that!"

It was a split-decision my alcohol driven brain made.
I had sat there listening to a guy who reminded me of myself, pour his heart out to me, a really pretty girl who reminded me a tiny bit of Holly. My decision to give Terry a hand job was based solely on how I would have wanted this situation to go if I was in Terry's position.
If Terry had said sex or even a head-job I would have been grossed out too much to follow through with my wish fulfilment plan, but a hand-job was just like something I had done hundreds of time, instead it was someone else's penis in my hand.

"What are you doing?" Terry asked me as I clumsily fumbled with his shorts.

"You said the best you got in this country was half a hand-job. I think I can do a little better!"

"Really?" he said, the excitement making the word almost inaudible.

"Yeah Terry. Really. Now lie back and enjoy the show!"

Since he was wearing his bathers from early on I only had one layer of clothes to battle. I straddled his legs as I wrestled with his shorts, finally pulling them down enough to reveal the thick coil of his cock. It was already coming to life as the blood rushed to help us out. It wasn't until my hand clamped around the thick shaft that I realised the severity of what I was doing.
I was providing sexual gratification to a man.
My mind screamed so loud I was afraid that Terry would hear the noise coming out of my ears.

In an effort to calm my freaking out mind I laid out the facts.
I was now a girl who was now attracted to men.
He was a cute guy with an itch that needed scratching.
I hadn't kissed him nor had planned too.
I wasn't naked.
His penis was going nowhere near my mouth nor my vagina.
I was just doing a friend a favour, to show him that he was special and that he meant a lot to me.
He was the first and only person I felt comfortable acting like a normal girl in front of. And what do normal 17-year-old girls do to boys they like sometimes?
Give them a hand-job.
What I was doing wasn't wrong.

My hand felt so little wrapped around Terry's cock.
It looked like when a baby grasps a large adult finger in its hand.
Since Terry was over six feet tall his penis was evenly matched, thick and long.
It was no longer the comical appendage I had seen flopping about as he ran but the hard and very willing recipient of my services. I had watched a few videos on the internet where girls give a guy a hand job and usually she would daintily spit on his cock so that there was some moisture. To me, the act of spitting on a guy's genitals always seemed so disrespectful but as I glided my hand up and down I could see that a little moisture would be a little better. I formulated a plan and spat on my hand thus not showing any disrespect to the penis.

"Wow," Terry moaned as my little hand moved like lighting up and down his cock.

It brought back memories of when I used to masturbate. Actually it almost felt like I was masturbating myself but I couldn't feel it.

"Thank you, Gemma," Terry sounded very grateful.

"My pleasure," I smiled at Terry.

I built up speed and was quite proud of the groans I received. If I was going to be good at any sexual practice, I would think that at least my hand-jobs would be at least well researched.

"Can I see your breasts, please?"

"Huh?" I asked him, mid-stroke.

"Can you slip your top off? I love your tits!"

I stopped, let go of his member and pulled off my top, followed by my bra, freeing my substantial boobs from their confines. I squeezed them together and pouted as he took over my job, a charming grin and glazed look on his face. I placed my hand on his penis as well, interrupting him mid-pull.

"No, no! I owe you an entire hand-job, no cheating."

I am sure there is a technique to giving an incredible hand-job but since it was my first I didn't chastise myself for not being the greatest. I did try a few things such as giving a little twist at the top, changing speeds and tightening and loosening my grip when the mood strikes. It didn't matter what little tricks I was doing, Terry seemed to love it all equally. The look on his face made me wish I had a penis, I remembered all the good times I had with it. Instead, I let my right hand play with my boobs, which felt nice.

"Ooh, I'm about to cum!" Terry warned me after an extended period of silence. I panicked, I had forgotten that this all ended rather messily. In these porn videos the women always take the 'money shot' on their face or their tits but I wasn't in the porn industry. I didn't want a drop of the semen on me, mostly because that stuff is gross but partly because I didn't want become pregnant. Even though I knew there was an extremely miniscule chance of a droplet of cum entering my vagina and finding its way to an egg I didn't want to chance it. I dutifully stroked harder and faster, but made sure it was not facing towards me in the slightest.

Terry's grunt denoted that my job was finished.
A small amount of jism spurted out of the head of his penis, an event I had seen a lot of times, just not from this angle. Terry did not become a sperm geyser like I feared he might but a dribble of his semen did get on my hand. I did not freak out; I gently leaned down and wiped it on the blanket. His penis began to shrivel and shrink, like a flower on time lapse as the sun goes down.

"Wow," Terry smiled, "You are such a nice girl!"

"…a nice girl" rang in my head like a fire alarm.
I surveyed the situation; I was on the beach, on top of a guy, breasts exposed, hand a little cramped because I stroked a guy's penis until it shot reproductive fluids in my general direction.
What the hell had I done?
I had only been a girl for a week and already I am wanking off strangers.
What the fuck was I going to do with the guys I knew at school?
This camping trip was to centre myself before going to school not to sexually gratify tourists.
I was ashamed of myself.
Silently, I packed my breasts back into their bra and shimmied my top back on.
There was an awkward, very un-sexy pause between us.
I could see him try and figure what to do next.
Should he try and kiss me?
Should he offer to finger me?
Should he blush and go to bed?

"Now at least I can tell my friends at home that I got a full hand job," was about the most gauche line he could possibly say.

But he said it.
Although, to his credit he did look as horrified with what he just said as I did.

"Not that I'm going to tell my friends about you. You're far too special… to me for me to do that to you, you see?" he stuttered as he struggled to put his shorts back on.

Within a minute of Terry climaxing we were both fully dressed and already at a complete loss for words, a new world record!

Silence was my best option, I told myself. If I started talking in this state, I might accidentally spit out the entire story and fully embarrass him. There probably nothing more embarrassing than finding out the girl you just got a hand job from used to be a guy. But I'm not a guy now, I kept telling myself. Not even a fully trained doctor could tell I was ever a guy. Although all of Australia knew. I was confused, should I see what I had just done as the first step of becoming a beautiful sexual woman or the desperate act of a teenage slut?

I thought about it long and hard, while it was easier to consider myself a disgusting gender confused slut, I think it was healthier to tell myself that was what most girls would do in the same situation.

Sadly, I couldn't stop the thought of what I had just done was wrong from dominating my mind. Sure, a lot of drunken 17-year-old girls were wanking off strangers but I wasn't a 17-year-old girl, I was a guy in a girl's body. What happened to just acting like Michael with breasts? That was the original plan before this body forced its way onto me. Who was in control here; my body or my mind?

All this thinking time was done in total silence, leaving Terry very concerned. While I was figuring out whether what I had done was a travesty or not, he laid there wandering what I was thinking about him. The truth was nothing, he seemed sweet and was cute and I loved the accent but the turmoil going through my head had almost nothing to do with him.

"So," he said in a valiant effort to stop the silence, "what are you thinking about?"

"Just admiring the beautiful sunrise," I was never going to tell him the truth.

"Yeah," he murmured, "It is definitely beautiful."

He left a pause where I'm sure he contemplated adding, "but not as beautiful as you," or something along those lines but at the last minute ditched it. I felt bad for him, here he was laying beside me, wandering why I had gone all quiet. He had no idea what I was thinking about.

"Sorry man," I said, rubbing my eyes, "But I don't think I can stay awake much longer. I might go and crash."

"This staying up to see the sunrise is harder than I thought it would be," agreed Terry, sounding a little hurt.

I felt terrible, I just couldn't leave him here wondering why the pretty girl would jerk him off and than just piss off. What happened to me following the golden rule: treat him the way I would have wanted to be treated by a pretty girl.

I rolled over to him, "I might be gone by the time you wake up," I purred to him, "So I just wanted to say I really loved our time together. You really solved a lot of problems I had going on in my head and you are such a sweet guy."

"Really?" he asked earnestly.

"Really." I kissed him on the cheek as evidence.

A contented smile crept onto his face as I stood up and dusted the sand off of me.

"You have been the highlight of my entire trip, Gemma," Terry told me as I started to walk away.

"And you've been the highlight of my week," I told him, "I know that doesn't sound like much, but believe me it is."

CHAPTER 16

'Fleeing' was probably too strong a word for what I was doing. Sure, both the boys were still asleep and I did call Nicole to come and pick me up hours early but I wouldn't consider what I was doing 'fleeing'. Maybe 'leaving with haste' was more correct. People who flee wouldn't leave a note with their email address on it tucked into Terry's bag. But I was walking fast enough that if he woke up and found that I was gone, he would have to run for a while before he could catch me. So, there was probably no way that he could ask me for a parting blowjob.
I was free.

Last night's events went whirring though my head like they were on the wheels of a slot machine. There was nothing that could push that out of the front of my mind. A Brown Snake could bite me fair on the leg and getting the antidote would be number two on my To-Do list. I kept reassuring myself that it was only a hand-job and that was tantamount to masturbating. I felt like Bill Clinton, frantically trying to tell myself that I had not been part of a sexual act. The only thing I had decided at the end of my hike; I wasn't going to tell anyone about it, especially Nicole.

"Hey sis," she called out, clearly revelling in calling me sis.

"Hi Nicole," I said wearily.

"How was your trip?" she asked me as she helped me lift my bag into the boot of Mum's car.

"Very calming," I lied.

Nicole sped a little too fast down the very gravely road for my liking. Her stereo was too loud so that the squeal of her tyres on the loose stones was muffled.

"Mum's pretty pissed off," Nicole revealed.

Ah, I had forgotten that there were problems at home as well. It did seem a little foolish that I was running away from a problem in the direction of many more. This is why I wanted to travel a lot further away from home than Breybrook National Park.

"What did you tell her?" I asked.

"Just that you were safe, needed your space and would be home on Monday."

Nicole had a few bad qualities but you could trust her to keep a secret from Mum if you needed her to, maybe because I had plenty more secrets about her that I was keeping.

Nicole was right, Mum was mad at me. She glared through the lounge room window at me as I unloaded the car.

As I swung the front door open I was greeted with a very snide, "Welcome back."

"Hi," I said peeking around into the lounge, "I'm sorry."

"Well, I certainly hope you 'found yourself' this weekend because I couldn't find you anywhere!"

"Mum, I'm sorry," I said, trying to sound a lot more sorry than I really was.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it, Miss,"

I loathed it when she calls me 'Miss'.

"I know it must be very tough to be you at the moment but have you for a second put yourself in my shoes. My brand new daughter goes missing for the entire weekend leaving me nothing more than a note! I haven't slept a wink all fucking weekend, how did you sleep?"

I wasn't going to tell her I slept between two boys.

"Mum, I'm sorry!" I tried a little harder.

Her eyes lit up as if they were aflame.

"Just go to your room, I'm sick of the bloody sight of you!"

Perhaps I had pushed my Mum too far this time. It was true, I hadn't thought of my Mum at all while I was away. But if I had told her where I was going to she would have ran out to retrieve me. I didn't want to hurt her but there were things I needed to do. I opened my wardrobe to see all my old male clothes gone, replaced with the new feminine outfits all neatly folded or hung. That's how I knew Mum was really stressed. She had always, since we were old enough to walk, made our bedrooms our sanctuary. She would never come in when we weren't there, she wouldn't yell at us to clean them up or clean them for us. It was our little place in the world. The only times she would ever come in was if she was stressed. The fact she cleaned up proved to me that I was scaring her. I would have to be a little more sensitive from now on.

Categorically, I refused dresses. When Mum took me clothes shopping I pouted and sulked and whinged whenever she even looked in the direction of a dress or a skirt.
There was something too feminine about them and even though I already owned some very feminine things (a womb, vagina, ovaries), girly clothes were still optional. However, hung up next to my shirts was a dress and it was rather short too, bound to expose a lot of my shapely, new legs. I'm sure if I bent down the wrong way my undies would be revealed too. Not only that, I was going to be forced to wear this dress.

I hated the school uniform.

I didn't come out for lunch, instead I surfed around on the net, reading more about what people thought of me. The picture I posted of my boobs had been deemed a fake by all and the chatting about me seemed to be quietening down, which made me feel a little relieved and peeved at the same time. A part of me loved being famous and if Tyler rang up and offered me another interview I would totally take it, but I was too proud to call him and request one.

Dot called my mobile to see how I was doing and I told her about my fake and very quiet weekend alone.

"Sounds great," Dot really loved her time alone.

"It was very relaxing," I lied.

"So, any word of when you are coming back to school?"

"Mum is forcing me to return tomorrow."

"Yay for me!" Dot was a lot more happy than me, "Why don't you want to go back to school, Hootie?"

"Umm… because I will be the topic of thousands of conversations and yet everyone will be silent around me. The guys won't see me as a real guy anymore and the girls won't see me as a real girl. I'm going to be a freak."

"You've always been a freak," Dot teased, "But I think it's going to be a lot better than you think. Friday we had a full school assembly and that Annette woman came and talked to the whole school about you. Went through the whole process. Told us all to treat you friendly. Mr. Westmoreland said that all the teachers had to do a whole half day program learning how to treat you."

"So, more preparation is going into me returning than if terrorists attack."

"At least we know you have weapons of mass destruction."

"…Is that a joke about my breasts?"

"Ummm, yeah. Not great, huh?"

"Not one of your best."

Mum called me out for dinner. She seemed less angry this time, so I bit the bullet and went out. I thought I smelled a roast. Laid out on the table was four plates piled high with all the trimmings; roast potatoes, parsnip, peas, gravy, mint sauce and the main attraction, roast lamb. "This smells great," Ben, Nicole's boyfriend, said as he sat down where I usually sit.

It wasn't a big deal, so I sat across from him, next to Mum.

"Looks yummy!" I said, which sounded ever more childish with my squeak of a voice.

"Glad to see you out for dinner," Mum told me with a smile that had told me she had calmed down.

Nicole dominated the dinnertime conversation, retelling a long, pointless story about what had happened to her at Ben's footy game this afternoon. It included a lot of people who weren't fully explained and a lot of events that had no bearing to the main story. Ben dutifully nodded along and Mum seemed genuinely interested.
I sat there lost in my thoughts. Tomorrow morning I was going to be facing a lot of problems. I was going to school and there were hundreds of inherent little problems for me to solve. I thought about those problems as I prepared for bed. And I knew that every minute that passed would bring school a little closer.
Barring a catastrophe, tomorrow morning I would be walking to school in my summer uniform.
I feel asleep hoping for a catastrophe.

Sadly, nothing horrible happened during the night and I found myself drying my naked body on the bathroom. I was running a little late because I had to wait until Nicole was finished in there before I could use it and once in there I had more things to do than when I was a guy. My legs and armpits needed a shave, I had to rub in some stuff Mum had said was important for my skin and I had to swallow my pride and wear a dress. I tried to tell myself that it was no big deal, every single girl in school is wearing the exact same thing as me but that only reminded me that I was a girl.

The clock warned me that if I didn't finish getting ready soon, I would be late.

First off, I stepped a pair of undies and pulled them up. They were lime green boy-shorts, with a tiny amount of yellow lace around the top. They were certainly not boy's underpants but at least it wasn't a red silk G-string. I didn't really mind that much if I was wearing frilly knickers, it's not like anybody was going to see them and this was the appropriate body to wear such garments. My bra didn't match my panties and that was fine too. It was a plain white one and the one I felt the most supported in.
I still hadn't got the knack of putting on a bra properly so it did eat a lot into my getting dressed time but by the time I was finished my boobs felt comfortably encased in their cotton confines.
But that wasn't the end of today's underwear.

Years of staring up girls' dresses at school had taught me one thing; almost all of them wear boxer shorts underneath. I mentioned that to Dot last night and she said it was true. As well as undies, the girls would put on boxer shorts, tights or bike shorts to hide their undies from prying eyes. As I didn't want to stick out at all, I pulled on some red satin boxers shorts as well.

The only good thing about wearing a dress is I could put off putting on the dress by putting on my shoes first. First I had tiny little white anklet socks that reminded me just how small my feet had become. Then I put on my shoes, they were brown leather girls' school shoes with a cute little buckle. There was nothing left to do but pull on the dress. I paced around the bathroom, dreading the moment. It would seem that wearing just my bra and panties to school was a less scary choice. Mum banged on the door and scared the living daylights out of me.

There was no going around it, I was going to have to pull on that dress.

I held my breath as I pulled my blue and white checked dress on but I had no idea why. It seemed like something to calm me down. The dress was tight against my new body as if it was disagreeing with the curves that my body has.
My God! My waist was so small!
There were buttons up the middle and I rushed to do them up.
I had to squeeze my breasts together a little bit to do up a button or two.
And then I was finished.
A high school girl in her slightly tight summer uniform looked into the mirror and saw a high school girl in her slightly tight summer uniform looking into the mirror. Kev was right, I was going to be one of the hotter girls at school.
I sighed and wished I had turned into a girl during the winter, at least that uniform tries to hide a girl's figure, not celebrate it.

This was horrible; it was like first day of high school all over again.

"Oh you look so cute!" Mum gushed, "It's like your first day of high school again!"

I am positive Mum didn't mean it in the same doom and gloom way that I did. She slung out a camera like it was a six-shooter in the old west and started firing at me.
It was weird, although there had been a million photos taken of me recently, not one of them was taken by a friend or family member. Now not only was I in the nation's newspapers but now I was destined for a family photo album. I meekly smiled as the camera flashed as brightly as my Mum's smile.

"Mum," I protested, "If I don't leave now I am going to be late."

Now I would have loved to missed school altogether but if I was going I wasn't going to be late. I hated being late to anything and I had a habit of getting twitchy and anxious if there was a chance of me becoming behind schedule.

"Don't get your knickers in a knot, Gem. I'll drive you there."

And there I was, sitting beside my Mum in her beat up old Toyota on the short drive to school, the seat belt sitting awkwardly between my breasts. As the car lurched forward towards my school one thought was running through my head. The thought was the same as what the Beach Boys were singing out of the car speakers. "Let me go home. I wanna go home," they sang in perfect harmony; sure they were singing about sailing on The Sloop John B but I knew exactly how they felt.

We passed some kids walking to school. Trisha and Drew from Year 8, I think. School was just down the road a little bit. I pulled at the hem of my dress, trying to stretch it further down my nicely tanned legs.

The Beach Boys abruptly stopped singing as if they had all died at the same time.
So, much for 'Good Vibrations'! They hadn't died, Mum had just turned off the stereo, along with the rest of the car.

We were at school, I could see it pulling countless students into its door as it would do every morning. I knew I had only been away for two weeks but it had felt like a lifetime.

"OK," I said, nervously, "This is it."

"Now, I'm very proud of how brave you are being, Gemma," Mum told me.

"Thanks," I said as I opened the car door, "I'll see you after school?"

"Sure thing, Gem,"

Mum gave me a parting kiss and I left the sanctuary of the beat up Toyota. It didn't usually feel safe in that death trap but compared to the unknown horrors of my first day at school it was a haven.

As soon as I got out of the car I realized how difficult today was going to be. 15 pairs of eyes stopped what they were doing (looking at the sky, scouring a bag for homework, checking out a cute boy) and locked onto me. I had become an aural black hole sucking out all the sound in an area surrounding me, loud chitchat deteriorated into hushed whispers. Trying to ignore it I heaved my backpack over one shoulder and started the arduous walk into school.

I had done this walk from through car park to my locker a million times in my life. Well, maybe a million was a slight exaggeration but life had been so crazy lately that hyperbole seemed fair. This time was different though for some obvious reasons, namely I was now a girl, in a dress, with everyone watching me. I decided to try and make this as normal as possible. The main problem was seeing all the people sneakily glancing at me or openly staring. To remedy that I craned my neck down, but that created another problem - in my view now was my two very prominent, very round, schoolgirl uniformed breasts. I finally found a decent angle to hold my head, one that blocked out both the boobs and the gawkers.

All I had to do was stare at the ground about 3 meters in front of me.

The journey to my locker was relatively uneventful considering the circumstances. A lot more people said, "Hi," to me as I walked there but that wasn't too scary, I tried to smile brightly and return the greeting back but mostly I just mumbled a thank you, which didn't make a whole lot of sense.

The dress felt far too short on me and as I stood on my tippy-toes to reach the top shelf of my locker I'm sure the bottom of my boxer shorts were revealed. And with the number of people staring at me, I'm sure it would become a well-documented fact that Gemma Taylor wore red boxer shorts on her first day at school, it might even make it to my Wikipedia page.

My main mission today was to get through the day without running away, screaming into the horizon but my secondary mission was show everyone else that I wasn't fazed by the whole thing. To do that I had to keep from crying and to do that I had to keep myself relatively sane. There within lay the problem - how do I keep sane when the entire world felt off-kilter?

My locker seemed bigger and much higher up, my bag felt much heavier and everyone I knew before was now much taller and much more intimidating.
Even the girls.

"Dude, how's things?" asked Louis, the guy who's locker was below mine.
We weren't best friends but since we had always had lockers close together we weren't above a bit of small talk.
I told him I was finding everything, "a bit scary," and he nodded.
I used to be able to look him directly in the eye but not I had to stare up at him.

"Want me to carry your books to Form meetings?" he asked me.

I turned him down and therefore began my secondary mission. I looked around at the other girls preparing to go to form meetings, most of them carried their books in the same way: hugging them to their chest, while most of the boys carried their books by holding them under one arm.
As much as I hate reminding myself I had breasts, I clutched my books like they did, they all had been girls a lot longer than me and they must have come up with that way to carry books for a reason.

Form meetings were a necessary evil. Every day before real classes start, we would go to a room (in our case an art room) and have our Form Teacher check attendance and read out notices for the day, reminding people about sports meetings and that the canteen would be now selling soft serve ice cream and things like that. They were only 10 minutes long but it was such a boring way to start the day that they would usually drain you of all energy you had saved up. Forms are groups of about 20 students, ours was called 11C. They were much more important back in Year 7 and 8 because you would do every class together but by Year 11 Form Meetings was the only thing our Form did together. Our 11C, my form, had the reputation of being the smartest, which was probably because they put a lot of the smarter students in it.

I was in such a blind hurry that Louis and I were the first to get to Form Meetings, even before Mr. Cahill, our Form Teacher. The fact I usually hung back and waited for Dot must have slipped my mind, but that usually meant I arrived there late anyway. It was weird being there first. I had a sneaky suspicion that nobody expected me to be there first, mainly because there was a massive banner that read, "Welcome back Gemma!!!" and nobody was there to cheer.

"Surprise!" said Louis drably and the sound echoed around the empty room.
I laughed.
I sat where I usually sat and he sat where he usually sat, which was across from me. Dot usually sat beside me and Louis' best friend, Tom would sit across from Dot. That was our whole table. Glen and Holly were in different forms and both the Madsen boys were in completely different year levels. So it was really just me and Dot in our form.

"Nice banner."

"Yeah, I think Alana and Lilly made it for you," Louis said.

Alana and Lilly's names always seem to be together. You couldn't start a sentence with Alana and not add 'and Lilly' because it would sound too weird. They did everything together from the same classes to dating from the same circle of boys. Alana Sturt was widely regarded as the hottest girl in our entire year level and Lilly would easily be in most boys' Top 5, and therefore they were two of the most popular girls. Most people thought they were bitchy while I persisted in thinking they were just in their own little world and they didn't really realize that everyone thought about them so much. This banner proved to me that they weren't bitchy at all.

As the other students walked in and saw I was already there, sitting beneath the banner they appeared to be a little disappointed, as if they wanted to see me become overjoyed at it. Obviously the ones who looked the most disappointed were the ones who had gone to all the effort, Alana and Lilly. They walked in together (of course) and together their gorgeous faces sunk. They came up to me.

"Hi," Alana said.

"Hi."

"Welcome back," Lilly said, maybe as a subtle hint about the banner.

"Thanks," I said warmly.

"Like the banner?" Alana's hint was nowhere as subtle.

"I heard you two made it for me?"

"Yeah," they blushed, together, "We've been watching the news about you every day and just feel that you've been so brave about it all. We wanted you to feel welcome when you came back so we made it for you."

Going by the lectures Annette had given me this was the perfect opportunity for a hug. Annette had said that where a high-five or a handshake would usually suffice for a guy a girl would prefer a hug. I usually ignored Annette whenever she gave any advice of how to act like a 'real' girl but a slither of me was thrilled by the chance I could hug both Lilly and Alana. I did and the slither didn't get as much of a sexual thrill from it as it wanted.

Mr. Cahill went down the list of names. "Tracy?"

"Yeah," said a voice from the corner of the room.

"Anna?"

"Yes."

"Harry?"

"Still sick," someone called out on his behalf.

"Nakata?"

"Yeah."

"Dot?"

She didn't answer because she wasn't here yet.
She was usually a little late but she was so excited about me coming back to school I thought she would have been bright and early, ready to greet me.
But she wasn't.

"Dot?"

I looked out the window and saw her jogging to get here. She didn't have the same natural 'speed humps' to restrain her, that I had.

Mr. Cahill asked again, "Dorothy Newsom?"

"She coming," I squeaked in my girly voice.

Mr. Cahill stared at 'the new girl' in his class for a second and went back to the roll. "Cameron?"

Dot slid open the classroom door and snuck into the room just in time to see me historically announce to the world I was a girl.

"Gemma?" asked Mr. Cahill.

"Here," I responded.

OK, maybe it wasn't a major moment in history but it was to me.

"Hello 'Gemma'," teased Dot.

"Hello 'Dorothy'," I responded, "You're late."

"Just trying to make your first day back feel familiar," she whispered.

Mr. Cahill finished reading out the roll and began to announce today's notices, none of which would interest me.

"You're looking pretty hot, Gemma," it appeared Dot had been saving up two weeks of teasing to hit me with today, at least she had forgot to call me Hootie.

Sarcastically, I told her, "Thanks."

"On a personal note," interjected Mr. Cahill, "I would like to welcome Gemma Taylor back into our form. I could never imagine the things you've gone through and I am delighted to see you back."

The entire room clapped and I looked down at my feet.

The bell rang and everyone scampered out of the door.
My first class was English, the only class I didn't do with Dot. She had to do Physical Education when I did English, and I did Physical Education when she did Advanced English, other than that we did all the same classes.
It was only a little over a month into the school year and I had missed almost two weeks. Luckily it wasn't during exams or something, otherwise I might have had to repeat the year and that would have been even more awful than the position I found myself now.

"I'll see you at recess, OK?" Dot said as she carried her sports bag towards the gym.

"OK."

English was my time to hang out with Holly.
I'd sit next to her and playfully distract her from more important things, like work.
So far this year we had already been told off three times for talking too much.
I found English to be one of the easier classes and if I had any ambition I would have enrolled in Advanced English with Dot.

"Hey Gemma. Wanna walk to English with us?" Alana asked me.

Alana and Lilly shared all their classes together and had English with me.
Since I didn't want to walk alone and be greeted by the stares of everyone while I strolled down the halls, I scooped up my books, clutched them to my chest and joined the girls.

"Thanks so much for this," I said as he headed towards the English department, "I don't feel as weird walking with you guys. Everyone stares at me by myself."

"That's because you are practically a celebrity. Everyone saw you on TV and the newspapers and here you are walking around in the flesh. It's kinda like Nicole Kidman coming to school," Lilly said as all the eyes in the corridor clamped onto us.

Alana and Lilly didn't seem to care about the stares, being pretty girls all their lives meant getting a fair amount of attention. Me, I was still unsettled. I clutched my books to my chest in an effort to hide it and I tried to reduce the natural wiggle in my walk.

"Yay! Good work, Gemma!" somebody I didn't know yelled out.

So far, he was the only person who had yelled something at me, at least it was complimentary, although slightly confusing.

"Have you read the book we're doing?" Alana asked me.

I had. It was Albert Camus' The Outsider, a rather tricky book for 16 and 17 year olds to study. I wasn't sure what I thought about existentialism, it was a pretty big concept to take in. The only thought I got from the book was that it reminded me of the last episode of Seinfeld.

"I'm not sure I get it," Alana frowned.

"Don't fret. We're learning it for like 3 months, I'm sure you'll get it by then," I said as we rounded the corner and into the room.

Seating in classrooms is a much bigger part of life than it should be. You are defined by who you sit with, where you sit in the room, and how willing you are to compromise, it is really a delicate thing.

Sit too close to the front and you are a chock, the back row could mean you're a loser, depending on the class.
The middle is usually the safe bet.
Except the thing is, each classroom is set up differently, so the rules have to be altered for each room. This particular English room is set up like a horseshoe with tables around the outside, with two tables inside the horseshoe (the dorks would take those).
All I wanted to do was to sit next to Holly, if that meant sitting in a dork seat than that's what I would do.
I am pretty sure it's hard for me to be re-classed as anything, since I am now Chick-that-was-a-dude.

But Holly had betrayed me, she was sitting at the end of the horseshoe sitting beside her new Deb partner and my arch nemesis, Trent Sobey.
I know it shouldn't feel like I was stabbed in the heart but it did.
Was Trent taking over my position as her best male friend?
He was already doing the Deb with her, wasn't that enough?
How much time did he have to spend with her anyway?
Some bully who probably didn't even read the book we were studying was replacing me. Holly didn't even seem to notice me when I walked in, preferring to giggle along with something Sobey was saying. She looked up and did a double take as she saw me.

"Gemma!" she called out.

"Hi," I said, doing my best to remove all the rage from my voice.

"You're back!"

"I am," I said.

"You look… great!"

It wasn't a compliment I loved to receive, however coming from the former girl of my dreams it did feel a little nice.

"Saw you on TV. It was so moving. How's everything going?"

"Scary," I told her.

"We should catch up sometime soon. Now that you're a girl you can probably help me pick out a Deb Dress!" she awkwardly laughed.

She knew as soon as she said it that that joke could possibly offend me.

"Look," she said, trying to sound as caring as possible, "I mean it though, let's talk about things. How's after school for you?"

"Good for me," I told her.

"Then it's settled. Today, after school."

Sobey turned to look at me. His eyes practically rubbed up against the curves of my body.

"Who is this sexy new girl at school?" he purred, slowly looking up my body, "Oh hi Michael!" he said casually when his eyes met mine.

Sure it was meant to be a joke, but it still felt gross. Plus I didn't like people using my old name, it felt like speaking ill of the dead.

So Holly wanted to rekindle our friendship, that was great but it still left me with nowhere to sit. I looked around the tables and tried to find a space where I now belonged. Michael could have sat down next to Will, but I just didn't feel up to it.
I wanted to sit next to someone of my new gender, some to look at me with a sympathetic eye and not a lusty one.

"Psst, sit over here!" called Alana in a voice much too loud to be considered a whisper.

Well, Alana and Lilly seemed to be my brand new best friends anyway so sitting next to them would be the appropriate thing to do. I walked over to their side of the horseshoe and plonked myself down between them. A little slice of my old self cheered in joy as I sat between two of the hottest girls in my year level, I must have forgot that I too was one of the hotter girls and the depressing truth was I was probably more attracted to my arch nemesis, Trent Sobey than to either Alana or Lilly.

"Up top, girlfriend!" Lilly said as she extended her palm.

I untangled of my hands from my books and slapped her the High-5 she wanted. Maybe they were going to be my best friends.

English class didn't seem to have changed much.
All the changes were in me; I was a little reluctant to answer questions (and luckily the teacher didn't call on me), I tried to concentrate but kept finding myself spacing out and I had to continue reminding myself to keep my legs crossed to save me any embarrassment.

Let's just say there were too many distractions to allow thinking about Albert Camus. One thing that weirded me out was how different the boys in my class now looked with sexual desires tinting my view.
I wasn't about to leap out of my chair and pounce on him but Cameron Heine was looking very striking. And so did 'Tall Jason' come to think about it. I tried to steer my thoughts away because I wasn't sure if this dress and my bra could successfully hide swollen nipples and I didn't want to find out.

The class seemed to drag on and didn't show any signs of the end.
There was no clock in the room and my watch didn't fit my skinny little wrist anymore, so I had no clue. I leaned over to Lilly and whispered, "When is this class going to end?"

Lilly gave me a knowing glance and looked at her watch. She opened her mouth to say something and the bell rang out. I laughed because it looked like Lilly made the sound of the bells.

Well, laugh isn't the right word, my laugh had become a giggle and I'm not just saying that because I was now a girl.
Some girls laugh, I'd say at least 60% of all girls' laughs could be considered a laugh; a regular, normal everyday laugh. 10% of girls' laughs have to be deemed a squawk or a scream and they were the worst people to sit beside in a comedy movie. 5% are miscellaneous, leaving me in the 25% of women who possess a truly girly giggle.
I couldn't help it, it was because I had such a high pitched girly voice.
When I talked it sounded like a 12-year-old girl instead a 17-year-old woman.
Dr. Chisholm said it wasn't as bad as I thought it was but both Mum and Nicole had described it as a little 'squeaky'. I was pretty self conscious about it too, girls with high-pitched voices don't get taken seriously and girls with big boobs and high-pitched voices, forget about it.

In fact if I was allowed to change one small thing about me my voice would be number two, right behind shrinking those air-bags of mine.

But the bell meant one thing: English was over and recess had begun. No one even waited for the English teacher to finish her sentence we all grabbed our books and tore out of the room. I did the same walking back to my locker with Alana and Lilly.

"So good to be back, huh?" joked Alana.

"Yeah, it was boring at home but nothing compares to the boring levels achieved here at school."

Lilly chimed in, "It's Mrs. Hickey's voice, it's so monotone."

We agreed and walked outside. The sun had decided to burn as brightly as it could for the last few weeks now and showed no sign of changing its mind. The weathermen were now calling it a heat wave. What it meant to me was that I couldn't change into my more modest winter uniform without fear of combusting. So I was displaying a fair amount of leg, but as I looked over at Alana and Lilly I noticed they were exposing their silky legs too.

Alana must have noticed the similarities between us too, "I've known you for 5 years, I can't wrap my head around the fact that you used to be a guy. There's not a trace of manliness left in you."

"Is it scary?" asked Lilly.

"Yeah, I'm scared. So much had changed, not just my face and my body but my handwriting and my walk and some of my thoughts. Sometimes I feel like Michael trapped inside this strange body and other times Michael feels like a father figure who keeps giving me lectures and tries to keep me from having fun."

It felt good to open up without fear of being yelled at by Mum, talked down to by Annette or teased by Dot.

"The newspaper said you'd probably be attracted to guys by now," recited Alana.

I watched two rather cute guys walk past. My eyes fluttered over their wide shoulders and strong arms.

"I'm not ready for a boyfriend," I told them flatly, "But boys do look cute to me."

"And you look cute to boys," grinned Alana, "You should have heard my brother rave about you during your TV show!"

I blushed a little, Alana Sturt was telling me how hot I was, if only I was a guy this would be the happiest day of my life, asides from Holly Morrissey saying I was hot. But sadly, I no longer found Alana hot. Her long, luxurious blonde hair and her tight, fit and perfectly proportioned body were now wasted on my eyes.

"You should come and hang out with us during recess," offered Lilly.

"I would but I'm haven't really seen Dot Newsom all day."

"Oh," Lilly didn't sound too upset at my rejection, "Lunch?"

"I'm sure I can spend some of my lunch break hanging with the cool girls."

They both laughed, neither of them would have been deemed gigglers like me.

"Oh yeah, we're sooo cool!" they teased.

I waved to them and left them at their locker.
A lot more people were greeting me as I walked back to my locker.
It wasn't the scary, leery nightmare I dreamed it was. I'm sure some people had absolutely horrible things to say about me but as human nature goes, they weren't about to say it to my face.

"Hey Hootie!" Dot was waiting for me by my locker.

"G'day Flatsy!" I wasn't going to take none of her teasing today.

"Tired of lugging around those massive boulders yet?"

"You're just jealous," I was only half-joking, "because a one week old girl has bigger boobs than you!"

She looked down in defeat at her flat, flat chest.

"Most one week old girls have bigger chests than me!"
At least she could be self-deprecating too.
I grabbed a banana from my locker and followed Dot to where we sat during our breaks.

As important as doing homework and learning is, finding a comfortable spot on the school grounds with your friends was paramount for a decent school life. It needed to reflect the type of person you are. We hung out behind the music room; it was off the beaten track, sunny and tricky to find if you didn't know what you were looking for.
It suited who we were. The whole gang; Mads, Kev, Glen, Dot and I were almost always there, if not all of us, at least two. It was the perfect place to just chat and joke around without the fear of having a basketball hit us, an on-duty teacher pestering us or unknowing Year 7s taking our spot. We had been there for four years and I planned to hang out there until we graduate.

Glen, Mads were already waiting for us when Dot and I arrived.

"Greetings ladies!" Glen said,

I might have been a little upset at being called a 'lady' but the truth was he was saying that a long time before I became a girl.

"Hello good sire!" Dot said grandly, waving her hand about like an aristocrat while Mads and I looked on.

"Hi," I said plainly.

"Hi," was Mads equally plain return, "How's your first day back going?"

"I forgot how boring school was," I told him and the other two who had finally finished fooling around, "It's exactly the same as when I left except I have a bra strap digging into me."

"Well, you look funny in a school uniform. You know, younger."

I had thought the same thing too when I had pulled it on. Looking younger may be good to someone older but it was the worst thing in the world to a teenager, most of whom just wanted their teen years over so that they could start up their real life.

"I bet I can make her look younger," challenged Dot to nobody in particular.

She darted behind me and began fiddling with the back of my head.
My hair had grown a fair bit and was almost at a length exclusive for girls and guys in heavy metal bands. I hadn't done a lot with it yet, feeling that along with make-up, playing with my hair was extremely girly.

Dot pulled at my hair roughly and snapped something elastic around some of it.

"Ta-da!" she sung.

I couldn't see it as I could never see the back of my head and changing genders didn't help that.

"Oh, that's just mean!" Mads said, trying to hide a smile.

"Show me, show me!" I squealed.

If this were any other decade they would have to drag me somewhere with a reflective surface. Not this decade, Glen whipped out his mobile phone and took a picture of it. Dot had given me pigtails - cute, bouncy, high on the side of my head pigtails, like a 6 year old would have.

"Dot!" I whinged.

"What?" she echoed in the same tone of voice.

"Get rid of them!"

"Just leave them in for the rest of the break."

"Only if you don't call me Hootie again!"

Dot shook my hand and told me that we had a deal.

Kev looked surprised when he saw me.

"I know you have to wear the dress but the hair is a little much," he warned me.

"If I do this until the end of the break Dot promised she wouldn't call me Hootie McBoob again," I explained, my little pigtails bouncing as I moved my head.

Kev couldn't wrap his head around the deal, "So, in order to get Dot to stop doing something mean to you, you are letting her do something else mean to you?"

He was right, there was something a little twisted about the logic to it all.

"Why don't you tell her to stop being such a mean spirited bitch?"

It was a little over-the-top considering I could have just taken out the pigtails on my own if I hated it that much.

"Ease up, we're just having a little bit of fun!" Dot said, "Besides, I think Gemma looks cute."

"Just watch it, Dot. You have a habit of taking things too far," Kev warned, acting like my protective big brother, "I just came here to see how Gemma's doing."

"I'm doing OK," I told my big brother.

"You're wearing underwear, right?" Kev asked me, "My mate, Macca said he heard that you weren't wearing anything under your skirt."

I lifted up my hem a few inches to reveal my red boxer shorts, "Macca is full of shit," I told him, "And there's another layer under that. Not a soul is going to see my vertical smile, spread the word."

What kind of extroverted idiot did he think I was?
If this was the rumour Kev thought was true, what other outlandish ones were being told about me.
I bet if the truth got out about me wanking a British backpacker off people would say, "So what? I've heard she's done worst stuff than that. Did you hear what I heard she did while she was still half n' half?"

I assumed people wouldn't believe the more over-the-top rumours about me, but if Kev, my good friend, even entertained the notion that I wasn't wearing any panties what must the regular Joe think about me?
Even if they believed only a slither of the rumours it would make me a sick individual.
I tried to analyse the stares as I walked back to my locker. Were they merely enjoying the bounce of my perky bosom or were they wondering if I really did spend the first two periods giving a blowjob to the Vice-Principal?
For once, I wished people were staring at my breasts.

I liked Media class, mostly because Mr. Ludlow was one of those spaced out teachers. He insisted you called him by his first name, but since he shared the same first name as an English backpacker whose penis I had recently wrapped my dainty hands around, I didn't really feel up with it today.
He also likes to watch movies and introduce students to films they may have never seen. All it took was a statement from a student declaring 'The Departed' to be the best movie he's ever seen and for the next month we will do nothing but watch Scorsese classics.

While I was away someone had (purposely?) said that all black and white movies were lousy, so today we were watching 'Psycho'.
It was that easy to get out of work.

"There are a lot of reasons Psycho was made in black and white. Colour had been around for ages when Hitchcock made Psycho, he had used it himself a number of times. A lot of critics point to the fact Hitchcock wanted to make this movie cheap and fast, but I think it's also because black and white is so much scarier. Anyway, that's enough talking for one lesson, let's get to the movie,"

Mr. Ludlow adjusted his glasses and pressed play.
The movie started up and I tried to relax in my plastic school chair. The titles quickly splashed onto the screen and disappeared just as quickly.

"Wait! Who knows how this movie ends?"

From the class of thirty about a dozen of us, including Dot, Glen and I raise our hands.

"OK, don't spoil the ending for those not in the know. Just out of curiosity, hands up if you have actually seen the movie."

This time only two hands (one of which belongs to Glen) went up.

"I've seen the remake," said know-it-all Alyssa Mackenzie.

In response, Mr. Ludlow closed his eyes in disgust and shouted, "Doesn't count!"

It was good to watch a movie. Nothing takes your mind off being a girl like watching a good movie. The screening room in our school was new and thus made the rest of our school look like junk. It was like a cinema, save for the rotten plastic seats and the man who would constantly pause the movie to talk more about how great the movie is. A tall, mild mannered man came into view.

"Hey," whispered Glen, "That's you!"

"Huh?" I squeaked.

"You're Norman Bates!"

Oh, come off it! I really didn't want Glen to delve further into his idea but when it came to movies you could never shut him up.

"You're a mild mannered guy who turned into a murderous woman."

"Murderous?" I arched a delicately shaped eyebrow at him.

"Well…not yet," joked Glen.

"I'm nothing like Norman Bates, he has multiple personality disorder. I am the very same person, just inside a different body."

Glen muttered something under his breath.

"What was that?" I asked him.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"I said that you have changed… a little bit."

"How?" I asked him indignantly, "How have I fucking changed?"

"Well, I heard you hung out with those bimbos, Alana and Lilly today in English. What's up with that?" he actually sounded hurt that I was talking to Alana and Lilly.

"There were no seats left," I defended myself, "Plus they were being real nice. They made me a banner!"

"They never would have made Michael a banner, your environment has changed and thus you will change!"

Mr. Ludlow must have heard us, "Shh! This dialogue is real important!"

I returned to facing the movie, fuming a little that because someone made me a banner I was going to become a completely different person.

The incessant pausing and un-pausing of the movie meant that I didn't finish before the class did.

"Just an example of how perfect black and white can be, ladies and gentlemen,"

Mr. Ludlow called out over the top of us grabbing our books and leaving, "Next class make sure you've read chapter two in your yellow books. If you have an old text book I think it's chapter three. I promise you all we will be doing work next lesson."

"All I'm saying is," Glen restarted as soon as we left the screening room, "read any book, any creature will naturally adapt to its environment and since your environment is changing, drastically in some parts, you are going to change."

I had been quietly stewing in his previous comments all movie and wasn't going to take them lying down. "I'll agree with you there. But I think the changes are going to be too small to notice. I mean your environment is subtly changing too - your best friend just changed genders!"

"I'm not saying change is a bad thing," Glen was getting a little flustered, "But you can't deny you are a different person now than you were two weeks ago!"

This was ridiculous!

"Yes, two weeks ago I had a cock and now I have tits and a vagina and a chipmunk voice! But I still feel the same in my mind, Glen!"

"Yeah, whatever," huffed Glen.

It wasn't an admission of defeat by any means but at least I didn't have to debate him anymore.

I wasn't looking forward to lunch. I was sick of Dot mocking me and was still fuming about Glen. I had often been angry with one of them going into lunch but at least I had the other one to vent my frustrations to. Now I was annoyed with both of them and had no one to turn to. I mean I could talk to Mads but he is so non-confrontational that we never wants to get involved or I could talk to Kev but I was finding him a bit pervy lately.
I wasn't an idiot, I knew that my transformation was hard on them too, but I expected them to cut me some slack and not the other way around.

But an opportunity had arisen, both Dot and Glen were buying their lunch from the canteen today and had left me alone by my locker. I looked around, only to catch the sight of Alana and Lilly waving happily at me. It was like finding an oasis in the middle of a frustrating desert.
I practically skipped to them.

"G'day Gemma!" Lilly said pleasantly.

"Hi!" I said back, "Can I hang out with you guys?"

"Of course you can!" Alana said excitedly.

"Awesome!"

Problem solved!

The popular girls all hung out at the tennis courts.
It was nice and private, surrounded by leafy hedges and like behind the music room was never ventured to by teachers. I followed the girls up the path and onto the bench that surrounded the courts. We weren't the only girls there; Holly's friend Alison was there as were some other popular girls.

"Is it cool if Gemma eats lunch with us?" asked Alana.

She didn't need any answer because she was the unofficial leader anyway but she got answers just the same. I sat safely away from possible scorn between Lilly and Alana. Mum had made me some BBQ chicken sandwiches as a treat and I nibbled on them quietly as the other girls gossiped.

"So, are you happy to be back, Gemma?" Alison asked me as she ate her yoghurt.

"Actually, now I am. Staying at home was getting boring. But I will admit it's been kinda scary coming back here where everyone knows me and knows what happened to me."

"Well," cooed the super friendly Becca, "I think you're being really brave."

"Yeah," I joked, "I hear that a lot."

"And you're doing really well. If I didn't know any better I would have thought you had been a girl all your life."

"It must be tough, I mean you fell right into the deep end. No training bra for you, you went straight to the heavy stuff," Alison said, "What are you, a D-cup?"

"Yep."

"Wow! I don't think anyone else here is a D, right? I mean I'm a C," Alison certainly had a nice pair of her own.

"Just an A here," Becca said.

"Large B, small C," revealed Alana.

"A," said Lilly.

"A small B over here," Danielle said.

I looked at the line of beautiful girls and realised fate had indeed been cruel to me. Fate, and my genes, for Mum and Nicole were both equally cursed.

"Don't rub it in," I grumbled. I had found a whole other social group to hang out with but it seems the teasing topics were always going to be the same.

"No, I'm jealous. I wish I could be as curvy as you and be able to pull it off. You pull it off so well. I'd look silly with big boobs," said Lilly as she sized me up.

The popular girl clan nodded silently in agreement.
They weren't teasing me?
They were jealous?
For the first time I looked down at the fleshy protrusions jutting out and I felt a tiny amount of pride.
Don't get me wrong I would easily trade with any girl sitting before me but it was a little comforting to know they would be just as happy to trade.

They all had questions.
Everyone I talked to seemed to have a thousand questions to ask me.
Every conversation I had these days was about me.
Some people would relish the chance to be the centre of attention and you know what? I was one of those people.
All of my life I had been wanting to talk about myself but I never had anything to say and the things I did say could never hold anyone's interest for very long.
I was unremarkable.
But now people would hang on my every word as if my next sentence could very well be the meaning of life.

"If I am going to have a chance at a 'normal' life I am going to have to move overseas. I mean, I am not famous in any other country so it will be easy to just be a girl and not be 'Gemma Taylor'. More than anything I just want to fit in."

"Where would you go?" asked Alana, leaning on her hand and staring at me.

"America or the UK, I guess. Maybe Canada, somewhere where the beaches are still decent."

They wanted to know what I thought about boys.

"I like them. I used to really wonder why girls are attracted to guys and now I know. But I'm scared of them because I know exactly what they think about. I can look them in the eye and see all the dirty thoughts flying through their heads."

"Oh, come on! Girls have dirty thoughts too!" said Alison, "We are not as innocent as you think."

Well the truth was I didn't think Alison was that innocent.
If I believed even half the stories I had been told, not only did she have a lot of dirty thoughts she acted on them quite frequently. But I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt because I was the subject of a lot of rumours too.

Slowly but surely the conversation drifted away from being about me, which was fine. This was my first real peek into how girls talk, I felt like I was a researcher hiding in the jungle to observe the behaviour of a species I knew nothing about. To tell you the truth there was no startling revelations, no secret girls' business, just girls talking about things. They talked about a lot of different things: classes, movies, music, weekend plans, they didn't even talk about boys that much. However the one thing they talked about the most was one subject I really didn't want to discuss.

The Deb.

"Yeah, the one I'm looking at is like a fitted bodice and the skirt is like this whole separate piece."

"What sort of neckline does it have?"

"It's like an A-line thing, I don't have too much to show off."

I quickly turned away from those two girls before I was confronted.
I found comfort with two other girls.

"You looking forward to practise tonight?"

"No, Scotty can't waltz for shit! He better look good in a suit or I'll have to admit to Karen that I picked wrong!"
Damn it!
Another conversation about that stupid social event.
I spun around to seek refuge with the last group of girls.

"So Gemma, we all think you should do your Deb!"

Uh oh! Direct hit!

"Huh?"

"Well," smiled Alana, "It's a perfect opportunity to announce to the world that you are a girl and proud!"

I didn't have the heart to tell her that I wasn't proud to be a girl.

"Maybe," I noncommittally mumbled, "I'm not sure that my Mum would let me do it."

My lie was caught out as soon as I said it.

"We all saw the interview, Gemma. She's dying to dress up her little girl!"

Damn it! I had forgot about that!

"You don't want to disappoint your Mum do you?" Alana turned on a sad puppy dog look that she had perfected from years of not getting her way, she had gotten extremely good at it over the years.

But it didn't work on me.

"I'm just not sure that I'm ready for such a big event."

"At least promise us you'll think about it."

The girls were driving a very hard bargain.

"I'm not promising anything."

"I know we are already a month into practise but Mrs. Coleman said since you are such a strong dancer you'd be able to pick it up real easy."

They weren't letting go.

Aside from the Deb Ball ambush, lunch with the Group A Girls was really quite nice. They didn't tease me at all, they were interested in what I had to say. This wasn't going to be my permanent lunch location but it was certainly a nice breath of fresh air.
I wondered if I would have had such a nice time talking if I was still male. I would have enjoyed the scenery a little more, sure but could have I had the same connection?

Dot was angry that I didn't join her for lunch.
She would have been much angrier if I had told her the truth.
As far as Dot was concerned I went to the principal's office to go over a few bits and pieces. I'm not sure why but Dot didn't like my new circle of friends and never had.
But from the other side of the fence they didn't have a problem with Dot at all, in fact they hardly noticed her.
Glen didn't seem to mind as much and also seemed to have completely forgotten about our little disagreement. He was back to his absent-minded, cheerful self.

We didn't get to catch up long because instead of going with them to our Literature class I had a different class of my own to go to.
For the next couple of days while I adjusted to school Annette would be taking me out of the last two periods for a special adjustment meeting.
It was a mixed blessing; I would get out of class but I would have to spend time with Annette.

"Hello Gemma," she beamed her fake smile at me.

"Hi," I said as I sat down in the meeting room with her.

"So," she said as she busily shuffled some papers, "Gemma," she shuffled some more, "How is school going?"

"Good, I guess," I said squirming in my chair. I wasn't a fan of how much leg was exposed when I sat down. "School is school."

"How is everyone treating you?" Annette asked me.

"Everyone has been really good. The girls have accepted me which is nice," I smiled softly as I thought of my new acquaintances.

Annette let out a sigh of relief, like I was telling her unexpected news,

"That's great to hear, Gemma. Teenage girls can be very petty creatures. I hadn't been through a one thousandth of what you have been through and yet I had a difficult time in high school."

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair as if weighty, bad memories came tumbling out of her mind and landed painfully on her lap.

"So, nobody has been mean to you at all? This must be a terrific school."

"Well, there have been some hurtful rumours but nothing has been said to my face, so I'm OK with it. But I had lunch with some girls and they were real nice."

Annette fiddled with her glasses and looked at me from behind them.

"You're making new friends and that is to be expected, just don't be too surprised if you find some of old friendships becoming more problematic."

Problematic would be precisely how I would explain old friendships at the moment.
I was amazed that Annette was right about something for once but I didn't let on that was what was happening.

"Problematic?" I furrowed my brow in mock confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Well, there are many things that can happen to friendships. They're very tricky things to keep running smoothly. I see a friendship like a rope being held by two people driving cars."

Annette leaned forward and talked to me rather than at me, "When you are both travelling in the same direction and at the same speed, it's easy to keep a hold of the rope. But sometimes you want to go in another directions or they are not progressing at the same speed or an obstacle get in the way and no matter how tight your grip is, the rope is going to come out of your hands."

It was a slightly clunky metaphor but I knew exactly what Annette meant.
Not only were Dot and I always going in the same direction I am pretty sure we were driving the same make of car.
But now, I was driving a brand new car, something I was reminded of by my massive 'headlights', and we seemed to be veering away from each other slightly.
Maybe eventually we would come to a fork in the road and we would have to let go but I was pretty sure all it would take to fix our companionship would be a little corrective steering.

"And how are you coping with your feminine urges?" Annette asked, as comfortably as if she was asking me the time.

I thought about it, "It's weird coming back here and suddenly finding guys I have known for years very attractive. It's like I've been wearing a blindfold all my life and finally I've taken them off."

Clumsy metaphors must be the order of the day.
I wasn't lying to Annette, a stroll through the school grounds was an exercise in confusion. I had started to notice how attracted I was to some of the male students, all the while ignoring girls that I had fancied a few short weeks ago.

"Well, that's understandable, Gemma," she said as if she had handled this problem one hundred times before.

"But there's no way I'm going to do anything with them!" I stated adamantly

"And that's wise. Getting involved with any sort of romantic relationship while trying to cope with the millions of pressures you are going through would probably not work out to your favour."

My mind wandered over to the only other person in the country who could possibly understand what I was going through,

"Has Mr. Draffen ever been involved in a romantic relationship?"

"No, he is much too shy. He spends a lot of time alone," Annette told me.

As well as looking after me, Annette also cared for John Draffen.
In fact, while I was skinny dipping at the beach on the weekend, she was in Sydney looking after John.

"What's John like?" I asked.

"He's very troubled. Very quiet. Does an incredible amount of reading. Anything to get out of his own head. The only time I've seen him happy is when he is with his kids. He loves those kids. He asked about you too."

I guess it made sense, even a misanthrope such as himself would have heard the news about me but I was still surprised that he would ask about me.

"What did he want to know?"

"How you were doing and what you were like. The same things you are wondering about him. He's been reading all the newspaper stories about you. I think he's amazed with how well you're taking it all."

I left Meeting Room C with my head held high because John Draffen thought I was doing really well. That was high praise indeed. My gait was a little different, now that I was feeling so triumphant, I felt my dress swishing against my thighs as I walked. I had finished my first day of school and all in all it wasn't that bad. It wasn't that much different, the key ingredients remained; boring teachers, cheeky friends and a torrent of useless information. I had talked to Annette for a little while after the bell rang so the corridors were thinning out.
People wouldn't stop staring at me though.
I kept wondering what they wanted to see, as I looked just the same as most of the Year 11 girls.
I guess the fact that I used to look like a Year 11 boy was enough reason.

A pretty girl in a short school uniform was waiting for me, a pretty girl in a short school uniform.

"You made it, Gemma!" Holly said, alone in the Common Room, where our lockers are kept.

"Yeah, sorry, my shrink wouldn't let me go," I whinged as I quickly grabbed my school bag.

"So, how was your first day?"

I silently told myself that soon I wouldn't be able to be asked that question again because I was sick of it.

"Not horrible. Being a girl isn't that bad," I sighed as we began the short walk to Holly's house.

"See? I told you it was good fun."

"I didn't say fun, I just said not bad."

"Well, you seemed to have fun, Alison told me that you hung out with her and the other girls at lunch."

"There is some truth to that."

"So?" Holly asked me.

" 'So' what?" I asked Holly.

"How was being one of the 'cool chicks' for the day?"

"It was OK," I said non-committedly,

I wasn't sure how I felt about anything these days.

"Alison said that if she didn't know better she would have never guessed you were a guy, the way you were gossiping and giggling."

"I was not gossiping and giggling!" I said, sounding offended as if she had accused me of 'sucking and swallowing' instead of 'gossiping and giggling'.

To me, both were equally girly and thus had to be dismissed at all times.

"OK," I slowly said, "I may have laughed once or twice, I will admit to laughing. But I've been gone for two weeks and I've never been one for gossip so I don't think I would really be able to keep up with the likes of Gossip Queen Alison Sorokin."

"Why didn't you hang out with Dot and Glen?"

"No reason," I lied.

"No, tell me," Holly saw right through it.

"I was just sick of their constant teasing and I needed a little break,"

I sounded hurt.

"Gemma, they're just having fun with you. You know what they're like."

"I know, I just wish they'd cut me some slack!"

"Hey Gemma! Over here!" someone that wasn't Holly called out.

And like anyone whose name had been called out I looked in the general direction of the noise.
CLICK!
Right in my eyes!
A photographer, no four of them stood across the road from us and were crossing towards us, taking photos all the same.
I began to walk a little quicker, shielding my face from them.
I really didn't want to be a celebrity today.

"Gemma! Please! Just one!" they called out as they tried to keep up.

"Is it always like this?" Holly asked, sounding slightly scared.

"No," I honestly told her, "They must have heard I was going to school today and getting a pic of me in my school uniform carrying my bag will probably get them a few bucks."

"Let them get it and maybe then they'll leave you alone. Otherwise they might bug you all week."

I stopped in my tracks, still shielding my face from the stare of the lenses.

"Photo guys," I addressed my foes, "If I pose for a few pictures will you promise to leave me alone for a while?"

There was a brisk silence while the professional pests non-verbally agreed.

"Of course, that's all we are here for."

Slowly, I turned and looked my antagonists in their lenses.
I adjusted my face into the happy position and 'posed' for the men.
I wasn't quite sure what to do with my hands, so they clutched one another, nervously.

"Big smile, big smile, very nice, very nice!" called one of the people behind the clicks and cameras.

"Any truth to the rumours that you are doing the next season on Dancing with the Stars?"

I actually had to laugh (OK giggle!) at that one.

"No truth whatsoever," I said, feeling slightly more relaxed.

"How was your first day at school?"

Maybe I was never going hear the end of that question.

"Fine."

"What about the rumour that you are considering to do a shoot for FHM?"

"Nothing in that one, I'm afraid."

"Get your pretty blonde friend to pose with you!"

I looked around, startled to see that Holly wasn't beside me but had scurried off to stand by the hedges that surround our school.

"Holly!" I called out, "Come over here!"

I knew she was a natural show off so the lure of the national press would easily overcome any hesitancy that she had.
She looked at me and shook her head,

"No thanks."

Her loss, I thought as I posed a little more for the cameras.
I giggled nervously as I pulled a few poses from photos of celebrities I had seen, making sure the camera got my good side.
The cameras clicked and whirred as I smiled.
Having all this attention dumped on me was cheering me up.
On second thought, I kinda enjoy being a celebrity.
What a bizarre first day of school!

CHAPTER 17

"Do you think you'd be able to give the best blow jobs in the world, Gem? I mean, no other girl has the same insight into what guys find pleasurable."

I didn't like this question. I didn't want to answer it or even think about it. I was trying to figure out my life and questions like this were just annoyances. And the fact my supposed 'best friend' was asking them only made it worse.

"I mean with your body and your old experiences you are the perfect sex machine," Dot wouldn't shut up, "Do you know who you should have sex with? John Draffen! Think about it, you both know exactly what to do to pleasure each other. I mean he's a little old but I'm sure he goes off like a frog in a sock!"

It was only my second day at school and already I was sick of Dot. I could take a little joking around but all Dot could do is make fun of me, she seemed incapable of discussing anything else. She wanted to talk about everything; my 'girly' walk, my new found attraction to boys, my boobs and she was giving me hell over the very slight amount of make-up Mum had put on my face this morning.
I was thoroughly sick of it.
As long as this continued we were best friends in title only. During her one-sided conversation about my theoretical sexual prowess I stood up and walked away, no goodbye, no nothing.
I knew where I was going to spend the rest of my lunch.
I was going to the tennis courts.

I heard a "Hey Gemma," from a few girls as I walked into view. They were words of friendliness; no one was going to tease me here. I instantly calmed down and felt the muscles in my tense shoulders relax. I was home, surrounded by my own kind: pretty girls.

"G'day Alana," I said, sitting down beside her.

"Hey Gemma. How's your day been?"

"Exhausting!" I squeaked, "And it's only lunch time!" I rubbed my palms of my hands into my eyes in frustration.

"Saw your pic in the paper today. Very cute!"

I had seen the picture. Nicole had excitedly burst into my room this morning to show me it. She had said it was the best picture of me taken to date, I liked it too.

After school yesterday I went to Holly's house. Holly's little sister Fiona was there and she had a million questions she wanted me to answer. After that Holly and me retired to her room. Old me would have been thrilled to bits to be sitting on Holly Morissey's bed with her but new me just wanted to hear what she wanted to tell me. Maybe she still wanted to do the Deb with me, maybe she felt guilty for rejecting my plea for sex the other day and wanted to make it up to me, although I wasn't into girls anymore I would still try and awaken my desires for Holly.

"I wanted to tell you something," Holly began in a way that I knew it wasn't good news.

I nodded slightly and pushed some hair behind my ear.

"Me and Jake," she said, talking about her boyfriend, "broke up last week."

What great timing! If only this had happened sooner I might have been able to spend a few precious weeks as her boyfriend.

"I'd like to be friends with you, Gemma, so I want us to be able to tell each other stuff."

"We are already friends, Hol," I assured her.

"I was friends with Michael, I'm not sure where we stand."

"I am Michael!"

I can't believe that Holly was going there as well. Were all of my friends turning against me?

"Gem, you don't look, sound or even act like Michael."

I'll give her the first two but there was no wiggle room on the last, "What do you mean I don't act like me?"

"You're fighting with Dot and Glen. That would have never happen, you usually just let it run off your back. And you are hanging out with Alana and Lilly."

"Hey, they've been really nice!" I defended my new friends.

"Yes, they are nice but they aren't Michael type people."

I didn't like that fact that Holly thought she knew more about me than I did.

"Plus, you were posing your little heart out in front of the paps earlier. You used to be so shy in front of strangers."

She may have been arguing with me but she said this all very calmly as if she was debating for our school's team. She had finished her speech and now it was time for my rebuttal.

"You have said that I've changed because I've learnt to stand up for myself, made some new friends and became more confident and you say it like it's a bad thing!"

"You're missing the point," Holly said, "It's not that change isn't good, it's just that you're not the same person I knew."

Holly furrowed her brow in frustration and I could see in her face that she wasn't trying to be mean to me.

"I just think you should remember that you're going to be a different person by the end of all this but Michael was a perfectly good guy."

Well, as far as I knew I was more or less the same person. OK, the packaging was different but the mind was the same. The reason I was spending time with the cool girls was to learn things about my new gender. I was now a teenage girl and there were some things to learn about it.
Alana invited me over to sleep at her house on Friday night, watch a movie and talk all things feminine. Since I had no plans, I agreed. It would act as a crash course for being a girl.

"And on Saturday," she added, "we could go to Macca's party. He said it would be cool if you came."

I actually liked Jeff Macdonald or Macca, he was a bit of a larrikin around school. He found it impossible not to talk, which meant he always got in trouble but also he got to be friends with a lot of people. I wasn't sure I was ready for a party though but I'm sure I can just tell Alana I am having 'women's troubles' and go.

I should have used the ol' 'women's troubles' excuse for my next class: P.E. I know I had joked about how excited I was to see the inside of a girls' changing room but when the bell rang out I became quite terrified. The girls would all stare at me as I change, looking intently to see if my boobs were real, or if I had a hint of penis in my panties. And I wouldn't be able to look at them because they would see that as perving. Plus I had never tried on my Sports Bra on before. I knew it wouldn't be much different to my regular bras but I didn't want to be seen madly struggling to get my boobs into it.

And so I didn't get changed in the changing room with every set of eyes watching me, I got changed in the toilet where there was no room for another set of eyes. I took deep breath to calm me down, I was alone and nobody was judging me in here. It was unnerving being so proud of my body one minute and then mortally ashamed of it the next, I just wished that I would finally sort out whether or not I loved being all 'tits and ass'. At that present moment, as the 'tits' part of me was being terribly squished by the sports Bra, I wasn't a fan. However a few test lunges revealed they did reduce the jiggling significantly. The school sports uniforms for girls were rather modest I thought, they had a white polo top and knee length blue shorts made out of that parachute material. I guess it made up for the shortness of the summer dress I wore for the rest of the week.

Since I wasn't occupied with chatting, I was the first one out and waiting for the class to start. Our P.E. teacher was notorious for being a mean and savage crackpot, a reputation he probably enjoyed. I know it's a bit of a cliché to have a sadistic P.E. teacher, but clichés have to come from somewhere and Mr. Dellaqua was every bit a walking, yelling, screaming cliché.

"You are a new girl, huh?" he grunted, as he scratched at his patchy beard, he mustn't read the newspapers or watch TV or pay any attention to the outside world.

"Not quite," I told him.

"What's your name?"

"Gemma," I said, hoping that would trigger something. When it didn't I added my last name, "Taylor." He looked down his roll and ticked off my name.

"Welcome to my class, Ms. Taylor," he said apparently unaware of who I was, "And may I say the P.E. transformation did you wonders, darling."

Thankfully the other victims of Mr. Dellaqua's Physical Education class came out from their hiding spot in the changing rooms of the gym so that Dellaqua's focus would be off me. The thing that used to piss me off about P.E. class was the thing I now kinda enjoyed: footy shorts. While the girls sports uniforms were baggy and loose all the boys where required to don the tightest pair of footy shorts known to man. It was a very public display of your manhood. I looked at the guys walking into the gym, it was not at all a flattering look on any boy that had the slightest amount of fat on them but for the select few of them - those who were trim, muscly and well endowed - it was a sight that made my nipples tingle. The sporty guys came running out, laughing and mucking around. I was surprised how aroused I was getting just from looking at guys' strong, powerful legs and their attractive bums. At 17 a lot of guys were now men; well developed, masculine men.

One of the guys I wasn't attracted to came over to me.

"Nice shorts," I remarked.

"Now I know why you became a girl. Anything to stop wearing these shorts, hey Taylor?" Glen replied.

Glen's legs didn't have an ounce of fat or muscle on them, he had by all definition classic 'chicken legs'.

"Yeah, footy shorts for sports bra, seems like a fair trade," I winced as I adjusted one of the straps that was giving me hell.

"Where did you go at lunch?"

"Just needed a break from Dot," I confessed, "Spent some time by myself."

The last half of that statement was a lie but I wasn't about to tell him I hung out with the 'cool' girls.

"Yeah, well, Dot's getting annoyed with you too. I wish you two would stop acting like real girls."

The 'cool' girls were the last to come out; Alana, Alison, and Lilly. They looked a little different to the rest of the girls, their school polo tops were one size too small, clinging onto their bodies and they were wearing bike shorts instead of the normal baggy ones. I think there was a school rule saying you could wear other things besides the uniform if it improves your performance. But the girls were so occupied with their looks I'm pretty sure beating their own personal bests was the last thing on their mind. As a male, I had enjoyed ogling them in their tiny shorts and I would have flipped if they came over to me and sat down beside me like they did.

"How did you get changed?"

"I changed in the toilet," I told Lilly.

"Why?"

I didn't want to tell her it was because I was scared so I just told her, "No reason," and that seemed to stop the questions.

First we all did stretches, I don't think Mr. Dellaqua was a huge fan of stretching, he wanted to go and start torturing us and that was harder to do if we were all warmed up but it was probably a school regulation to warm up before we started, we also had five minutes of warming down at the end of the lesson. I also don't think Mr. Dellaqua liked calling the roll either, another obstacle between him and pushing us no-good kids beyond our limits. And so he combined call the roll and doing the stretches.

"Anderson?" he said while he held his leg behind his back.

"Here," replied a student who was copying Mr. Dellaqua stretch.

"And now, bend down and touch your toes. Bouman?"

I knew Stephen Bouman was there, his arse almost blocked my entire vision. He was our year level's fat guy and seeing him squashed into a pair of ill-fitting footy shorts did not do nice things to my brand new female sexual desire.

Dellaqua rushed through the stretches and made sure none of us were properly warmed up.

"OK, I was not happy with you guys last week. Your collective time for running around the oval six times was rubbish! Even my Year 8s do better than that! So, we're
going to do it again and if your average time is better than last weeks, we'll play Slaughter Ball or something fun. If not, I'm putting you through boot camp!"

'Boot camp' was what Mr Dellaqua called a whole bunch of drills put together, push ups, chin ups, star jumps. It wasn't fun and everyone was exhausted by the end of it.

The sun was still a little overzealous; it was the tenth day in a row that the temperature was over thirty degrees. Any other teacher would see this as an exercise in cruelty but not good old Mr. Dellaqua, he was ready to lead his warriors into battle. I say that but he, himself wasn't going to run.

"On your marks," Mr. Dellaqua shouted, despite the fact we had no marks. "GO!"

Mr. Dellaqua shouted, forgetting the 'Get set'. Three times around the oval was probably a bit over a kilometre, so I paced myself. My boobs tried to bounce around but they were restrained. I'm sure now that I was a girl I would probably run slower but that didn't really seem that important to me. I ran stride for stride alongside Alana, Alison and Lilly who weren't sprinting but were keeping their pace up.

"This is bullshit! It's so flipping hot!" complained Alana, her blonde hair gleaming in the sun.

"Five," Mr. Dellaqua shouted out to our group as we jogged passed him.

Only five laps? I was already drenched in six laps worth of sweat. At least we were almost done. I much preferred swimming over running but we had already done swimming for P.E. We began to slow a bit and two boys in our group sped up a little. I would have very much liked to keep up with them but I was giving it my all and have nothing left. I had a stitch in my stomach and my legs didn't want to run anymore.

"Keep going, Gem. Almost finished," encouraged Alana.

I bit my bottom lip and tried to push past the pain.

Each stride to the finish line reminded me that the end of the race was that much closer. Wanting it to be all over I doubled my efforts, leaving Alana behind me. My boobs, restrained by the sports bra, bounced as much as they could. I was glad for the bra, because unrestrained they might have hit me in the chin. I wasn't first, I wasn't the first girl or even the fourth but I finished it. And not having to run again was enough of a reward for me. I clutched my knees and breathed in deeply. Selma, who had forgotten to bring her sports uniform again (she never brought it) took down my time and smiled,

"Nice work, Michael!"

"Gemma," I corrected her.

"Sorry," she looked a little ashamed, "You actually beat your last time!"

Disbelieving her, I looked at Mr. Dellaqua's book, beside my name was all the times I had ran the 6 laps and my new time was faster than most, not all, of my old times. It was a whole 5 seconds faster than my last time, I wondered why that was.

An exhausted Glen ran up to me, "Hey idiot," he huffed, "You were on the wrong side of 'Butt-Watch' today!"

Ah, of course! Butt-Watch! Being the sexually frustrated teenage males we were, Glen and I used to enjoy the viewing of the feminine form as often as we could. Running six laps around the oval allowed us the perfect view of Alana and Alison's nicely shaped derrieres encased in lycra for 15 minutes. We called it Butt-Watch and I had totally forgotten about it. That's why my time was faster, I was running alongside the girls that I usually ran behind.

"By the way, yours is delightful!"

I swung my arm and hit him in the stomach as I laughed.

"Why did you run with the girls anyway?" Glen said as Selma, the maths whiz who never remembered to bring her sports uniform averaged out the times, to see if we were going to be forced to go through a Boot Camp.

"I don't know. I kinda forgot. I don't think Butt-Watch would be as interesting to me as it used to be anyway." I said as I caught a glimpse of 'Tall Jason's' manly thighs.

"You left me to run with New Zealand Greg and he didn't stop talking about how hot you had become."

That grossed me out, New Zealand Greg was a socially retarded creep who had little to no redeeming qualities. He would sneak into your conversations without warning and even had the audacity to invite himself to other people's parties. He had often cornered me and would seek my advice, calling me one of his 'best friends'. I think he thought of me as a good friend because I was the one of only a few polite enough not to tell him to get lost. Dot would openly tell him to 'Fuck off because everyone hates you.' The fact he now found me attractive wasn't a cause for celebration.

"Sorry," I said, knowing that leaving someone alone with New Zealand Greg was a reprehensible crime, "It's just I'm learning how to be a girl and you can't get much more girly than Lilly, Alana and Alison."

That seemed like a believable excuse and one that was partly true. There was a lot about being a girl I wasn't going to learn from Dot and after I had learnt enough I could decide for myself whether I wanted to be super girly like the 'cool' girls or just 'Michael' in a girl's uniform.

"You hung out with them at lunch, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I feel like I'm doing covert surveillance learning all about their secret world."

I knew what I said could really piss off Glen, it was a weak excuse when I really should have been hanging out with my old friends.
But he didn't look upset.

"Find out if Alison likes me!" he smiled.

Mr. Dellaqua shouted, "Alright! Shut up!" and silence fell around him. Even the teacher walking out to their cars stopped talking. "Selma has just averaged out your times for the run and it seems enough of you have improved so you have been spared a Boot Camp… today."

He looked down at his papers, it appeared like he didn't know what to do with us now.

"So," he began, "go and get a drink and be back here in five minutes to start our next activity."

That was code for: I have no idea what do to now, go away so that I can find something for you to do. By Year 11 we all knew the tricks teachers pull.

Selma wandered up to me. She was a nice girl, we did a lot of public speaking together and she was very good at it. She hated sport though and would always 'forget' her uniform. It meant she failed P.E. and as a nerd that pained her, but it was better than running laps.

"Sorry 'bout calling you Michael before," she apologised.

"Don't worry about it," I told her.

"It's just I thought you would like it," she said as she nervously raked her fingers through her hair.

"I'm trying to be Gemma now, so I'm kinda trying to forget I was ever a boy."

"Sorry again, Gemma," she concentrated, "Gemma, Gemma, Gemma. There, now I won't forget it." Selma was a nerd, she knew it and seemed to enjoy it.

"Thanks by the way," I added as I grabbed some girly smelling deodorant out of my bag.

"For what?" she asked.

"For fudging the average so that we didn't have to go through a Boot Camp."

She smiled and gave me a wink.

"It's not like he will check it. Dellaqua is such a douche."

People often forget that nerds break the rules, usually as often than the 'bad' kids, only they get away with it.

The rest of Physical Education class was playing tennis on the tennis courts. Mr. Dellaqua said that we had to choose a partner for mixed doubles.
I had to play with a boy, my first thought was simple; I would play with Glen.
But then a plan came to mind.

"So, you and me?" asked Glen when Mr. Dellaqua hollered to get into pairs.

" 'fraid not, Lumsden," I said, "I've already organized a partner for you."

On cue, Alison walked up to Glen and handed him a racket. He boyishly grinned at her and followed her like the sheep he was.

There was no way anything was going to happen between them but it was nice to see Glen so happy.

That left me with a problem - I had no partner. There were 14 boys and only 11 girls, so there was no chance that I could pair up with a girl. The majority of boys came over to the popular girls area, to try their luck. I, due to association, was now a popular girl so I had my pick of men. My first choice, ruggedly handsome 'Tall Jason' was snapped by Alana.
I felt a weird pang of jealousy.
I think because I had been so used to getting what I wanted, not getting things them annoyed me a little.
I surveyed what was left.
Too chubby, too mean to me when I was a guy, too hairy and Aaron Lekakis.
Before my run-in with nanobots, the most dramatic transformation that everyone was talking about was that of Aaron Lekakis. The story goes that just before school had ended for the year, last year Aaron had began to work out a little, which would have surprised anyone because Aaron was completely meek and as skinny as a rake. Working out consumed him and he spent all day, every day of his holidays lifting weights and pumping iron. When he returned to school he was a different person. I remember him proudly showing of his recently earned six-pack to a group of us, just days before I went into hospital for my own dramatic change.

"Gemma," Aaron asked, as if he was reading my mind, "Wanna be my partner?"

I casually agreed.
I had prepared to be attracted to his body but I was surprised how much I enjoyed looking at his face. It was a friendly face with a cheeky smile and large, brown eyes.
I stared into it for a second too long.

"Umm… let's get some racquets," Aaron said and I dutifully followed behind him. As much as looking into Aaron's face was fun, staring at his firm butt was pleasurable too. I was a butt-guy as a man, and I guess I was a bit of a butt-girl too. He bent down to grab some racquets and gave me the perfect view that sent a thrill down my spine.

"So," Aaron said as we strolled to a court, "how's the being a girl thing going?"

Which suddenly reminded me that I used to be a guy and staring at his butt was something I wouldn't have done a few very short weeks ago.

"It's actually not that bad," I told him and smiled.

"Really?" he sounded a bit surprised.

I ran a hand through my hair, it was a nervous tick I had all my life but being a girl gave it a fun, flirty vibe.

"Yeah, it's not all that different."

"So, it's not like learning to walk again?"

"Nope," I said, my hips swaying as I walk, "It's not that bad."

We won our first match.

"High five!" Aaron said in a celebratory mood.

I granted his request and slapped his hand. Like everyone, I liked winning. This body was rather fit, I liked the feeling of flexibility. I was by no means a tennis pro but I hit my share of balls over the net. The thing I didn't like was that my sports bra was working quite hard. Running and jumping and lunging made my large breasts bounce a fair bit and the poor bra had its work cut out for it. I wondered if Aaron found me attractive. Ever since I had gotten back my sexuality I had been paranoid that guys wouldn't want to date me. I knew that I was sexy, I had enough 'maleness' left in me to know that but I was worried that they were grossed out by the fact I used to be a guy. Kate Draffen was certainly a household name and I was scared that 'Gemma Taylor' would invoke images of the mixed gender freak for decades to come. While I wasn't ready to date now, or for even the foreseeable future it was something I would think about at night, alone in my bed.

Maybe Aaron didn't find me disgusting, he was treating me friendlier than he ever had before. I was flirting with him a little too, smiling and laughing as we played. I'd apologise for a bung serve and he'd trash talk the other teams in hilarious ways. It was perplexing why we hadn't been better friends before.

"Good game, Taylor!" he said as we walked back to the gym to get changed at the end of the day. He had exerted so much during the matches that he had quite the sweat going. I wondered what his toned body would look like, glistening in his perspiration.

"Thanks, kiddo! You didn't play too bad either."

I thought about Aaron as I slipped the vibrator into my pussy.
I pictured his thick, sweaty dick gently pushing into my soft, delicate folds.
"Geez!" I moaned as I slowly edged it inside me.
The vibrator was lot more intimidating than my previous visitor: my fingers.
It filled me and my body actually felt like it was making room for it, accommodating it. Not only was it larger, it was buzzing wildly, a feature my fingers definitely didn't have.
I actually laughed in apprehension as I inserted the batteries, masturbation used to be so simple and now I was introducing electricity.
I knew that Aaron's penis couldn't vibrate madly but that small logic difference did not hinder my fantasy.

I had walked home a little quicker today, motivated by the urge to try out my new toy on my new body part. I also didn't want negative thoughts to come crashing in as they usually do.
I had a mission: To try out my vibrator while fantasizing about Aaron Lekakis.
In my heart I knew that a fair chunk of me would be opposed to my plan but I thought if I hurried home, I could outrun my hesitations.
Not only did I outrun my hesitations, I beat both Mum and Nicole home. I was home alone and free to moan as much as I wanted.

"Mmmm… Aaron," I playfully moaned, "That feels so good!"

It was a goofy thing to do and it was said more out of cheekiness than arousal.

My vagina likes to be busy. It does its best work when things are coming and going. I liked playing with myself a whole lot and thought I was pretty good at it. I was a stranger to this body and yet in just few minutes I could convince it to have a real good time.
In my imagination Aaron grabbed a handful of boob and roughly played with it, in reality it was my little hand doing the grabbing and manhandling.

"Sex me good, Aaron!" I moaned in mock arousal despite being very, very aroused at the same time.

If you can't have fun while self-pleasuring, when can you?

In my imagination, Aaron was very excited to be having sex with me, it was like his dream came true. He kept saying, "You're even hotter than I thought you were," and I smiled as he did his dirty things to me. The whir of my little electric friend was a little tricky to ignore but the experience was immensely pleasant. Aaron's electric buzzing cock was thrust hard into me and I orgasmed. I moaned loudly and cupped my boobs in blinding bliss.

"Fuck me, that's good!" I moaned as I was coming down from the impossible high I was just on.

I lay there, breathing deeply only to remember the plastic phallic implement buzzing away, still inside me. I sheepishly withdrew it, wiped it on the bed sheets and placed it in my bedside table, top drawer.

Lying there made me want to have sex with a real person. If there weren't the problems of finding someone who loves you and getting to know them and learning to feel secure around them and figuring out whether they are the right one or not and then dealing with all the problems that having sex with someone causes, I would have had sex with some then and there. I pulled a T-shirt out of my wardrobe and pulled on some shorts. My family would be home soon and I didn't want them to catch me in my post-orgasm nakedness.
They would never know.

"So, how's the vibrator, Gem?" asked Nicole over dinner.

"Huh?" was all I could say without spitting out my ravioli.

"I went to put something in the bin just before and saw the packaging for your vibrator in there," Nicole smiled because she knew she had caught me out.

I didn't say a thing and just continued to eat, looking down at my food.

"Look!" Nicole teased, "She's blushing!"

It was probably true, my face did feel like it was blushing.

I snapped, "Shut up!"

"Nicky, don't tease your sister," Mum doled out some old-school parenting,

"And Gem, welcome to womanhood."

My life was so embarrassing!

"So are you really attracted to boys?" Nicole tried again to broach the issue of my sexuality while watching TV but this time she wasn't teasing me.

"I don't want to talk about it," I said without turning my head from The Simpsons.

I felt an arm drape over my shoulder.

"Come on, open up to your big sis!"

"Open up about what? I like guys, what else is there to say?"

"Do you want to go out with guys?" asked Nicole turning away from the TV completely and focusing on me.

"I don't know, these feelings are all new to me. I'm just trying to wrap my head around things."

"Well, if you ever want me to hook you up with someone, Gem, just let me know."

Her offer was genuine and embarrassing. I certainly didn't want to be set up with anyone, let alone guys that Nicole would choose for me. I escaped into the kitchen.

"Did you like it?" Mum asked me.

"Huh?"

I should have kept walking to my bedroom, this was not going to be a conversation that I was going to like.

"Did you like it? You know… 'it'?"

My own mother was wondering if I enjoyed masturbating; things don't get much more awkward than that. She stopped packing the dishwasher and looked at me, waiting for my answer. Is there anyway to answer the question without dying of embarrassment?

"It… was… fun," I said slowly as I felt the blood rush to me cheeks.

My Mum and I have always had a very close relationship, even so she had never asked me about masturbating before, even after I would lock them out of the bathroom for an hour at a time while I attended to myself.

"Did Annette teach you how to do it?"

These questions weren't getting any less embarrassing. What sort of question was that anyway?

"No, I'm self taught," I said mock-proudly.

Mum's eyes stayed locked onto me while I could look anywhere but at her.

"So, what's better; guy or girl?"

"You mean, playing with yourself?"

I don't know why I asked for clarification but I did.
She blushed and nodded, I was happy to see this wasn't easy for her too.

"Well, let's just say that is one area where I am not feeling short changed."

That would answer her question and hopefully shut her up.
It was true, too.
I enjoyed playing with my pussy.

"So, are there any boys at school you like? Glen maybe?"

She sat down on the kitchen chair.

"Ewww, Glen is one of my best friends, Mum. I'm not going to be going out with guys at school. It would be too weird."

"Well, I'm pretty sure you could have any boy you wanted. You're very beautiful, you know."

I used to be annoyed when people told me I was pretty but I kinda liked it now.
I know I didn't do anything to become this beautiful but I now liked the attention it got me.

**********

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I got to my first lot of chapters was absolutely amazing. Thank you so much.

A huge thank you to Julia for editing. Her advice was incredible and has greatly improved my work.

Kate Draffen (Chapters 18 + 19)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

CHAPTER 18

By Friday I was almost officially a ‘cool’ girl. Lunch times were spent primarily with my new best friends, Alana and Lilly. It was there I would how to behave and tell them about my feelings without being ridiculed. At classes I still hung out with Glen and Dot but more and more Alana and Lilly were becoming my default friends. I had already my weekend booked up with ‘cool’ girl things. First, a sleep over at Alana’s house and then on Saturday night a ‘Cool group’ party. I was actually looking forward to the weekend. The novelty of being a girl at school was wearing thin and there was a lot to learn about being a girl outside of school.

That’s what Alana and Lilly were teaching me - how to act. While I used to think they were a little vapid and self-centred, I learnt that it was just a false first impression. They were caring, supportive and friendly to me, and how else could I judge their behaviour? Since they never knew much about Michael it was easy to act like Gemma around them. As soon as I did anything slightly girly around Dot she would tease me to within an inch of my life. That’s not to say I was a completely different person, I wasn’t. It’s just that sometimes it was impossible not to do something feminine and it was better not to suppress it. I was planning to move overseas one day, somewhere where they have no idea of the whole Michael/Gemma thing. So I want to be able to pass.

Even though I had been at school for almost a whole week some people still didn’t have a clue how to treat me. The younger students would automatically part as I walked down the corridors, making me feel like Moses in a school uniform. Most of the people who knew me as Michael still talked to me as Gemma but everyone else was terrified to say anything to me. Slowly, I got more confident with myself and my body felt less and less weird. As soon as I sat down I would cross my legs, I didn’t even need to remind myself anymore.

Being an actual, factual girl wasn’t that much different than being a boy, it was all the stuff that girls were expected to do that was tricky. I hadn’t dared to touch make-up, partly out of an innate fear of becoming a Jessica Simpson-style ditz, and partly out of an innate fear I’d end up looking like a clown. But most of the girls at school wore some, and for most of them, I couldn’t even tell. They just wore it to cover imperfections, to hide from the world that they weren’t perfect. Most of the world already knew that I wasn’t perfect. Alana and Lilly told me that they would go over the basics with me.

What I wanted more than anything was to fit in. Just to look at me, you’d think I was your average teenage girl, but the problem was absolutely everyone knew that I wasn’t. Not only did the younger students seem to be terrified, I would create a hush whenever I strolled down a corridor or entered a room.. I enjoyed hanging out with the cool girls because I felt this is where Gemma belonged. If I was born Gemma, I would be hanging out with these girls; playing with my hair, talking about clothes and going out with guys. OK, maybe that is a very two dimensional way of looking at a girl’s life but it was what I was aiming for. By acting like a 2D girl I was hoping the third and much more important dimension would somehow develop on its own.

"It’s only because you’re paying for all the repairs to the house that I’m cancelling your grounding," Mum said as she drove me the short distance to Alana’s house. It was true, I had donated a fair bit of money to Mum to get the house fixed up nice. Can’t have Australia’s newest celebrity living in a hovel. Mum had calmed down a fair bit over the last week, now that I was behaving a little better and going to school. I hadn’t broached the subject of tomorrow night’s party yet but I’d probably just lie and say that I am going to stay at Alana’s house one more night.

"So, who is this Alana girl anyway?" Mum asked, sounding a little dismissive of her even though she didn’t know her. Mum and Dot are completely different people, but they seemed to have this strange mutual admiration of each other. I think mum trusted Dot’s judgment far more than mine.

"She’s a new friend. She’s been teaching me stuff. Her Dad’s a lawyer."

"Is he cute or single?" Mum asked. Somehow, me being a girl meant my Mum now thought it was OK for her to talk about romance with me.

"I don’t know," I huffed, staring out of the car window.

"So why haven’t I met this Alana girl before?"

"Because she doesn’t hang with the same people I used to."

"You’re hanging out with different people now?"

"I’m still friends with my old friends, Mum. I just have more friends now." I wasn’t going to say anymore about it, because if I did I would be sure to open up and say everything. I just squirmed in the seat and stared at the sun going down.

Alana’s house was incredible. As a kid, I never really felt our family was poor until I started going around to other people’s houses. I’m glad I wasn’t friends with Alana earlier because her hallway alone would have made me feel like we were living in a cardboard box. I couldn’t feel too jealous now; I had enough money to buy a house exactly like it. "Gemma!" called Alana as she opened the door, "Come in, come in!" I waved to Mum that it was OK to drive away and I entered the house. It had only been a few hours since we had seen each other at school but she had plenty to say.

"That’s such a cute top," she commented. I thanked her for her compliment and told her that her clothes were cute too. It may have been the girliest thing I had done to that point. Talking about clothes, admiring a girl for what she was wearing and not her body that was underneath. The truth was, I didn’t really know that much about clothes and I had just complimented Alana’s clothes because I was returning her compliment. I wondered if there would be a time when I would know enough about clothes to give real compliments.

"This is the kitchen," she gestured to a room the size of the shack I called home,
"Wanna drink?"

"Sure," I said.

Alana swung open the door of the giant fridge like it was the huge iron gates of a medieval city. A huge gust of freezing cold air blew past me. "We’ve got Coke, Solo, Sprite, orange juice," she continued on to seemingly list almost every drink known to man. I decided on an apple juice and she pulled out a bottle, filling a glass for me. I gently sipped it and Alana ushered me into the lounge room. "Hi!" Lilly greeted me as she painted her toenails, "I’d get up, but…"

"That’s cool, stay seated. It’s not like I’m a major celebrity or nothing," I teased as I sat my sleeping bag and overnight bag down.

"I can’t believe you’re in the paper, like, everyday!" Lilly exclaimed.

"What can I say? I’m just that exciting!" She laughed at that.

I wasn’t that surprised that I had so quickly become such good friends with Alana and Lilly. They were very friendly, and I think they kinda liked having a new exciting yet clueless toy to play with. I was their very own Barbie Doll that they could teach life lessons to. Alana’s expensive comfortable couches called out to me, so I parked my bum down beside Lilly. "Have you ever painted your toenails before?" she asked me and I shook my head.

"Wow! You’re like a little alien!"

"Not quite, just been on the wrong side of the gender fence."

"It’s so freaky to think you were Michael, you so don’t look like a boy." She was right, sat beside her was a girl, a girl with no manly qualities at all.

"Do you still feel like a boy?" I thought about the question for a moment,

"I’m not sure. I’m the same person I was before but a lot has changed inside of me as well as outside. I guess I feel more and more like a girl each day because I have to. Whenever I do something girly without thinking about it I get a little excited. If I want the whole world to treat me like a girl, I have to start acting like one, I guess."

"Well, let’s start by painting your toenails!" Lilly laughed.

I was resigned to the fact I was an attractive girl, but I was starting to enjoy it. It was fun to be looked at by people with want in their eyes. However, like a lot of girls there was a parts of me I wasn't a fan of. "I hate my toes," I grunted as I swung my foot onto Lilly’s lap.

"Why?" The truth was that I didn’t have much ill feeling towards my toes, it’s just that I knew they were not up to the attractiveness level of the rest of my body, my toes and my bum were letting me down. But Lilly wasn’t offering to paint my bum so I would stay quiet about that.

"Because they’re so pudgy. My big toe is the same size as the rest only wider." The nails were also so tiny, like tiny solar panels on a flat roof but I wasn’t going to complain about my every flaw.

"Don’t be stupid, your toes are adorable! At least you don’t have finger-toes like me," Alana joined in, showcasing her long toes.

"I guess they’re not that bad," I said, wiggling them, "Michael’s used to have hair all over his!"

"Ewww!" said the girls collectively but I was barely listening. Did I just refer to Michael as a separate person? I hadn’t meant to do it, I just didn’t want the girls to think that my toes ever had hair on them. I should have said ‘the old me’ but instead I said ‘Michael’ as if we weren’t the same. Next time I wouldn’t make the same mistake.

When Lilly had finished with me, all ten toenails were a shade of lime green. It was a nice bonding exercise, letting her paint my toenails, but I did turn down the offer to do my fingernails. A little too girly, a little too quickly for my liking. "You’ve got such a gorgeous house!" I commented.

"Thanks."

Another thing that made me aware of how poor I was were families who had air conditioning. In Alana’s lounge room you couldn’t even tell it was over 30 outside, while back home the lounge room felt like a sauna. It was so cool in here that I could see a hint of nipple poking through Alana’s top. I looked down and noticed that she wasn’t the only person affected by the chill. I nonchalantly tried to cross my arms in an effort to hide my ‘pokies,’ this body could be so embarrassing sometimes.

We talked a lot. Well truthfully, they talked a lot and I chipped in when I thought I should. Mainly, I was studying them, learning nuances and little things that they did. I had been doing it all week and trying to copy them as best I could. But the conversation soon turned to me, meaning that I could no longer observe. "How has your first two weeks of being a sexy little thing gone?" Alana asked me as she leaned towards me.

"I don’t know about the sexy bit but I think I’ve been coping well."

"Shut up!" Alana said, "You, out of anyone, should know how sexy you are!"

"Why should I know?" I asked.

"Because you used to be a guy!"

"So…?"

"If the old you met the new you would you have been attracted to yourself?" I looked down at my body. This body seemed to attract a fair bit of male attention and I doubted that my reaction would have been much different. I liked big, inviting eyes liked I now had. I liked trim, taut bodies liked I had now. And what boy doesn’t like large, pillowy breasts? I certainly did. "I’m not sure, I was more into blondes."

"That can be arranged."

I still no idea how they talked me into it as I was very adamant at the start, no one was going to do anything to my hair. "You’ll look so cute!" they said.

"I don’t care," I replied.

"Your hair is already a really light shade of brown, it will dye blonde well."

"Still not interested."

"I’ve done it tons of times, it’s not going to hurt if that’s what you are worried about." It kinda was what I was worried about but I didn’t let on.

"Come on, it will show everyone that being a pretty girl doesn’t frighten you."

The thing about wanting to fit in is that it weakens your defences. And so I ended up sitting in Alana’s bathroom, wearing an old t-shirt of hers, awaiting my hair to be dyed. The girls saw it as a fun new thing to do to their living Barbie and I saw it as a way to align myself with my new friends.

It seemed like I was in some bizarre Wiccan ritual, with the girls singing and dancing around me to the pop songs on the radio. Even they were singing in English, it still seemed like they were chanting weird things I couldn’t understand. Pop music would be another thing I would have become interested in so that I could discuss it with them. I smiled nervously as they took apart the boxes, freeing the various satchels of chemicals that soon would engulf my hair. Lilly ran her fingers through my hair, "Are you going to grow your hair long?"

"No, I think I’m going to keep it this length." Long hair just seemed like another hassle that girls put up with for no discernable reason.

"That’s cool," she said, sounding a little disappointed that her Barbie doll had her own opinions, "You’ll look good either way."

Alana began combing and sectioning my hair with pins while Lilly mixed up the ‘pre-lightener,’ whatever that was. It was a little too much mad scientist for me, so I sat still like Frankenstein’s Monster awaiting the brain. "This," Alana said about the chemicals she had in front of her, "is to strip your hair of its colour before we put we put on the dye. Now you’re going to see your hair go some weird colours, the main thing is not to panic. I’ve done this tons before." I nodded meekly and felt the combs run through my hair. I had reached the point of no return.

My mobile phone beeped and I wrestled it out of my shorts, making sure not to bump the girls holding the acid or whatever was burning my hair. "HEY HOOTIE," the message began, "YOU SHOULD COME OVER + WATCH SUM MOVIES WITH G + ME." It was Dot, of course.

I hadn’t told her about my sleepover plans with the girls. I know it wasn’t a nice thing to do but I lied in my reply, "soz, busy tonight- family stuff. want to catch up for luch 2morrow?"

"OK WE’LL MEET 4 LUNCH BUT UR PAYING U RICH BITCH! LOL" was her response.

I felt bad lying to Dot but she wouldn’t understand why I was over at Alana’s house. "Who was the message from?" asked Alana as she worked the mixture through my hair.

I was going to have to lie to her too, "Oh, just my publicist," at least I got to tell a glamorous lie, "He just offering more press things but I’m turning them all down."

"It must be at least a little bit fun being so famous," Lilly sighed.

"Just a little bit," I conceded.

Once the pre-lightener was all on, we played the waiting game. We filled most of our time by chatting. "All the teachers are treating me with such kid gloves, I bet I wont need to do homework for the rest of the year," I gushed.

"Well, I bet all of them are scared of being fired if they mistreat you. You could get away with murder, Gemma Taylor," Alana smiled as she imagined the possibilities.

Lilly offered up a question, "So you are now rich, feared and beautiful? Ummm… maybe life isn’t that bad after all, huh Gemma?"

"Actually, it may look glamorous but believe me, my life is a huge mess. Being a girl is tough and being a freak is even harder."

Despite being the only people in the house Alana’s voice dropped down to a whisper, "Have you had your period yet?" I shook my head, in fact I hadn’t thought about it in awhile. It was far too scary a thought to let linger. Being a girl was scary enough without the bleeding for days at a time, combined with cramps and mood swings.

"Wow, getting your first period at 16! That must be so scary." The way Lilly made it sound my monthly visitor might as well have been Freddie Kruger.

"I’m 17 and I’ll cope," I squeaked out, sounding petrified, "I mean you girls go through it every month."

"I was absolutely terrified when I got mine, I cried all day," was Alana’s reminiscence.

"Me too," Lilly agreed, "and I got it at school."

"I remember that. I took you to the sick bay during music class." It seemed like every girl had a horror story about their first time and I would probably be no different.

I took my mind of the horror of my approaching period by focussing on the horror of my hair. It had turned all colours of the rainbow, from its original brown to its pale yellow it was now. Alana looked at her phone, "That should be enough time, let’s rinse it out." I dutifully did as she said, keeping my eyes tightly shut as the pre-lightener was washed off. If it could turn my hair yellow, I definitely didn’t want it in my eyes. They also put in some conditioner for some reason but I was beyond asking any more questions about the procedure.

"10 more minutes and you’ll be a dumb blonde, like me!" teased Alana as I sat in a chair with the dye all combed into my hair. I realised that I was just another poor victim of peer pressure, I would have never thought to dye my hair before these two girls talked me into it. I already had big boobs, now that I was going to be blonde people would see me as a total sex object. As soon as the press saw this I’m sure it would make at least page three news. Not to mention how pissed off Nicole was going to be when she saw that someone else had done my hair. She had been begging me ever since the change to style it. Mum would probably be angry too for some unknown reason, Mum had become extremely irritable since the change. And Dot would have something new to tease me about. What have I done?

Before I could begin crying, Alana’s phone began beeping; the dye had worked it’s magic for long enough. Again they leant me back and gently rinsed my hair. I always liked the feeling of people’s hands through my hair. In my younger days, when physical closeness with a female was tricky to get, having my hair washed by a pretty girl was a deeply arousing experience. That’s why I would get Nicole’s friends to cut my hair, over Nicole. Presently the two girls gently rinsing and conditioning my hair were probably the most beautiful to do so but I felt nothing for them, sexually at least.

As the dye drained away, leaving in unpleasant hue in the sink, my new hair was revealed. It actually looked darker than my original colour and I told the girls that. "That’s because it’s not dry!" laughed Lilly, producing a gun shaped object. It was a hair dryer, a device I had never used in my entire life. "No more peeking until it’s dry!" she said as she turned in on and turned my face away from the mirror.

There seemed to be a million steps before I could see what I now looked like and I was forbidden from looking into the mirror until it was dry. At least the hair dryer felt nice. I could learn to enjoy getting pampered. My eyelids slowly reclined down my eyes, cutting off the world. All there was left were the gentle hands combing my hair and a very warm breeze. In my mind I was in a tropical paradise and not in Alana’s parents’ en suite.

But the tropics vanished as soon as the roar of the dryer died. The girls spun me around and I was told to open my eyes. There I was. I was just getting used to the weird stranger looking back at me in the mirror and now she looked different again. I grimaced at how much I looked like my Mum and Nicole now, both of which had dyed blonde hair. But the colour did go well against my skin… It was all so weird. "Wow," I muttered as I shook my head and watched the new blonde strands of hair dance in the bathroom light, "I’m a blonde now."

Alana grinned at me, her eyes twinkling from beneath her blonde bangs.
"Prepare to have much more fun!"

I’m pretty sure I could watch DVDs and drink alcohol before I was blonde, and doing it now that I was didn’t seem to be much more fun than usual, so maybe this ‘blonde fun’ takes a while to kick in.

That’s not to say I wasn’t having fun because I was. It was great just to relax around the girls and not have to worry about the thousands of things I have to when I'm out in public. I could just be me, whoever that was these days. We ate ice cream, which was the expensive stuff that comes in the small punnets. I really could get used to living this high life.

"So, Aaron says he's coming to the party," hinted Alana.

Aaron? How did she know I had a thing for Aaron? I know she saw us play tennis together but I hadn't been that flirty, had I?

I was about to say something like, "But I'm not interested in Aaron," when Lilly spoke up.

"I know! Jenny, Louis' sister said that Aaron was talking about me all night at Jacqui's party. That is so cool if it's true."

Oh. Alana wasn't talking to me she was talking to Lilly. Lilly must have a thing for Aaron and from the way she told it, he had a thing for her too. That was annoying because Aaron was the only guy in the entire school who I could see myself with in the distant future when I would be ready for a guy in my life. Lilly was pretty and exotic looking; she could have any boy she wanted.
Why did she want mine?

"So, what's your plan off attack, you little schemer?" Alana said, ignoring the film and focussing entirely on Lilly.

Lilly laid out her plan, "Well, dress to impress, of course. Wear that hot pink cocktail dress and stuff in some chicken fillets and then remove him from the herd and make my move." Who knew girls could be so conniving? I wondered if Aaron knew he was the focus of Lilly's strategic plan. Probably not, as a guy I was unaware that girls plan things like this, especially with friends. Whenever I had romantic plans, they were much more simple; I plotted in total seclusion so that I wouldn't get mocked by the other guys.

"He's just so sweet and sexy. Did you him seeing playing tennis the other day? His shirt was sticking to his body and you could see his abs." Lilly's eyes widened as she recalled the sight. I remembered it too and I had a better view because I was his partner. Plus he chose me to be his partner he didn't choose Lilly. If he was so in love with Lilly he wouldn’t he have picked her as a tennis partner instead me.

"So, what about you, Gemma? Are you going to be turning your brand new feminine charms on anyone in particular tomorrow?" Alana asked me.

"Nah, not really," I said, holding back my minor crush on Aaron. I hadn't been a girl for very long but I knew it would be a wrong move to announce such a thing now that Lilly had staked her claim. After all, I was in no position to even consider having a romantic relationship, let alone pursue one. It was just a little frustrating to know one of my new friends wanted the same boy as me and if she worked her magic properly at the party she would have him.

I didn't have enough room in my life for a love triangle problem. I had mountains of problems already without starting a fight with one of my new friends. I needed Lilly and Alana to teach me as much as they could about being a girl but fighting was not something on my list, I had already had enough lessons with Dot. So, although people tended to think I got every little thing I wanted these days I decided to give up Aaron for Lilly.

But it seemed Lilly wasn't finished causing me pain. We both sat on the couch together, both sipping our fluro-coloured alcoholic drinks and watching the movie. About the halfway point I sensed she was staring at me and not Alana's massive TV screen. I swivelled my head to see if I was right. I was. "What is it?" I asked, a little wearily.

"Nothing. It's strange. There's just, like, a few miniscule things that remind me that you are new to this girl thing," Lilly said, "I mean you look so real…"

"I am real," I reminded her.

"You know what I mean!" Lilly sighed, "You're so new to being a girl. You've adjusted your bra like 3 times in the last few minutes." She had a point there, this bra wasn't quite behaving the same way as the others so my chest felt a little uncomfortable and I had been trying to jostle my twins into a comfortable position. I was doing it during the movies because I didn't think anyone was watching. "Also, your ears aren't even pierced!"

That was also true. I hadn't thought of that at all. Most girls have their ears pierced in at least one spot and I did want to be like most girls. Alana had two earrings in each ear and Lilly had three. Despite me partially agreeing that earrings would be a good idea, I didn't like the way Lilly was advancing on me. "What are you doing?" I asked, with a slight quiver in my voice.

"If you want," she said inspecting my ear, "We can do it right now. Just one little prick and it would be over."

That reminded of a joke Dot had told me, right before this whole mess started. She was talking about needles, proper medical needles operated by medical professionals, and I was terrified of those. How scared do you think I would be of the prospect of being jabbed in the ear by a slightly tipsy Eurasian teenage girl?

"No thank you," I said as calmly as I could, which wasn't very calm.

"Come on! Lilly did my second set and it barely even hurt!" Alana started moving in on me too. I was trapped. Like my hair, my ears were going to be pierced whether I liked it or not by order of the 'Cool' girls.

"Promise it's not going to hurt?" I asked pitifully. I can really be gullible sometimes.

"Fuck me!" I hollered as the 'sterilized' needle went through my ear and into the apple wedge behind it. Supposedly it wasn't going to hurt because my ear had been numbed by ice. Fat lot of good that did! "Owie, owie, fuck, fuck," I muttered through gritted teeth as they pulled the needle out of my ear.

"Great job!" Lilly said, clutching her mini murder weapon in her hands, "Now for the other one."

"No," was all I said.

"Huh?" she asked as she 'prepped' for surgery.

"I'm done! Just the one is fine. Thank you!"

"What are you talking about? You can't just do one! It'll look stupid."

"Lilly's right. Girls usually have both ears pierced!" Alana added.

Now, almost more than ever I wished I was a boy again so I wouldn't have to go through this whole 'ear + needle = pain' thing one more time. But since I did one ear to fit in, I really needed to do the other one. I slowly lowered my hands covering my ears and cocked my head towards a girl I once trusted.

"Just get it over with!" I moaned.

Shortly after the 'ear massacre' was over with, I found myself in Alana's bathroom, relieving myself. Being a girl meant I was forced to sit down, which sorta had its upsides because it gave me an opportunity to think. Dr. Chisholm had said I had finished transforming weeks ago but looking in the mirror proved that I had gone through quite a large transformation just this evening. My hair was now dazzling blonde and there was the sparkle of red gems from the bottom of my ears. I had certainly become more striking and honestly cuter in just a few hours at Alana's. Was this what I wanted? I had befriended the girls out of necessity; I needed someone to relate to and to look after me. Dot wasn’t up to the job and Holly seemed a little standoffish. To be really honest, I liked hanging around with Lilly and Alana, but if they broke out the cocktail dresses I would be out of there in a flash.

I touched my ears, they were still feeling very tender. In spite of the pain, they actually looked really good. But there were a lot of rules, I would have to rub my ears with alcohol 3 times a day to stop it from getting infected and I had to keep these studs in for ages before I could take them out. Alana was nice enough to give me Garnet studs, because she told me that was my birthstone. I didn’t much care for all that nonsense but they were pretty and made of surgical stainless steel so they wouldn’t aid infections. Lilly had briefly mentioned piercing my belly button but I think she was just trying to scare me.

"Gemma, we are so proud of you," Lilly told me when I came back from the toilet.

"Why’s that?" I asked as I plopped myself on the couch.

"Well, it’s just how you never give up. If I woke up two weeks ago as a dude I would still be crying. But look at you, two weeks in and you’re dyeing your hair and piercing your ears like a regular girl. You’ve been prepared to learn all there is to know and you’ve been so nice to me and Alana. You’ve been so great about it all."

"Thanks," I smiled, "That’s exactly what I needed to hear." I blinked back a few tears and the girls, sensing that something was coming up, hugged me. My boobs squished up against my new friends in an uncomfortable way.

"Damn this bra!" I said, ruining what was quickly becoming a slightly too saccharine moment. The girls laughed knowingly, something that Glen and even Dot couldn’t do. But as long as my boobs were big enough to stick out like that I was a slave to the bra.

"Just take it off! You’re among friends," Alana said as she passed me another sweet, fizzy alcoholic drink. She had a point, if I wasn’t comfortable why bother enduring the irritation of an ill-fitting bra. I ducked into the hallway, whipped off my top, shucked my bra and pulled my top back on. It was all done in less than 10 seconds. I walked back into the room, clutching my bra.

It was then I was attacked.

Hit square in the head by a rogue pillow. The culprit laughed as I stood there momentarily bewildered. Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but I didn’t have time to let it cool. I quickly picked the pillow and tossed it with mock fury at Lilly. It hit her in her face and she squealed. "It wasn’t me!" she laughed, "It was little Miss Innocent over there!" Lilly pointed an accusing finger at Alana.

Alana opened her mouth in shock and was about to protest when she was hit in the head by a couch cushion. "That’s it!" she said, rising to her feet, "It’s on!"

And what happened next? An old-fashioned pillow fight. The type that girls insist never ever happens at their sleepovers. One with pillows, screaming, pyjamas and slight erotic undertones. Without the aid of a bra, my boobs wobbled like a plate of jelly in an earthquake, it slowed me down a little but I was playing to win. The pillows came thick and fast. Lilly threw her only weapon, a boomerang pillow at me and missed, it didn’t return to her like the weapon it is named after.. I slowly advanced, clutching my pillow and a seat cushion. I was about to have soft, feathery revenge on all the pain she put me through.

"Mercy, mercy!" she begged through fits of laughter.

"Beg all you want," I laughed like a madman.

I moved in closer and closer. She looked around in vain for something to throw. I raised the pillow above my head, ready to perform the coup de grace. Suddenly and without warning, Alana flews from behind the couch and slammed me with a pillow, right in my head.

Right in the side of the head.

Right in my recently stabbed ear.

"Fuck! That’s my ear!" I howled. I dropped my pillow and clutched my stinging ear. A few tears of pain rolled down my cheek and I breathed in deep through gritted teeth.

"Oh God! I am so sorry!" Alana said, dropping her weapon, "That must really sting!"

"It does!" I sobbed, milking it for a little extra sympathy. I liked any extra attention I could get my hands ons since becoming a girl; I was unsure if that was because I was getting greedy after all the attention that had been heaped onto me, or because my personality had altered. Either way, I liked the warmth of the spotlight these days.

That ended the pillow fight, nothing like someone hitting you right where it hurts to ruin some fun roughhousing. Even though I forgave her for a simple mistake, Alana kept on apologising. I told her it was no big deal, and finally when she thought she had been apologetic enough, things went back to normal. Or at least as normal as things could be, I thought to myself.

"Gem, what do you miss about being a boy?" Lilly asked as she flicked through the channels on Alana’s TV.

"I don’t know," I thought hard about it all, "Everything was a lot less complicated. I think the difference between being really good at being a guy and just being an average guy is not very great but being good at being a girl is going to take a lot of work. Does that make any sense at all? I’m pretty sure it doesn’t."

"I guess so," Lilly said, "But don’t worry too much; you’re doing an awesome job at being a girl!"

And I guess she was right. As I lay in my sleeping bag, between two girls, with my new blonde hair and pierced ears it seemed to me I was doing a fine job becoming a girl. The only other thought in my head was, ‘Is that a good thing?’

CHAPTER 19

You know sometimes when you wake up somewhere unusual and for the few seconds before your brain kicks in you lay there wondering where you are and what is going on? That’s what happened to me when I woke up in Alana’s lounge room in a weird body and between two girls. It had happened a few times before, I guess two weeks being a girl wasn’t enough to re-write my subconscious, which apparently still thought I was a boy. I would lay semi-comatose in bed until I would stumble across a distinctly female part of me; like I would brush past one of my boobs or let out a feminine groan or feel the emptiness of my crotch. That day it was my smooth legs rubbing together that sent alarm bells off in my head. I jolted straight up, breathing short, sharp breaths until I remembered I was a girl now. My heart rate gently slowed down as I wriggled back into my sleeping bag.

The other girls didn’t wake up quite so abruptly. They basked in the warm sun streaming in from the windows, stretching out like cats. Their hair was mussed up and they were wearing no make-up but they still looked really pretty. I looked at my reflection in the TV; mussed hair, no make-up, really pretty. Even though I was new to all this I felt I fitted in perfectly. I cautiously rubbed one of my ear lobes. It still stung a bit, and there was a constant fear in the back of my mind that they were going to get infected. But the studs looked good so the girl side of me I was trying to cultivate was happy.

"Mmmph," Alana moaned as she fumbled around in her sleeping bag.

"You awake?" I asked her.

"Mmmph," she responded. It was tricky to tell whether that ‘Mmmph’ meant yes or no.

I asked "Is it OK, if I go and have a shower?" and she made a noise that sounded more like yes than no so I wriggled out of my sleeping bag and tiptoed out of the lounge. As I pulled my undies out of my bum while walking down the hall to the bathroom, I thought, ‘That wasn’t very ladylike.’ I never wore briefs as a boy, I found them too constricting but now as there is nothing to constrict I quite happily wear girls briefs. However they do have a tendency to climb up into my bum crack. I didn’t like it, which made me figure that no way would thongs becoming a part of my wardrobe.

My shower was great. Alana’s water pressure was amazing; it was like washing myself under a waterfall. I thought maybe all the hair dye would come leaking out under the pressure but it didn’t. I was as blonde when I left as when I entered the shower. The process of cleaning myself was quite invigorating, as if it was recharging my batteries. When I was at full capacity, I turned the knobs and practically leapt from the shower.

The simple truth was I looked good naked. The delicate and intricate curves of my body were the most breath taking when not hidden by clothes. When dressed I did look top-heavy but naked you could see that while my breasts did dominate, my hips and bottom were actually a nice counter balance. However, there was something weird about my body now. My drapes did not match the carpet. I didn’t worry me too much because it wasn’t as if anyone was going to see the carpet anytime soon and if it kept annoying me, I would remove the carpet and just have polished floorboards.

My mobile phone told me a truth about the time I wasn’t happy to learn: it was much later than I thought it was. I had a lunch planned with Dot today and she would be annoyed beyond measurement if I failed to show. As much as I enjoyed my time with Alana and Lilly, Dot was still my best friend. Sure, we were having problems, but we were so close it was like we were married and all married people fight. Wrapping myself in a towel (because for some reason Dot hated when I called her from the toilet or when I was naked. Why that mattered? I have no idea.) I hit 1 on my speed dial.

"Hey Hootie!"

I would have to fight fire with fire. "Hey Flatsy!"

"How are you going?"

"Not great, Nicole bounded me up last night and punched holes in my ears and turned into a dumb blonde. So don’t freak out when you see me, I look like a total bimbo."

"Really?" she said, slowly, "But I… Are you… How much animal tranquilliser did it take to get you to agree to do that?"

"Mum and Nicole ganged up on me," for some reason I just couldn’t stop lying, "They said I had to act more like a girl if I wanted to pass for female when I go overseas."

"That’s ridiculous! I don’t have my ear pierced or hair dyed and nobody asks me if I was born male."

"That’s what I said!" Another lie.

"So, lunch?" Dot changed the subject, which finally stopped me from lying.

"Yep, how about BTB at 2?"

"That’s, like, an hour away? I can do that. Want Mum to pick you up on the way?"

"No, it’s cool. I need the walk. See ya there!"

I felt bad for lying to Dot, but Dot would have made me feel worse if she knew the truth. The fact was I was going to be teased within an inch of my life for being blonde now, it would have been a fatal teasing if she knew I had let Alana and Lilly do it to me.

My boobs were gently cradled and hoisted up by the cups of my blue bra, but I spent about 30 seconds hooking it up in the back. Annette had told me about the cheaters way of hooking it up in the front and spinning it around but I liked a challenge. My boobs looked quite happy and felt comfortable in their silky confines and the material felt quite luxurious against my skin. I wobbled them about a bit, trying to get them to sit just right. There was quite an art to getting into a bra properly.

Panties, on the other hand, were easy. Pull ‘em up and away you go, easy as that. And now there isn’t the need to even worry about adjusting myself as all my reproductive organs are inside me. Shorts followed my undies and a light brown t-shirt followed that. And that was it, I was dressed. I don’t know why some women spend so long getting ready, the only thing different about my casual dress now that I am a girl is the bra, and once I get good at putting them on, I should be an unstoppable dressing machine.

"Morning," mumbled Alana as I came back into the lounge.

"It’s afternoon actually," I informed her as I looked for my sandals.

"Mmmph," she said, letting her head fall back onto the pillow.

I slipped on my sandals and grabbed a few items from my overnight bag, "I’m going for lunch with Dot, but I’ll be back in like 2 hours or so, OK?"

"So you are coming to the party?"

"Yeah, why not? It should be fun!"

"Attagirl!" she teased.

BTB wasn’t too far from Alana’s and the walk was nice, just as I had predicted. BTB was a semi-trendy café that absolutely everyone in Marrang has been to at least one, it stood for ‘By The Beach’ which was exactly where it was located. Clever name, huh? It was a gorgeous little iconic place that was as much for the tourists as it was for the locals and considering it was over 30 degrees and a Saturday, the tourists would be out in force. Marrang was only a three-hour drive from Melbourne and thus a lot of Melbourians would spend their weekends by the Marrang beach when the weather was hot. That’s why I had packed my hat and sun glasses.

I felt like a real celebrity in my baseball cap and dark sunglasses, as if I was trying to disguise my self from the regular ‘un-famous’ people. Nobody would recognise me, not with my eyes and hair covered, especially when my hair was a new colour. I wondered how many of the people there were hoping for a glimpse of Marrang’s now most famous resident. The disguise worked, nobody rushed up to me, to poke and stare at the freak. If I was wearing dark sunglasses and a baseball cap somewhere else I might draw interest, but this was the beach so it was pretty much standard attire.

Dot was late, of course. Serves me right for expecting this time would be different. She always blamed her mum for her lateness, even if it didn’t involve her being driven. I stood around the main entrance of BTB, which was also the busiest part of the beach. The disguise was working well, a little too well actually. Nobody, except the occasional boy was looking at me, and all they were looking at was my body. Here was a hundred people, maybe more, walking right past one of Australia biggest news stories of the year and they didn’t even know it.

I took my sunglasses off, because the sun wasn’t really that bright. Where was Dot? I didn’t want to be mobbed by fans while I was waiting for her sorry butt. I know Dot wasn’t aware I was squeezing her in, between my many social events but at least she could be punctual. She was the one who wanted to catch up so badly anyway. I scoured the many faces walking to the beach, looking for Dot. Not one of them.

My hat was going to give me the worst hat-hair. I didn’t want that. I needed to look my best for the party. So I took it off. I didn’t want to mobbed by fans, but I didn’t really want hat hair either. My blonde hair was disguise enough. People began to look at me more now. I should have put my glasses and hat back on but I didn’t. Maybe I should go and check if Dot had gone into the back entrance of BTB and was waiting for me inside. No, it’s OK. I’ll wait here.

It was too late, two young girls, about 11, were approaching me. "Umm... Hi," said one of them.

"Hi," I said back.

"Are you her?" she asked nervously.

"Who?" I asked. I’m not sure why. I knew she thought it was me.

"Gemma. That girl who used to be a boy," she studied my face. The other girl just looked straight at me, saying nothing.

There was no point in lying to them, "Yes, I’m her."

"Wow!" They were suitably impressed. "You’re so pretty!" she gushed, "I like what you’ve done to your hair!"

"Thanks," I said, modestly, even though I was secretly chuffed.

"What are you doing at the beach? Can we have your autograph?"

I laughed. Someone wanted my autograph. I, a person whose greatest achievement was setting up a dominos trail that went all through my house, was being asked for my autograph. It was such a weird question to be asked. But from their side of things it made sense; they just wanted proof that they had met me, one of the biggest names in the country at the moment. Who could blame them? Gemma Taylor was on everyone’s TV and suddenly I was right there, less than one metre in front of them. "Of course you can have my autograph."

The non-talkative one took out her tiny pink wallet and rummaged around for something for me to sign. She produced a long docket. "I’ve got an Ipod nano on layby that I’m buying with my pocket money," she explained, "This is an old docket, you can write on the back of it."

"Thanks," I said. I liked these girls. If I had to be ‘mobbed’ by fans I was glad they were from the young girl category and not the old man group.

"We don’t have a pen, though," apologised the girl.

"That’s OK," I smiled. "I have one." I produced a black pen that I had tucked into my shorts pocket. I’m not sure why I had it on me but I did.

"So, what are your names?" I asked them, as if I was an expert at giving autographs.

"Well, I’m Julia," gushed the talkative one, "and this is my cousin, Gemma."

I looked up at my introverted namesake. "Isn’t that an awesome name?" I smiled and so did she. "Are you girls from Marrang?"

"No," Julia took a sip of her Coke between sentences, "We’re from Geelong, but Gemma’s Mum drove us down here for a day at the beach and then we are going to the movies."

"Sounds like a fun day," I said, handing them each a scrap of paper with their names, my name and a tiny message on it.

"Thank you!" Julia smiled, her eyes bright with excitement.

"Yeah, thank you!" echoed Gemma.

"Do you like being a girl?" Julia asked me.

There was no other way I could answer this question with two little girls looking up at me. "Of course I do! It’s amazing, isn’t it?"

Julia’s eyes grew even brighter. "Yeah!" she agreed and they ran down to the beach, shouting another thank you behind them.

That experience was painless enough. I could enjoy being a celebrity if that was as bad as it got, especially if the luxurious lifestyle came with it. Maybe moving into overseas into obscurity isn’t the best plan. I could live in Australia and become a permanent celebrity; flash parties, TV appearances, movie premiers. I’m sure after enough time had passed people would forget I used to be a boy and just think of me as that pretty woman from the TV. I would then be free to live my life however I wanted. It didn’t seem to be that bad a life.

"You’re Gemma Taylor, aren’t you?" somebody else asked me. This time is was a guy, but he was with his wife or girlfriend so the chances of me being ogled were slightly less.

"Yep," I told him.

"Told you so," he told his girlfriend, "Do you mind if we get a photo with you?"

A photo, huh? At least it’s quicker than signing an autograph. "Go ahead," I told them and they both looked at each other, telepathically communicating the way long time couples can. They turned away from me and I wondered what I had done wrong. I quickly rethought my actions of the last few seconds and I hadn’t done anything wrong. Where were they going? "Excuse me," the man asked an apparent stranger, "Could you take a picture for us please?"

"Of course," answered the stranger. The couple stood either side of me as if we had been best friends all our lives. I stood awkwardly and smiled as naturally as possible.

"You click the big button on the top," advised the man, holding his smile in place as he did.

"Oh, OK," said the stranger, fiddling with the camera, "There! Done!" He handed the camera back to the couple who immediately reviewed the picture. It seemed to be to their approval.

"That’s great. Thanks, Gemma," said the woman.

"You’re Gemma Taylor?" asked the stranger. I nodded. "Can I get a picture with you too?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Soon a small crowd gathered around me, people wanting to sign things and people getting photos of me. Everyone was very polite but I didn’t like how big the crowd was getting. For every piece of paper I signed there were three more under my nose. Some could have slipped a contract in there and I would have blindingly signed it ‘Thanks, Gemma Taylor’.

"Hey Hootie!" called out a member of the crowd.

"You’re late," I called back, trying not to crack the plastered smile on my face.

"Sorry, but I’m me. What did you expect? Wanna get a table?" Dot asked me and I nodded. I had made a lot of friends within the last few minutes but none of them were invited to lunch with me and Dot.

"Thank you everyone," I told the crowd, "but I am going to have some lunch now! See you all later!" There wasn’t too many disappointed people, I think I had signed enough things and been the subject of enough photos that everyone who wanted their brush with fame got it. I gave the crowd a huge wave and went inside BTB to the sounds of cheering.

"Hey, aren’t you the big star?" Dot teased the second we got in the door.

"Fuck up!"

"Nice hair."

"Shut up," I told her as we sat down. So far our conversation was as normal as usual.

The place was fairly busy with people eating, sipping, chatting and looking out over the beach. I casually slipped my celebrity sunglasses on, as a sign I wanted to be left alone by my adoring public.

"Wow, you’re hair is really, really blonde!"

I suddenly felt very self-conscious and try to hide my hair a little but it was so bright that the task was impossible.

"Hi, how are you today?" asked the waitress. It was Selma, my math-loving sports hating classmate. A lot of students have part-time jobs, I didn’t because I was too lazy. "Oh hi Dot! Hi Gemma!" she added when she noticed who she was serving.

"Hi Selma," I replied and Dot just waved.

"I really like what you’ve done to you hair!" Selma said. Selma’s hair was mousy and a little bit frizzy. But I wasn’t judging it at all.

"See?" I chided Dot, "Selma likes my hair!"

Dot rolled her eyes, "Whatever."

Dot leant over the table towards me and asked if I was still paying for her. Even though I never agreed to it, I told her I would. I think that may have influenced her order. "Selma dear," she began, "I will have the porterhouse, medium-rare with chips, side order of mushrooms and a large strawberry thickshake. A-thank you!" I stared wide-eyed at my freeloading, supposedly famished friend.

"Hungry are we?" I asked her, wondering how that much food was going to fit in such a small girl.

"Ravenous." She smiled as if she was very happy with herself.

"Just a small Chicken Alfredo for me and a glass of apple juice."

Selma scribbled on her piece of paper and walked into the clamour of the busy kitchen. I liked Selma, she was a little too shy for her own good but she was very sweet. I had harboured a slight crush on her, back when I could feel that way about girls. I never acted on it because pining for Holly took up way too much time but I think we could have been good together. But now my interest in her could only be platonic.

You know you are in for an interesting lunch when the first question is, "So, you’ve spent been two weeks as a card carrying member of Vagina Squad. What’s your verdict, blondie?"

"I didn’t get a card, just the vagina," I teased.

"You know what I mean, bimbo."

"Well, if I could join the Doodle Club again, I would but being a girl isn’t that horrible at all."

"You haven’t had your monthly visitor yet, have you?" Dot asked unabashedly. I shook my head, shyly. Why were so many people asking me that question lately? "Well, look forward to that. It’s going to be fun."

Dot wasn’t being as reassuring as Alana and Lilly were the night before. My period seemed to me one of the last big scary things I had to go through. It had been in the back of my mind ever since the girls told me their horror stories about theirs last night. Despite Annette’s long lectures I knew next to nothing about my new reproductive organ. All I know about it was that it looked weird and it felt nice to touch. However, I knew that it would soon geyser blood and do that every month for several decades. I was going to learn about this Secret Girls’ Business first hand and was actually terrified.

"It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?" I meekly asked. How could I bleed for several days and not be in pain? I knew it was going to be painful, I just wasn’t sure on how much.

Dot leaned across the table and said, "Let’s just say it’s going wipe that pretty smile off your face. There’s more to a woman’s life than giggling and earrings."

I was offended by that comment. If anyone knew that it was challenging being a girl it was me. Hell, giggling and earrings made up about 1% of my total time being a girl; I had spent a much more sizable chuck of time crying. I had a lot to learn about my new gender but I was quite aware that being a girl wasn’t all fun. However, Alana, Lilly and their whole group had taught me that it could be a little bit fun if I just indulge in some girly things now and again, something that Dot wouldn’t know anything about.

"I know that," I said and it was obvious I was annoyed. Selma brought out the food and swiftly placed it under our noses. She was quite professional as a waitress and I thought that maybe I should get a part-time job but then I remembered that I was a millionaire now and would be for sometime if Dot didn’t keep ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.

And so we talked. Over bites of ours meals, we talked. It was pleasant, if a little stilted. It appeared to me that maybe Dot was holding back a little, biting her tongue instead of teasing me. Maybe she was making the effort to finally be nice to me. Something was making her act differently and I wanted to know what it was.

"How’s your steak?" I asked Dot, who was making a fair dent in it.

"Meh," she replied. That was annoying, if I was paying for her massive steak the least she could do was enjoy it. There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence after her ‘meh’ that unnerved me enough to ask her what her problem was.

"Nothing," was her answer. But she was lying.

"No," I said firmly, "Tell me."

She sighed a looked right into my eyes. Her eyes seemed angry and sad at the same time, as if to say, "You had to push it, didn’t you?"

"Guess who me and Glen bumped into at the video store last night?" Ah shit! I’m not sure whom she met, but one of my many clumsy lies must have become unravelled. I decided to play innocent, maybe I could lie my way out of this problem.

"Who?" I prayed that this person would be easy to explain away.

"Nicole." Shit! There was no getting out of this. Dot continued, "She was renting some movies with her boyfriend."

I took a leap through the only opening I could find, "Yeah, not only did she bimbo me, we had to watch stupid chick flicks too."

"One- she didn’t hire chick flicks, it was Ben’s choice. And two- she told me you went to a sleepover with Connor Sturt’s little sister, Alana."

Damn it! She knew I was lying the entire time and she kept letting me dig deeper and deeper. That was a really low thing to do. I was angry with her for leading me on this whole time. It was such a Dot thing to do, to just sit there and let me squirm. It was almost like she enjoyed being a bitch.

"Sorry," I squeaked.

"A sleepover at Alana Sturt’s house? Christ, Gemma! How fucking girly are you? You turned down watching movies with me and Glen for a sleepover with Alana Sturt." The fact the most boys would also choose spending the night with Alana over her seemed to go unnoticed by Dot.

"I didn’t choose her over you. They just asked first. You didn’t ask me until Friday night." It was a good point and I made sure Dot heard me.

"Fucking hell, Gemma. We’ve been hanging out together every weekend since Year 7. I didn’t think I had to book in advance."

"Well, now that I have some new friends, you do." I said ‘new friends’ but it was clear I meant ‘better friends’.

"Is it too late to book you for tonight, Miss Taylor? Me and Glen are finishing off a Hitchcock marathon and you are welcome to join us." Why she would want to continue this fight into the night, I’ll never know.

"Sorry," I said, a little insincerely, "I’m going to Jeff Macdonald’s party tonight."

"Michael hated Jeff Macdonald," Dot relished in referring to ‘Michael’ as a separate person in front of me. However, she was wrong, I had always had time for Jeff Macdonald.

"No, I never did. Shows how much you think you know about me."

She huffed, clearly hurt by my comment and I was glad. All is fair in love and war and let’s just say there wasn’t much love in this friendship anymore. "I know more about the old you than you seem to," Dot sighed, tired of being catty, "I know you’ve been hanging out with those bimbos at lunch."

"I’m sorry," I said, a little more sincerely this time, "You wouldn’t stop mocking me, so I went looking for new friends. They’ve been so nice. I’ve learnt how to act more like a real girl."

"And who’s going to be fooled? Everybody in the whole world knows what you are."

She just couldn’t see my side of things. That was always her biggest problem, she could never empathise with anyone. "I know I’m not fooling anyone. I just want to fit in a little bit."

"Who the hell wants to fit in? I just don’t get you sometimes. You never wanted to conform before the change. And now all of a sudden you’re trying to be a ‘Cool chick’." She angrily pushed her plate to one side, signalling that her was about to leave in a huff. "I miss the old Michael," she said bitterly. She stood up and began to leave BTB. There was no way I was going to let her leave with the final word.

"Funny that," I said, loud enough that she could hear, "I miss the old Dot."

********

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I got to this story has been absolutely amazing. Thank you so much.

Kate Draffen (Chapters 20 + 21)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

How will Gemma cope at a 'cool' party? Find out in these two Chapters.

Hi there, the author here. Thank you so so much for sticking with this story. As always comments, questions and critisms are very welcome. Either post a comment or email me at [email protected]

CHAPTER 20

The material was lodged firmly in my bum. Alana didn’t want me showing any ‘panty lines’ while I wore these white, tight pants so she prescribed a tiny white thong. Her mum drove us down the shops specifically to buy one that matched my pants. It was absolutely tiny, I couldn’t believe something that small could cost almost $20. The woman at the cash register couldn’t believe who she was serving. Even though there was four females (Alana’s mum, Alana, Lilly and me) buying the tiny undies it was obvious by how much I was blushing that they were for me. But I was assured it was vital that the panties matched the pants that matched the top that matched the bra that matched my earrings.

Outside of the shop were the paparazzi, they had found me at the beach during my impromptu autograph session and had followed me to Alana’s house and then the shop. The girls hadn’t gotten over the novelty of my following troop of photographers and happily posed for them while I just grimly hid my face. I was getting sick of it, frankly. Who needed to see the pictures of me walking out of a shop anyway?

When packing for the sleepover I had just thrown in any clothes that would be dressy enough for a party. Apparently, according to the girls, my random tossing must have been terrible because nothing at all matched. So, although the shoes and pants (and now panties) were mine, everything above the waist was from Alana’s collection. I must admit they had done a great job dressing me up. I totally felt like a life-sized Barbie doll while they held up clothes to my body and got me to spin around in various outfits. The results were impressive. I looked decidedly cute in my little ensemble and I got so caught up in it all I even let them decorate my face with their make-up.

I was excited about this party. It was officially a ‘cool kids’ party, not only that but Jeff Macdonald was in Year 12, so there would be plenty of 18 year olds there to go on alcohol runs for us. I would sometimes be invited to these parties back as Michael but rarely went. I was always too aloof to allow myself to have any fun but I was ready to show everyone that Gemma Taylor was not like that at all.

I wriggled up the path to Jeff’s house, trying to get used to having a permanent wedgie. Lilly was wearing a dress, Alana was wearing a skirt and they were both wearing heels. I felt a little underdressed but the truth was they were probably overdressed. But they didn’t mind, they really enjoyed looking glamorous and if weren’t hurting anyone why shouldn’t they look as sexy as possible? As we waited for someone to open the front door, I tugged at my top, nervously trying to cover up as much of my heavily exposed cleavage as possible. It was an exercise in futility.

“Hey girls! Hey Gemma!” said Erica, Jeff’s girlfriend and host of the party, “Come on in! I’m so glad you girls came, especially you, Gemma. That’s so brave!” I still have no idea what she meant by that. She led us into the back part of the house where the party was going on. The majority of people were outside, swigging out of cans and chatting loudly. The rest were in the garage/night club where an ipod kicked out some tasty jams. Nobody had imbibed enough alcohol to think dancing was a good idea yet but the night was young and the drinks were plentiful.

A pre-requisite for any party in the rural part of Australia was a fire, and even thought the temperature was in the smouldering 30s and it was probably a fire ban day today, in the centre of the backyard was the fire; surrounded by ten guys all of whom were prodding it and making sure there was enough to burn.

“So, this is a 'cool' party, huh?” I asked, mockingly.

“Well, not just yet but it will be,” Lilly smiled back, her exotic eyes glistening. She handed me a fruity, girly pre-mixed drink and I took a big first gulp. I needed a little liquid courage if I was going to survive my first party. I scanned the party for people I knew. While I knew most of the people there, I couldn’t rightly call any of them friends. But I guess that was one of the reasons I attended this little soiree — to befriend people from my new social strata.

Lilly and Alana, in an obvious ploy to get me to talk to other people had both gone to the toilet together, leaving me alone. I suddenly felt the weight of 40 pairs of eyes right on top of me. Sure, they were much more scared of me than I was of them but that in turn, only made me more scared. I wanted to be able to casually flirt with boys without them questioning whether finding me attractive was ‘gay’ and I wanted the girls to accept me as one of their own, because I really wanted to be.

Deep breaths. Shoulders back. I reminded myself that I had the most interesting story out of everyone at the party, not only that the result of the story meant I looked super hot in this cute top I was sporting. It was going to be easy to be the life of the party. I had to be, I was a celebrity and thus it is expected that I am fun at a party.

“Hi,” said a guy from Year 12, who’s name I didn’t know.

“Hi,” I responded. Nice start.

“How’s things?” he asked me.

“Things are a little crazy, as you can probably imagine,” I replied, “How are things with you?” OK, this wasn’t the world’s most riveting conversation but it was a start.

“Not too bad.”

And then the conversation hit a snag, I was too nervous to say anything and he didn’t know what to say to me. If the silence had gone on much longer I might have either kissed him or ran away, just to remove the awkward silence. Luckily, a third party saved us both.

“Rick! Gemma!” It was someone who seemed to know us both. He firmly slapped Nick on the back and gave me a gentle hug, enveloping me in rippled arms.

“Kev!” It was great to have someone I knew well so that I could talk comfortably. I hugged him back hard.

“Aren’t you all dressed up?” He made a motion to spin around and dutifully, I did. “You look so hot! Doesn’t she, Rick?”

It was a tough question to throw at Rick. “Yeah,” Rick looked right in my eyes, “Very.”

“So, blonde, wearing make-up, dressed to the nines. Looks like your new social group has had a little bit of an effect on you, huh?” Kev didn’t seem at all furious or disappointed with me like Dot did.

“And I got my ears pierced!” I said, wiggling my lobes with my fingers.

“Well, you pull it off well. It would have been disappointing to guys everywhere if Dot turned a potential hottie like you into a mini-dyke like herself.” It was a weird but typical Kev compliment. Rick, feeling left out of the conversation slowly sidled away to find another, more accessible one. Kev sighed, “I just wish you two would stop fighting.”

“Did Dot tell you that we had a fight?” For a girl that prided herself on not getting caught up in the bitchy side of being a girl, she sure liked whinging about me behind my back.

“She didn’t tell me, but her Facebook status alludes to you being a bit of a bitch,” Kev told me. OK, that may be worse.

“Fucking hell!” I squawked so high-pitched that it was painful to hear, “I just can’t please that girl! She’s fucking impossible! Why is she being such a bitch to me?”

“Gemma, just be cool,” advised Kev, “You know what she’s fucking like. She likes everything to go her way and suddenly her best friend is in this weird situation. And you know, she’s probably jealous of you.” It was a thought that had crossed my mind. She was pretty but she didn’t stand out from the crowd like I could. Not only that but I was the centre of attention (something she secretly relished in) and I had made a whole bunch of new friends.

“I just don’t know why I have to keep being the bigger person all the time and forgiving her. I’ve just gone through such a traumatic fortnight and all she worries about is her own feelings,” I was working myself up into a tizzy, not at all the fun, flamboyant and carefree attitude I was going for. “Alana and Lilly have been so gentle with me. They sit down with me and talk me through how to do things and answer even the stupidest of questions. Dot just calls me ‘Hootie’,” it was quite obvious that Kev had become momentarily distracted, “I never thought I would ever have to say this, buddy, but my eyes are up here!” Kev’s gaze broke from my cleavage and hurriedly met my eyes.

“Sorry, it’s just so amazing to think those things grew pretty much overnight,” he didn’t seem embarrassed at all.

I shrugged. “You are such a perv,” I laughed as I went to find someone with a little more sophisticated etiquette to talk to. I didn’t look back but I wouldn’t be surprised if he watched me leaving. And maybe a swayed my hips a little more than usual, just to tease him.

“Enjoying yourself?” asked Lilly as she bumped into me by the Esky. Maybe I was drinking a little too much too quickly but I wanted flirty, chatty Gemma to emerge and this was the only way I knew how to call her out.

“Yep. You?” I said.

“Certainly am,” she smiled as she leant down to rummage around the ice, “I’m already in the middle of my ‘Snag Aaron’ plan.” I couldn’t believe out of all the good looking boys in our school Lilly was going after the one who I could possibly, maybe see myself with one day, eventually, sometime down the track. Feeling the joyous yet scary buzz of the alcohol kicking in, I almost told Lilly that I wanted to pursue Aaron Lekakis but I held back. There was more than one way to skin a cat.

“Good on you! So what’s the next part of your plan?” I asked Lilly.

“Oh, you wanna know how to catch a guy yourself?” Lilly smiled a cheeky smile, “Well, so far I’ve chatted and flirted with him but now the important thing to do is to leave him alone for a few hours until he seeks you out. I’ve laid the trap and set the bait, if he comes around to talk to me. I’ll know that he is interested and then I can flirt with him big time.” It wasn’t the most concise or even coherent advice, but I guess it was handy.

Off the in distance, through the haze of the party, I saw a friendly face. However, the face was doing something that made my night a little worse. “Oh, Holly came. Cool!” said Lilly.

I guess I would have agreed that it was ‘cool’ that Holly was here if it wasn’t for what she was doing. “Is she going out with Sobey?” I asked as I watched her and Sobey passionately making out by the trampoline.

“Yeah,” Lilly casually said, “She kinda hit it off with him at Deb practise so she broke it off with her old boyfriend and now she’s with him.” The pair continued kissing as if public displays of affection weren’t disgusting. I can’t believe she would do this to me. Three weeks ago she was so in love with her ex-boyfriend that she couldn’t even help me in a time of crisis and now she had Trent Sobey’s tongue wedged firmly in her mouth, a tongue that would say the most vile things about girls when there were none around, a tongue that would make racist remarks quite casually, a tongue that has never said anything worth hearing.
And she looked like she loved it.

When I was at her house the other day she had plenty of chances to tell me. All that she did was tell me that she had broken up with Jake, not that she was now with Sobey, my archenemy. I couldn’t believe that she would look into my eyes and say that we should be more open with each other, all the while she was keeping a secret of that size from me. It hurt. I wasn’t sure what was hurting - I wasn’t positive I was suffering from a broken heart because I no longer had a deep yearning for her, but it still hurt a lot

Trent Sobey! I was livid but tried concealing it. “Why in hell would she go out with him?”

“Umm… maybe because he’s one of the hottest guys in school!” Lilly said as if it was the most obvious fact in the world. I’ve never found him attractive, what with his strong, toned arms and his perfect shaped calves and his rugged broad chest… Damn it! He was hot! Very hot! It’s a very disturbing thing to realize that you’re attracted to your archenemy, it’s like loving the taste of poison. He was such an ignorant and insidious idiot, why did he have to have eyes as blue as the ocean and abs you could wash clothes on. Still, despite being looking good inside he was all bad and Holly must have noticed it.

“But he’s a total fuckhead!” I fumed.

“Huh?” Lilly looked at me weird, “I can only judge him on how he treats me, Gem, and he’s never been a fuckhead to me.”

Oh, of course! None of the girls know he’s a moron because he’s on his best behaviour around them and they are probably all blinded by his good looks, like the way Glen doesn’t notice Alison is a snooty bitch. It annoyed me that Holly couldn’t see the real Sobey, that she was so enthralled by the book’s gorgeous leather bound cover she hadn’t noticed that the book was Mein Kampf. Maybe I had been judging Holly the same way too. Back when I was Michael, she seemed perfect — a Hollywood beauty and the nicest person in the world. But now that her immense sexual appeal to me has been stripped back I can see that she wasn’t even close to perfection.

I just couldn’t watch them kiss anymore. The sight of these good-looking bodies with not so nice minds inside them enjoying each other was turning my stomach. I grabbed another girly fruity drink and took a swig. At the bottom of the bottle lay Chatty, Happy Gemma and I was desperate to set her free. I turned to Lilly to talk to her about the pain I was feeling but she wasn’t there. A little scanning around the party revealed to me she was currently chatting to Aaron, playfully punching him in the arm. Just great!

The party was horrible. As I sat in Alana’s Mum’s car earlier, I could barely contain my excitement. I pictured myself being the star of the party, everyone surrounding me, listening to my every word but I was currently alone with nobody to listen to me at all. I was having an abysmal time.

But the night was still young. There was nothing stopping me turning this into a great night for myself. As the effects of the Chatty, Happy Gemma trickled into my brain, I decided to reclaim the night. I confidently ran my hand through my fabulous blonde hair. I marched my way back into the garage where the music was the loudest. “Kev,” I said, grabbing his arm, “I want to dance.”

“I don’t dance,” he stated, almost proudly.

“C’mon!” I wriggled in frustration, “Just for a few songs! This party is dead. I wanna liven it up!”

“No,” he replied, stoically, “I don’t dance.”

“I don’t want to dance all by myself!” I needed a plan, “Please… I’ll be your best friend!”

“You already are one of my best friends.”

“I’ll give you 20 bucks!”

“I don’t need your filthy money!”

I had played to his vanity and his greed, but those weren’t Kev’s cups of tea. There was only one thing that truly motivated him, I just didn't want to resort to that.

I got up on my tiptoes to whisper into his ear, but even on tiptoes I came up woefully short. “Dance with me,” I purred, “and I’ll show you my breasts.”

His eyes, very predictably, lit up. “Now you’re on the right page. How long for how many songs?”

Not only was he a total perv, he wanted to nut out the details too. “Umm… 10 seconds for 5 songs.”

He furrowed his brow, obviously he didn’t approve of the deal, “How about 4 songs and 30 seconds?”

30 seconds seemed like a little too long, but I was not going to waste anymore time haggling. I needed desperately to fill my head full of music and dance to push my angry thoughts to the back of my head. I bit my bottom lip and nodded eagerly, pulling Kev by his hand onto the ‘dance floor’ which was actually just Macca’s garage floor.

Girls dancing was the sexiest thing in the world to the old me. There was something about how effortlessly natural girls looked when they writhed to a rhythm. Girls could look like sex personified doing a move that would look foolish if a guy did it. Therefore, I strolled out to the dance floor with an air of confidence. This body looked good standing still and so dancing it would make it a force to be reckoned with. We were the only people on the dance floor when I finally was able to drag Kev out to it. There were 20 or so other people milling in the garage all watching the famous Gemma Taylor drag an unwilling male to dance.

I suddenly panicked. I had forgotten how to dance. I didn’t know that such a thing was possible. I stood frozen and stared up at my reticent partner, who looked at me blankly. He wasn’t going to be any help. Everyone was wondering why I had dragged Kev out to the allocated dance area only to stand there. I closed my eyes and let the pop music surround my body. The relentless rhythm violently grabbed my hips and began to shake them. My hands followed them and a smile crept onto my face. I was dancing.

Kev joined in but was a little self-conscious. After being in the spotlight for so long, I didn’t really care what large groups of people thought of me, it was fine if they liked me but it was OK if they didn’t. At that particular moment I was too busy enjoying the dancing to be bothered by other people.

The pop song wound down and Kev held up one finger, “3 to go,” he mouthed. The DJ (an iPod connected to some speakers put on shuffle) chose the next song, an RnB number made for public displays of sexual prowess. I shook my small but nicely rounded butt in time to the throbbing beats, entwining my arms around my body. I looked up at Kev (Man! I was short!) who looked a little stiff and decided I needed to help him. I placed my hands around his waist and gently swayed to the music, trying to get his lower half involved as well as his flailing arms. “I see why you don’t dance,” I teased.

“Shut up!” he replied as the song came to a halt, “That’s the halfway mark!”

It doesn’t matter how old or young you are or where in the world you live, a party is simply not a party until ‘Love Shack’ is played. When the opening strains of the song began I knew this was a party. It really is a fun song to dance to and it wants nay demands you to sing along. My singing voice was high and a little breathy but skilled from all the practise I had back when I was male. Miss. Manning, the choir teacher had asked me to rejoin the choir again but all I could do was say I would think about it. I liked my deep voice when I sang, I liked achieving the very low notes. Now, a low note for me is one where humans can hear it not just dogs. I just wouldn’t feel the same sitting beside all the pretty sopranos and not alongside the bass boys.

Not only do you have to sing a long to Love Shack you have to jump around like you’re crazy. I raised my hands above my head (a classic girl move that guys just can’t pull off.), smiled and jumped around. The dance floor became a little more populated by people ready to join the celebration of this so-called ‘Love Shack’. Even Kev seemed to be enjoying himself, bouncing around like a spring-loaded goon. All the same he still said, “Three” as it finished.

The dance floor had about 15 people on it now, most of them girls who had little inhibitions when it came to dancing. Guys were always a little more cautious of leaving their drinks behind for a little bit of a dance. It would take enough pretty girls or one special girl to coax them from their comfort zone. That’s why I was a little upset to see Aaron dancing with Lilly. She was playfully gliding her hands over his body. I retaliated by doing the same to Kev, rubbing my body against his in a way that would have felt very pleasing. It wasn’t until I rubbing my butt against him that I realized that I realized my plan was all backwards - I didn’t want to be turning on Kev, I wanted to separate Lilly and Aaron.

“Let’s call this 4, OK?” I whispered to Kev, “I’m going to talk to Lilly. Come get me later and I’ll give you your reward.”

“30 seconds,” he reminded me. I wearily nodded and let him return to the wall with most of the other guys. I came over to the couple and tried to politely wedge myself in between them.

“Hi,” I smiled to them both, “My dance partner chickened out. Is it OK if I join you two?” They both smiled back although Lilly’s looked decidedly more forced.

“Of course!” Aaron said, holding my tiny hand in his, “It would be a pleasure.” Lilly’s smile remained stapled to her face. We danced in a triangle, both of the girls competing for Aaron’s attention. While Lilly had longer legs and a better butt over me I had a top half she couldn’t compete with, not even with her exotic Eurasian features. Aaron didn’t know where to look as two girls competed for his attention. It was tricky for me because I couldn’t make it obvious that I was trying to get Aaron to notice me, while Lilly was openly flirting

Despite that minor setback I think I did pretty well, swivelling and undulating in a way that was probably quite pleasant to men. Lilly rubbed her hands over her body and bit her bottom lip, Aaron found that interesting but his eyes wandered off my body. It was a secret war we were fighting and our strategies seemed to be the same. I was fighting a losing battle for a few reasons — 1) I wasn’t allowed to openly flirt and 2) Lilly had a lot more experience in her body than I did.

I was just getting into it when Alana grabbed me on the arm. “Hi! Having a good time?” she asked me.

“Yeah, I actually am,” I admitted, a little surprised with myself.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she told me.

“OK,” I said. I found it a little strange that she would come and find me just to tell me that.

Alana stared directly at me, “I’m going to the bathroom. Gemma, I know you haven’t been a girl for very long but surely you know what that means?” I hadn’t been a girl for very long and I didn’t have the smallest clue what that meant, my facial expression reflected that.

Alana grew slightly flustered, “Gem, what do girls never do when they do to the toilet?”

“Stand up?” I asked, bewildered.

“GO ALONE!” Alana shouted back at me, “I thought everyone knew that. C’mon!” She dragged me away from my dance battle leaving Lilly, the assured victor, behind. I glanced back at Aaron with hopeful eyes and was ecstatic to see him look up at me as I was dragged out of the garage.

Alana led me through the throng of people, like a big sister dragging her little sister. I didn’t like the fact both of my new friends were taller than me. One thing Dot had going for her she was the same height as me. Alana passed the eskies assembled on the porch and grabbed me another drink. At the rate I was drinking I would soon become a crying, sleepy mess but they tasted nice and made me feel ever confident.

“Did you know that Holly Morrissey and Trent Sobey are going out?” I asked Alana, sounding as indignant as I felt.

Alana ignored my question and instead asked one of her own, “You’ve still got a lot to learn about being a girl, don’t you?”

Yes, I did. You couldn’t assume someone studying anything for two weeks could possible be an expert. I would consider myself a total and utter novice when it came to all matters feminine, but I was willing to learn and that was the main thing. Alana was about to lay down a rule that I actually kinda already knew. “OK, if a girl is going after a guy you never become a third wheel, OK? Just let Lilly work her magic. Lucky I spotted you or all of Lilly’s work on Aaron might have been in vain!”

“Sorry,” I lied, I wasn’t really sorry. “I didn’t know,” another lie, I knew exactly what I was doing.

“That’s OK. It’s just that girls don’t do that to other girls. She’s worked really hard to get him alone and dancing and if you come over with your hot little body, you’re only going to confuse things!”

“I’m so sorry, that was never my intention.” I wasn’t sorry and those were my precise intention. I’m not sure why, I certainly wasn’t mentally ready for a boyfriend but there was part of me that wanted Aaron on the shelf until I was ready. He seemed like the perfect first boyfriend for me: he was good looking, smart, funny and had gone through a physical transformation of sorts himself. He used to be the ‘skinny kid’ and now he had a body that would make most models jealous. I had more in common with him than Lilly did. Lilly just wanted him as another one of her fun little playthings. Girls could be so shallow!

“Just don’t do it again!” Alana scolded me as we winded through the halls of the house until we came to the bathroom.

“And just for the record, why do girls to the toilets in twos?” I asked as Alana slid the bathroom door open.

“I dunno, I guess so we can talk,” she retorted.

As I waited for Alana to finish her private business, private business I had to travel across the entire party to bear witness to, I skulled my drink. If I stood a chance with Aaron I needed more ‘liquid panty remover’. Maybe with less inhibitions and more confidence I could do something that would capture Aaron Lekakis’ attention. Not that I knew what to do with his attention if I got it.

“Hey Gemma!” called out a voice, “You owe me something!” It was Kev, lurching down the hall after me. He had lust in his eyes and boobs on the brain. He would literally be chasing me the entire party until I paid him his fee. And he would probably get drunk and thus more vocal about it. If I didn’t do it tonight he would hassle me at school and at home until I did it. I knew him, he could be tenacious about the tiniest of matters, and this would become a crusade.

He cornered me at the door of the bathroom, where I waited for Alana. “Right, can’t keep running, Gem. I danced to 4 songs with you and now you owe me 30 seconds of face time with the two most famous lady lumps in the country at the moment.”

“You do know you are a total pervert, don’t you?”

“I am well aware of that but that does not change things,” he calmly explained things. There was some noise coming from behind the bathroom door. Alana emerged straightening herself.

"Oh hi… Kev right?" Alana guessed.

"That's right," Kev joyously beamed from being properly identified, "And you're Alana Sturt, everyone knows you."

Alana seemed unnerved by Kev's presence a little bit, "Gemma, are you coming?"

"I've just got something to show Kev quickly. It will take, like, 30 seconds. I'll meet you outside," Alana nodded and walked down the hallway. Kev's eyes were glued to her backside as it swayed back and forth. I felt a little perturbed, couldn't he just find one girl and ogle her? "Let's get this over with!" I said dragging him upstairs. I ducked into the first door at the top of the stairs. It was a bedroom, probably Jeff's parents' bedroom — large bed, ornate furnishings and the like. I switched on the lights with a deft flick of my flinger and pulled Kev inside. I fumbled around in my pockets and found my phone. It had a stopwatch; there was no chance Kev was getting one second more than 30 seconds. "This is soo stupid," I told him.

"Don't do the deal if you don't want to pay the piper," he told me. I started the arduous task of unzipping, unhooking and undoing the few items that stood in the way of a public display.

There were some rules that needed going over, "OK Kev, you are about to see my bosoms but before you do there is some ground rules. You are going to want to touch them because they are plump and round and oh-so inviting but you cannot touch! OK? You are going to want the memory of this event to last but please no photography of any kind. You are going to want to tell your friends about what you have seen tonight, if you do I shall hunt you down, Kevin Owen Madsen, and you will be ended. Is this understood by you?"

He swallowed, hard, "No touching, no talking and no flash photography."

"No photography of any kind."

"Deal."

"Your time shall begin the second you see my second nipple," I said professionally as I fiddled with the clips on my bra. Within seconds I had the thing unclasped and I quickly whipped it off. The fleshy objects that were the subject of this meeting gently bounced as they were released. I clicked a button on my phone and the countdown began. They looked, well to be honest, amazing, almost worthy of the adoration ladled on them by Kev. Full, round and perky, they looked like they were they were the design of a million 14-year-old boys. Actually, it was sad to admit but I was getting attached to the new friends, which made sense because they were very much attached to me.

"Very nice," commented Kev, "I thought your nipples would be bigger but still…. Very nice." I was proud of him, followed the rules to the letter. He walked around me getting the view from every angle, almost as if he was memorising what he saw seeing. 15 seconds had now passed but it felt like 15 hours. "Now, I know I can't touch them," Kev began, "but I was wondering if you could?"

"I don't do requests," I told him coldly, he looked disappointed. Now if I wasn't such a show-off I wouldn't have cared if he was disappointed. But I was just so damn proud of my boobs it seemed almost unfair not to give him a full show. Without saying a word, I brought my hands up to them, cupping one in each hand. Kev promptly stopped looking at me like an old, sad dog and more like an excited puppy. I jiggled them about, more explorative than erotic. Then I put my hands down and shimmied my shoulders making the pair clatter together. I was about to rub my finger around areola when my alarm went off, thus ending the free show. As quickly as they were unveiled they were re-veiled.

"That was 30 seconds?" Kev sounded a little disappointed.

"Yep, that's all you get!" I said pulling on my top and adjusting it so everyone else got a hint of the view that Kev had just seen.

"Well, it didn't seem that long but I must tell you, Gem; they were amazing! If I hadn't been friends with you for like 4 years I would ask you out on the spot." I didn't have the heart to tell him that I would have said no because he creeps me out too much. He was the type of guy who had a lot of male friends but girls couldn't stand him, from the way he ogled me I could tell why but we had too much history together to stop being his friend, plus he was harmless.

The rest of the party became a bit blurry. I do remember answering a lot of questions for a lot of people I didn't know very well. We all sat around in the backyard around the fire and I told stories from the hospital and my first few weeks back. Aaron sat down to listen to me talk and I made as much eye contact with him as possible. I had a bit more of a dance, mainly with girls, like Alison and Alana. Lilly still was working on Aaron. I walked past Holly and Sobey a few times, rolling my eyes and muttering under my breath, I heard from Becca that Holly was annoyed that I was giving her the silent treatment. I didn't join in on a game of spin the bottle because I thought that some guys would have a problem kissing me and that was fair enough; instead I talked to Kev about my breasts for like 15 minutes straight. That boy had a lot to say about breasts. All of this was interspersed with more and more fruity, brightly coloured drinks.

Not all of us could cope with too many fruity, brightly coloured drinks. I gently held back Lilly's hair as she vomited all over Macca's mother's vegetable patch. "I got some on my shoes," she mumbled as I rubbed her back.

"It's OK. I'm sure we can clean that right up." Surely, this was a job for her best friend, Alana but she was nowhere to be found, so I had to step in.

"Did Aaron see me puke?" Lilly moaned, the plastic flowers she had put in her dark brown hair coming loose.

"Yeah," I confessed, "A little bit but it's OK, he still thinks you're cool." I wasn't sure on that last part and kinda even hoped that it wasn't true either. "Are you going to be OK?" I asked. She nodded in a way that told me she was a lot drunker than I was. "Do you want me to call you a taxi to bring you home?"

She began to stand up. It looked like when a baby giraffe stands up for the first time, knees firmly together and a general look of trepidation in her eyes. "No, I'm OK!" she declared as she hurtled clumsily back to her grassy inevitability.

"Oh no you're not. I'm calling a taxi."

"Thanks for this, Gemma," Lilly said with line of vomit dripping down her chin as we walked to the front of the house, "You're a good friend!" I wasn't sure if I deserved that comment. Sure, I was looking after her now but the whole night before this point I had been scheming on how to keep her from Aaron. We sat on the curb, her legs apart, revealing her pretty underwear to the tranquil suburban street. I was lucky, in pants there was no risk of exposure, not that anyone was here to look.

CLICK!! A bright light flicked my in the eyes, blinding me. The paparazzi were here. Not a massive group but the two or three guys that had followed me around pretty solidly for the past 2 weeks. "Hi boys," I said as they revealed themselves from their hiding spots.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! "Gemma! Gemma! Hi!" CLICK! CLICK!

"Now isn't a great time!" I groaned, burying my face in my hands. I physically closed Lilly's legs, saving her from an embarrassing picture in a magazine. "I'm just waiting for a taxi with my friend here. Nothing worth taking a picture of."

"What's your pretty friend's name?" asked one of the men.

Lilly smiled at the men. Despite being intoxicated, this was a question she could answer, "Lilly Badawi. B-A-D-A-W-I."

"Very pretty, are you Chinese?"

This was a sore point even with a sober Lilly. "No! I'm half Malaysian, dickhead! Not everybody who is Asian is from China!"

Luckily, the paparazzi were in no mood to bicker with a drunken teenage girl. "Come on, Gemma. Throw us a few poses!"

"You've been taking photos of me all day! Why would you possibly need more?"

"Just giving the public what it wants and everyone loves Gemma Taylor!"

"What's not to love?" I joked, "But come on guys, I'm looking after my friend. I'll be leaving the party in an hour or so myself and then you can take all the pictures you want of me. OK? Just get back in your cars."

"An hour? You promise?"

"An hour or so, or so! Christ guys! I don't mind you documenting my entire life but please, let me have one!" I begged the men while Lilly rested her head on my shoulder.

"Thank you, Miss Taylor," one of them said and they all returned to their cars on the other side of the road, their cameras still trained on me, just in case I suddenly became more newsworthy. I brushed my fingers through Lilly's hair. It felt weird comforting someone taller than you. You normally think of someone you nurture as being smaller than you, but Lilly was three or four inches taller than me. If you couldn't nurture people smaller than you I wouldn't be able to look after many people. I was kinda short and way skinny.

I poured Lilly into the taxi and made sure that she would get safely home. "Thanks Gemma," Lilly said as I put the seatbelt on her, "I'll see you at school."

"Remember to act sober when you get home," I reminded her. Lilly had gotten in trouble for drinking too much at these parties so she had promised her parents that she wouldn't drink. She now had the unenviable task of trying to play sober when she was anything but. I dusted the dirt off my now slightly dirty white pants and went to see how the party was going. I was now down a few friends; Lilly had just left and so did Kev pretty much straight after his 30 seconds in 'paradise'.

"How's Lilly going?" asked a familiar voice.

"Not too bad. She'll live to see tomorrow. She won't enjoy it much though. Her head is going to fucking kill," I told Aaron, sitting beside him in the empty garage with undevoured party food and streamers as our only other companions. Everyone else were now in the garden, drinking and talking or inside, playing Guitar Hero. It was weird to walk into the garage to see him standing there alone, almost as if he was waiting to talk to me. I couldn't help but admire how cute he was looking, a few shirt buttons tantalizingly left open. If my hormones controlled me completely that shirt would be ripped open.

"Poor girl. She was really pounding them back. She was going one for one with me and I am a damn lot bigger than her." Aaron was even taller than me when I was male, not that I was a giant in anyone's book but now he positively towered over me. But I didn't find him threatening at all; instead he seemed comforting and protective.

"She was trying to impress you," I revealed to Aaron, "I'll let you in on some Secret Girl World stuff. Her one goal of the night was to get you interested in her. That's why she cut you off from the herd and was flirting with you."

"Shit! She was flirting with me? Fuck! I can never tell. I thought she was just being nice to me," Aaron seemed genuinely stunned to what I thought was tremendously obvious.

"Really, Aaron? She was rubbing herself against you on the dance floor. Are you that bad at reading people?"

"Yeah, I am. I was the fat kid for so long it's hard to think that any girl would want to talk to me, let alone want to go out with me. Plus I was mainly watching you when we were dancing."

"Me?" I asked. It was my turn to sound surprised.

"Sure, it's so weird to think you were ever Michael Taylor. You were dancing like all the other girls, meanwhile all I could do was my awkward man-dancing," I giggled at Aaron, yes giggled. "You just act so girly. I mean, I couldn't help but notice you are wearing a thong. That's pretty girly thing to do, Taylor."

"I'm wearing a fucking bra too, isn't that girly?" I retorted, "Look dude, I'm just doing what I need to do to fit in. I've been thrown into another world and all the rules have been tossed out. OK, most of the time I'm forced to do these extra 'girly' things but I let people force me so that the next time I have to do it, it wont be too hard. Sorry if that was a bit of a speech but I'm a little drunk and I'm a talkative drunk."

"That's OK, I'm drunk and when I'm drunk I love to listen," he laughed and so did I.

"I am a little scared about how much I'm changing though. Last week I was a crying wreck who couldn't get out of bed because of how much I hated it all and now I'm dancing suggestively next to a hot guy while I wear a low cut top and a thong."

Aaron clearly picked up on one part of my last sentence, "You think I'm hot?"

"I am happy to reveal to you that you don't need to worry anymore about your looks. You are officially hot. I tell you this as a novice girl. It's really amazing who I find attractive, you would be surprised who my body finds appealing. I'll look at a guy I would have never guessed was attractive and my body will say, 'Man, he's looking good.' Let's just say my body shouts it whenever you're around." It was both really weird and strangely comforting to be this candid with someone.

"Good to know. And as a side note, I find you alarmingly sexy."

"Yeah, it must be a little scary to find me attractive. But believe me, it doesn't make you gay anymore than me finding you attractive makes me gay."

"You look good as a blonde," he told me. Was he flirting with me? Great! As soon as I get good at reading exactly what a girl was thinking I lose the power to understand guys. Why couldn't life be easy? Or a least easier.

"Another thing I was too easily forced into. Next you know I'll be wearing a dress and doing the Deb."

"Oh," Aaron looked at me, "Are you doing the Deb?"

"No," I said, trying to explain, "I meant if I kept getting forced into doing things. Mum so desperately wants me to do the Deb I can see her holding back a comment about it every 5 minutes. It's killing her, she really wanted at least one of her kids to do the Deb and I guess I'm her last chance. I know it means the world to her but it's just a little too much, too soon."

Aaron sat forward, staring at me in confusion, "What do you mean too much? At this party alone I've seen you dance and handle the attention of a large group of people. The only thing different is you'll be wearing a dress, and I'm pretty sure it would be more comfortable than that piece of cotton you currently have wedged up your bum."

"I guess that's true. But I would need to find a partner and then…"

Aaron butted in, "I'm not doing it."

Wow, shot down before even offering, that must be some kind of new record. "Well, I didn't ask you…"

"No," he explained, "I meant I'm not doing it with anyone yet."

My mind let his words slowly roll around in my head. Did he mean…? "Are you saying you'd do your Deb with me, Gemma Taylor the ladyboy of Marrang?"

"I was just saying if your Mum was going to force you into it… and you said how much it means to her… maybe we should." This was an awkward thing for him to say, "Should we?"

"Umm…OK, let's do it." I extended my skinny little hand out, "Shake on it, Deb partner." He clasped my hand and we shook hands.

WHAT DID I JUST DO?!?

CHAPTER 21

"Is it true?" Becca asked me without needing to clarify what 'it' was. The news got around the party pretty fast — Aaron Lekakis and Gemma Taylor were going to do the Deb together. The news travelled like electricity, although without the need to follow wires, it travelled through air. I guess it was my fault. I did tell Alana.

"What? That's fucking amazing! Now we can be Deb twins!" I had no idea what Deb twins were, I hoped that it was a term she made up in her excitement. She hugged me so tight I thought maybe she heard me wrong. Maybe she thought I had said that I was shipping off to Iraq and I would probably never see her again? But that still wouldn't have explained 'Deb Twins'. I did make her promise to keep it quiet but promises by drunken girls aren't really strong, I discovered.

"Yes, Becca. My Mum is forcing me to do it so Aaron was nice enough to be my partner." Even deep in the fog of intoxication I could still question my sanity. Was I really going to do my Deb? Why? Was it because of Aaron and they way he looked at me? Was it really to make my Mum happy? Or was I so addicted to getting attention that I could smell the media frenzy a mile off and got excited? I hoped it was just for my Mum but I had my doubts, Aaron was too hot and the media frenzy too exciting for this to be a completely selfless act.

"You're going to look sooo cute together! Are you planning on wearing your hair up or down?" Unsurprisingly, my hair was the last thing on my mind.

"I have no idea," I mumbled as I realized I would be asked variations of that question everyday until the silly event. I was about to be thrown headlong into the deep end of girlyness, I just hope that I can tread water for as long as possible. And it wasn't just my hair that would be asked about, girls could talk for hours straight about every little detail about their Debutante dresses and make-up and shoes and jewellery. I wasn't sure I was ready for it. But it seemed impossible to back out now as I watched the news emanating across the entire town. I wouldn't have been surprised if somebody rang my Mum to tell her the good news, despite it being 3 in the morning.

Holly removed her mouth from Sobey's long enough to approach me. "Hi," she softly said. I was amazed that her jaw wasn't too sore to talk after making out with Sobey all night. "You look really pretty tonight."

I used to find all compliments about my looks repulsive but I enjoyed them now. If I was going to be a girl it was pleasing to be a pretty one. "Thanks."

"Alison told me something a little shocking a few minutes ago."

"Yeah," I confirmed, "I'm sick of being so selfish and self absorbed so I thought I would do something for my Mum."

"That's cool," she told me, perhaps not quite believing me, "Why Aaron?"

"Because he asked me. And he's been really nice to me since… you know."

Holly leaned closer to me. "Have you noticed he's smoking hot yet?" she asked.

A grin slid across my lips, "Maybe."

"Thought so," she told me, "You are such a girl."

"I don't know much about guys, but I know what I like," I replied. While the tone of our banter was friendly there was the distinct aroma of cattiness in the air. And it wasn't all from Holly, I was angry about her keeping her relationship with Trent Sobey a secret from me. I could not shake the feeling that she was looking down on me, probably because at least physically she was. She was 5'10 normally but she was wearing heels. I used to be 5'11 but I was now a modest 5'4 and flat out refused to wear heels, despite desperately wanting those lost inches back. I convinced myself I was only 17 and still growing and would regain a fair bit of height back. I was sure of it, mainly because Dr. Chisholm had once said fleetingly that I might not be finished growing.

"So, I'm not the only person with a secret," I said, trying to sound a little hurt and totally cool at the same time, not an easy thing to do I can assure you.

"Oh yeah? Who else?" she asked, seemingly unaware of what I was hinting at.

"You. You broke up with Jake to go out with Trent Sobey?"

"Not really," she said, shuffling her feet, "It just kinda worked out like that."

"Really?" I said, the contempt in my voice quite obvious, "Trent Sobey?"

"You don't know him," Holly said as she fussily fiddled with a strap on her top.

"Why didn't you tell me? That's why I'm annoyed," I told her.

Holly snapped right back, "I don't tell you everything. We're hardly the best of friends, Gemma." Was I destined to loose every friend Michael had made?

"I want to be, though. I thought we were going to tell each other stuff, so that we would be better friends. It was your idea."

"You want me to tell you 'stuff''? OK," Holly took in a deep breath, "I broke up with Jake because he cheated on me with some bush pig while he was at Uni and I'm going out with Trent because around me he doesn't act the same as he does around everyone else. We've always had a special connection." I was thoroughly put in my place.

I thought that being female would have made me closer to my female friends. But it seemed like the opposite was happening. My relationships with Dot and Holly were in their worse positions ever. Dot and I weren't on speaking terms and things with Holly had gotten frosty. But why? Sure, I was changing a little bit here and there but I would think that we would have more in common now, especially with Holly. I ran with her circle of friends now but yet we weren't great friends.

"They are probably just jealous of you," said Alana as we waited out the front for a taxi. The paparazzi surrounded me as I robotically posed for them. Stand up straight, shoulders back, a big smile showing teeth, I went through all the things Tyler had taught me. It was early in the morning and the flash of light bulbs were mixing with my light head in an unpleasant way.

"Jealous?" I huffed through a crack in the wall of photographers, "What do they have to be jealous of?"

"That fact you have your own media circus following you around is one thing I can think of," Alana said, "Plus you're really pretty and smart and nice and have made some awesome new friends, if I do say so myself. And you're going to be the main focus when you do your Deb!" What Alana had just done was let the cat out of the bag. And I was surrounded by dogs.

CLICK! "Gemma! You're doing your Deb ball?"
"Who with?" CLICK!
CLICK! "What do you plan on wearing?"
"What has your mother said?" CLICK!

"Nice one!" I called out to Alana as the wall swallowed me whole, engulfing me in a onslaught of clicks and questions. I wore a fake smile as genuine as I possibly could as I prayed for the taxi to come screeching down Macca's quiet semi-rural street. "I am not answering any questions at this time," I parroted over and over, a stark contrast to how informal I normally am with the press. I didn't want my sister to find out that I had agreed to do the Deb let alone the whole world. The taxi finally pulled up, surely dragged here by my will alone and Alana and I piled in. "Drive!" I commanded, as if I was a real celebrity and we disappeared into the night.

A brain left to its own devices and fuelled on fruit flavoured, alcoholic drinks can go a little weird. A dream snuck into my mind while I left it unattended. There I was, aglow in that dress, the dress that hung in the wardrobe dreading that no one would ever wear it. I looked amazing in it, the entire ballroom lit up entirely by the vision of me in this dress. No one could keep their eyes off me. I was so proud! But then I felt something on my neck. A lump! Was it cancer? No, it was worse, it was my Adam's Apple! I tried to scream but only a deep, manly groan came out! "Help me!" I begged the crowd in my old guttural voice. The crowd turned away in disgust, no one wanted to help the freak. I turned to Aaron for help. He hugged me close and told me everything would be alright. I felt secure and relaxed in his arms. A lump grew in my dress and poked Aaron. He looked down and slowly backed away from me. I looked down, I was sporting a giant 12 inch boner, jutting out of my dress!!

I flung myself out of that dream as quickly as possible, jolted upright and flung my hands to locations around my body to confirm my gender; boobs, pussy, no Adam's apple, I was still a girl. I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately wondered why. Why had a dream where I turned back into my old self shook me as bad as any nightmare? I rubbed my pussy through the cotton of my panties, like a beloved pet that I thought had ran away forever but had finally returned. I couldn't welcome it back too hard because I realised where I was — in Alana's room. In fact I was in Alana's bed, beside Alana. Girls, you see, will quite happily share a double bed together, no worries. So, there I sat, in Alana's bed, ever so gently rubbing my pussy, just to remind myself that I was 100% female. If you had told me a month ago that I would be in Alana Sturt's bed, with her, gently massaging female genitals, I highly doubt that I would have believed you but that was the truth.

The dream had really scared me but what scared me more was the fact I was scared by the dream. I wanted to be male, didn't I? All this 'girl power' and 'I'm loving being a woman' was just for show, right? As much as I was OK being a girl, there was the general impression that I would much rather be back, being regular, average, dull-as-dish-water, old me, right? It seemed like a question that should be answered easily, but in truth, it wasn't. My head hurt and if I was anything like the sleeping girl beside me in bed, my face would be covered in smudged make-up.

I wanted to want to be male again. It seemed like a given, 'boys rules, girls drool' was the maxim I had swore by at 8 years old and I should never change teams, even if my body did. By saying 'Yes' to Aaron I had turned my back on my old gender. Doing the Debutante Ball was the girliest thing I could ever do, not even all the girls at school are doing the Deb. But I had agreed to join the girliest of the girly and throw myself into a world of 'delustered satin' and 'sweetheart necklines', I didn't even know what they were but I knew that but the end of this ordeal, and it would be an ordeal, I would. I needed to assert that there was still a boy inside this body, that behind the perky bosoms and squeaky voice was a testosterone filled man (I use the term 'testosterone-filled' in a very loose way, because Dr. Chisholm had informed me that my testosterone level was actually quite low, even for a girl.).

I looked at my situation; there I was in a girl's room, in her bed, lying next to her. It seemed quite obvious had I had to do. I scooted across the bed towards Alana Sturt, the hottest girl in our Year level, and I wrapped my arm around her. I began gently spooning my new sleeping friend, our bodies softly touching. I quietly pushed my imaginary erection up against her. She rustled a bit but stayed asleep. The physical contact felt good, but admittedly a little unfulfilling. Alana was soft and smooth, that was annoying, if I wanted to touch soft and smooth all I needed to do was touch myself. There was no point lying to myself, I wanted rough and angular.

Deterred by my apparent heterosexuality I released Alana from my gentle grip and tottered into her bathroom. It was there I came face to face with rough and angular — and he was wearing just a towel. "Oh sorry!" I said as I had realised I wasn't alone.

"That's OK," Connor, Alana's older brother said as he concentrated on his image in the mirror as he shaved, "I'll just be a minute. You must be one of Alana's friends, yeah?"

I stared at him and his proud body and felt two things —
1) Alana's brother is hot!
and
2) I missed shaving.
It was like my feminine and masculine sides were looking at him in two ways — one saw him as a spunky older man with a great body and the other saw him as a lucky bastard who still had his penis. I let my mind wrestle with these conflicting thoughts as I answered his question. "Yeah, we went to a party last night so I crashed here."

Connor was a little older than my sister and went to University in Melbourne, Alana had told me that he would be home on Sunday, but I paid no mind to it. I knew Connor a little bit but older brothers never used to be such a big deal, until now. As Alana was gorgeous, Connor was handsome in a bright-eyed, take home to meet Mum kind of a way. However wholesome he looked, I was compelled to tug his towel to reveal what was underneath. Connor casually finished off his shaving, he wasn't ashamed of his body and nor should he be, as it was delicious. I was disappointed how little a fight my masculine side was putting up when looking at Connor. I'm quite sure my nipples were plumping up because of my thoughts about biting those majestic abs, not because I was reminiscing about shaving.

"Was it a good party?" he asked.

"Well, I seem to have a hangover and look an absolute mess, so yes, I guess."

"If you're a mess now, you must be the hottest woman on the planet when you are cleaned up!" he laughed, sounding both amused and ashamed of his pick-up attempt at the same time, "Sorry about that. I just meant that you are very good looking. I'm Connor, by the way," he said, extending his hand. He might have not recognised me but I knew who he was.

When you first start at Marrang High School they assign Peer Support Leaders to you. A Peer Support Leader is a Year 11 student, who trains for a few days to be able to look after the meek and scared Year 7's who join the school. They make sure you know your way around, teach you study techniques, play games with you and just generally try and make you feel confident about High School. You and another 6 or so Year 7 students meet once a week for 6 months with your Peer Support Leaders (generally there is two assigned to each group.). I was actually a Peer Support Leader up until the transformation where they cut me some slack and found someone to take my students. When I was in Year 7, my Peer Support Leaders were Kelly-Ann Papaworth and Connor Sturt. And to think I used to have a crush on Kelly-Ann Papaworth!

"Yeah, we've met before. I'm Gemma."

"Gemma, Gemma…" he mulled over my name, letting it roll around the room, "I'm pretty sure I would remember a gorgeous girl like you."

I very much appreciated the compliment (although it was a little worrying that a 21-year-old was cracking onto a 17-year-old) but I was going to have to burst this bubble. "Gemma Taylor…" I told him. The name didn't seem to jog anything in his head.

"Gemma Tay…" He knew. It was obvious that he now knew. "Oh of course, you used to be one of my little Peer Support kids and now look at you! You're all grown up! And by that I mean you're old… not that you're 'bigger'. Because I guess you might ever be shorter now that you are a… I am so sorry for flirting with you earlier, I didn't recognise you… blonde hair and all. You look so much taller on TV. I didn't mean to flirt… Please don't take that the wrong way. You were always a nice guy… I mean girl… I mean…" It was fun watching him scramble but I did have to intervene at some point otherwise he might have just kept going.

"Connor, it's OK. I'm not about to get all offended! It's OK, buddy, my situation is confusing and I know it!" I said trying to stop him from falling apart like an old car. He mumbled something about finishing shaving in his parents' bathroom and left me alone. As he passed me I felt so tempted to grab the towel, just so I could get a glimpse of his cute bum as he scampered away. My rampant heterosexuality scared me less and less as time went on. Guys were hot and I was beginning to enjoy that.

My hands, with agendas all of their own, wandered a little when I was in the shower. The thought of Connor and his body, Aaron and all the excitement all had prompted my fingers to explore. One hand discovered the mountain range of my breasts and gently began to climb to the peak of one. Once at the top, signified by a nipple standing tall and proud like a flagpole, it kneaded the soft flesh. I had inhabited this body for a while but I was still astonished at the softness of my boobs. They were like two jiggly pillows stuffed with goose down. So soft to the touch and so fun to touch.

My other hand had set up camp between my skinny thighs, a hot and damp area made more so by the warm water trickling down my body. My fingers wandered around the cavernous valley without entering it, tickling the soft velvety folds. These weren't the clumsy actions of a boy unsure of this weird body but a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. One finger, the long, thing middle one, decided to leave its friends and explore the hot, damp cave. Slowly, it pushed its way inside, carefully rubbing against the pulsating walls. I moaned in sheer delight, a woman deep in pleasure. Upon reaching the end of its tether, the finger returned to the surface only to repeat the process but this time faster.

My eyes rolled around in my head like two marbles on the deck of a boat. The pleasure was too much for them. The hand that had scaled the mighty breasts began working the nipples more furiously. I was about to double the effort with my other hand, when I saw it. Almost every girl I had talked to about self-pleasure had mentioned the immense benefits of a hand held showerhead and there was one staring me in the face. I fiddled with it and diverted the water from the main head until it was blasting out of the smaller, handheld one. I took it in my hand and slowly, ever so slowly brought it down between my legs. The pleasure was immediate and overwhelming. "Wow!" I moaned as I braced myself against the wall, "Oh my… Wow!"

The foreign visitor was doing the work of a thousand warm fingers — tickling and rubbing, caressing and massaging. I gently moved the head around trying to find the very best position. My skinny thighs closed in on it, bringing it deeper and closer to me. I moaned as a proud and excited woman. I would have to see about getting one of these installed in our shower, like tomorrow. I made excited little yelps, my squeaky little voice all the more squeaky. I thought about Aaron, lovingly peeling me out of my beautiful Debutante dress, both of us sharing a smile from ear to ear. "Your magnificent," he'd softly whisper.

"You are not so bad yourself," I'd joke, as my womanly body would be exposed to him. We'd embrace, his hands desperate to explore my body as my hands to his.

"You are the perfect woman!" he'd moan, as he would candidly rub my delicate thighs.

"I am! I am the perfect woman!" I gasped, out loud in the shower as I reached the pinnacle of my pleasure. I had never climaxed standing up before and the force was so powerful that my knees buckles and I almost fell to the floor. I panted deep heavy breaths and enjoyed what was left of the warmth. I felt the urge to have another round with the showerhead but decided against it, I didn't want to waste all the hot water in Alana's house servicing my sexual appetite. I hoped no one had heard me yelp that I was the perfect woman, which would be quite embarrassing and tough to explain.

After washing myself properly, I emerged somewhat triumphant from the shower. I tiptoed over to the vanity and rubbed a face-sized portion clean in the fogged up mirror. Gone was the smudged make-up that was all over my face and a cheery girl smiled back. I wiped clean a larger portion of the mirror and looked at me. I stood, naked, damp on Alana's bathroom floor and felt happier than I had in a long time. I'm not sure what had caused this jolly mood but I wasn't on the verge of crying, unlike most of the time lately. I sponged myself dry with a towel, practically dancing as I did. Foolishly I had forgot to bring some extra clothes with me to the bathroom so I had to wear only what I brought down with me — the white thong and Alana's top that I wore last night. I wriggled into my thong, pulling it on my hips. I didn't seem to mind it in my butt today, although last night it drove me mad. In fact, according to my reflection it made my bum look pretty good, which I was happy with. I pulled on the top and looked in the mirror, it was far too dressy for lounging around in the house with but it would do until I got back to my overnight bag in Alana's room.

My Mum was going to pick me up at 11am because she said I had too much homework to do and I couldn't spend the whole weekend away from school work. What she knew about my homework load, I'll never know. Truth was teachers were too sensitive to my needs and often held back on giving me any homework at all. The rest could be done 'in my own' time. I had the benefits of being sick without feeling ill at all. I felt great! Without waking Alana, I pulled on some shorts, a bra and buttoned up a little shirt for me to wear.

"Honk!" was the sound to alert me that Mum had arrived.

"Hey," I whispered as I tried to wake Alana gently.

"Mmmph," was the all to familiar response.

"I've got to go now, my Mum's waiting downstairs. Thanks for a great weekend!"

I roused her enough for her to put a sentence together. "Bye Gemma." It wasn't much of a sentence.

I trotted down the stairs with my bag in tow to face the music. I hadn't told Mum about dyeing my hair or piercing my ears or even that I went to a party last night. I wondered what she would think of it all. It was impossible to gauge whether my Mum would be angry or not about things. Sometimes she would treat me like an 8-year-old and other time she expected me to be an adult. I was neither. I was a teenage girl with the mind of a teenage boy, a tricky thing to parent indeed.

Gingerly, with one foot in front the other I approached the car. I could see Mum's reaction with each step I took closer. She didn't seem to be freaking out at all, in fact she seemed only a little surprised. "Gemma Mae Taylor!" she said as I opened the door, "What have you done to yourself?"

"Like it?" I meekly squeaked as I tentatively climbed into my seat. The vinyl of the car seats had heated underneath the hot summer sun all morning and burned my soft thighs as I sat down. It was such a common occurrence that I didn't even wince.

"Let me have a closer look," she said and so I looked at her dead on, "Who did this to you?" I still wasn't sure whether she liked or not. I turned my head and my recently dyed follicles danced for her. Surely, she wouldn't have a problem with it; her hair was dye a colour only a few shades different to mine anyway. Like mother, like daughter.

"Alana and Lilly. They also did this," I announced as I pulled back a curtain of blondeness to reveal my pierced ears.

"Fuck me, Gem! You didn't let them do that to you with a pin did you?"

"It's OK, I've been rubbing alcohol on it so that it doesn't get infected. It didn't hurt much, I promise," I wasn't liking how quiet Mum was being, "Mum… say something. Do you like it?"

"Gemma, you know I'll always think you're beautiful. It's just that Nicole really wanted to do something like this with you and now you've gone and done it without her." I had never thought of that. Nicole would be pissed that she didn't get the honours of making me over, since she had practically begged me to do it from day one.

"Shit, I didn't think of that. I'll make it up to her," I told Mum. The car coughed a few times and spluttered into life. I still had the big news of the Deb to bring up with Mum and I thought about withholding from her until she was really mad at me about something and then I could divert her with the happy news. But with the speed that news was travelling from the party I wouldn't have the luxury of keeping it from her until a rainy day. I didn't want to do it in the car though, a surprise like that deserved to be a face-to-face moment.

"So what did you get up to this weekend? Aside from mutilating your body in the name of fashion, that is," Mum asked me. It was one of those parents' questions that they ask and they want an answer but they don't really expect the truth. They expect an 'Oh… nothing much,' and not a detailed list of things they probably don't want their child doing anyway.

"Oh…nothing much," I said.

"Didn't go to the beach?" Mum asked as she smoked out of the window of the car.

"No," I said, quizzically.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"So, you didn't go to the beach and pose for photos with tourists AND sign autographs?"

I looked at her with a look of slight astonishment, "How did you know that?"

"Mother's intuition," she proudly proclaimed.

"No, Mum, really. Where?"

"Pictures of it were in the paper this morning." It was going to be tricky to hide anything from anyone if everything I do was a major news story.

I gradually came to realise something and spoke slowly as the pieces of the puzzle came together, "So, you already knew about me dyeing my hair then?"

"Yes, supposedly you going blonde is worth page 7 in the Herald Sun," Mum sighed as if although I was special I wasn't deserved of all this attention. I didn't let on that I thought it should have been at least page 4. Come on, I'm now a blonde, that's big news! The car made assorted groans as we pulled into the driveway.

"So, that's all you did this weekend?" asked my mother as she stamped out her cigarette on the driveway. It seemed she was giving me another chance to reveal any secrets I may be harbouring but my Deb announcement wasn't a driveway moment, it was an 'Are you sitting down?' thing.

"You are just going to have to read the paper to find out," I teased her, seriously hoping that the newspapers hadn't yet had time to print what they had found out outside of Macca's party last night.

Sometimes something very small is all it takes. I opened the door and saw an old tin box that used to have old toffee lollies in them, though as long I had been alive it never contained lollies. Upon seeing that tiny box sitting on the kitchen table I knew that the jig was up.

They knew.

I had seen that old toffee box a lot a few years ago.

When Mum and Nicole made the dress. Mum kept pins in it.

I hadn't seen it since.

And there it was.

They knew.

To say seeing Nicole holding the Debutante dress and shouting, 'Surprise!" wasn't still frightening would have been wrong.

They knew.

********

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I got to this story has been absolutely amazing. Thank you so much.

Kate Draffen (Chapters 22 + 23)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

Gemma puts on that dress and gets a job offer in these chapters.

Hi there, the author here. Thank you so so much for sticking with this story. As always comments, questions and critisms are very welcome. Either post a comment or email me at [email protected]. Just to clear up, I was unaware how rare Gemma was as a name in the US. It is a common name here in Australia and is pronounced 'Jem-muh'.

CHAPTER 22

Fucking journalists! That's how they knew. Some journos called my Mum first thing in the morning to get her reaction on me doing my Deb, which they overheard about at the party. Mum's reaction was obviously along the lines of, "First I bloody heard of it!" or "Really?!? That's fantastic news!" All I knew was that this was an ambush. I was surrounded. Nicole was closing-in in front of me and Mum was blocking off the only escape. "I'm so happy, Gem!" Mum said, "You're going to make me so proud up there."

"Huh?" I queried, my head spinning.

"It's OK, a journalist called me on my mobile this morning to ask for some comments about you deciding to do the Deb. Let's just say it was a wonderful surprise!" Mum said as she edged closer to me. I checked the windows — they were all closed, the only way to escape was to knock down one of them. But Mum taught from an early age that you never knock over a family member to create an escape route. So because of her good if slightly niche parenting, I was trapped.

"You're going to look so fucking hot!" Nicole gushed as she clutched the dress. It all seemed very real now. Before it was like a fairytale, a gown, a ball, a handsome prince. But now Nicole was holding the dress; a dress that needed to be fitted and refitted and accessorised with. This wasn't going to be just one magical night, it was going to be a long arduous journey with rehearsals and fittings and girly chitchat and in the end, the night may not even be that magical. When I agreed to do it, I totally forgot that it was a massive undertaking. When I was Michael it was easy, learn the dances, get measured for my suit, pick up my suit and go to the ball. Now, things were trickier.

"C'mon love, try it on!" Mum said, not so gently ushering me towards the most feminine garment I had ever seen. I would have never thought that a piece of clothing could look so threatening but the way it was slowly coming towards me, it was terrifying. The white, shimmering gown was gliding towards like a headless spectre.

"I haven't even told you if the rumour is even true or not," I said, trying to reign in the insanity.

Nicole continued to advance on me, showing no signs of yielding, "I don't care whether it is or not, you're getting into this dress, you sook!" My escape options were sliding away from me fast. I knew this time would have to come eventually but I didn't want or expect it as soon as I entered the front door.

"There's no possible way out of this, is there?" I asked, sounding resigned.

"Not unless you turn back into a guy," joked Nicole as she handed me my dress.

"Believe me, I'm trying."

But through not fault of my own I couldn't conjure up any gender changing nanobots on command. I was still very much a girl, a girl who was being forced to put on a dress. "I'm going to need some help," I said.

"Don't be such a wuss, just strip off and climb in, we'll do up the zip for you!" Nicole was not able to wipe the stupid smile off her face.

"Strip off? Here?" I asked, feeling shy all of a sudden.

"It's not like you have anything we don't have… anymore!" I was starting to get annoyed by Nicole relentless teasing and did what all little sisters would do if they found themselves in my situation: complain to their Mummies.

"Mum!"

"Niccy, leave your sister alone!" Mum scolded her, as if we had been fighting sisters all our lives. "And Gem, quit your whinging and put on the bloody dress already!" I had been told. I gently placed the dress on the kitchen counter. Turning my back to my family, I removed my top and wriggled out of my shorts. With my back to them at least I wouldn't have to deal with Nicole's endless boob chatter.

It seems God never closes a Boob door without opening a Bum window. "Wooo! Cute bum!" laughed Nicole. I had forgotten I was still wearing that tiny little white thong which was so obviously prime teasing material for Nicole. I had been teased a lot by Nicole growing up, being the younger sibling to someone as extroverted as Nciole was bound to be teased a fair bit. The best way to deal with it was to not react at all, or even better act as if the 'teasing' is actually a compliment.

"Thanks," I smiled, pushing out my curvy, small butt a little, trying not to show any signs of weakness, "It is looking pretty good." I looked at the glistening white pile of material in front of me. This was weird situation: it was Michael's worst nightmare and yet the culmination of a lot of things Gemma has been working toward. I wont lie, a part of me was very excited to put this on, a part of me that was slowing getting more dominant everyday but still there was enough 'Michael' in me to realise that this was a big step. This wasn't just the next step up from wearing the girls' school uniform; this was tantamount to turning in my testicles forever. But considering I had already involuntarily did that, I might as well put on the damn dress.

I tentatively placed my hands on the satiny material. I just couldn't fathom wearing such a feminine garment but if I wanted to do the Deb I would have to wear a Deb dress. My dainty fingers gently gripped the material. "No, you have to put on the petticoat first, hon," Mum said, startling me out of my trance.

Petticoat? That sounded worse than a Debutante dress!

"What?" I asked.

"Here," Mum thrust a huge pile of ruffles at me, "It gives the skirt part its shape."

I fiddled helplessly with the indescribable mess that I was now supposed to wear. Frustrated, I asked, "How am I supposed to get this stupid thing on?"

"Give it here!" Mum said, equally as frustrated. She grabbed it, tussled with it madly until it looked more like a real piece of clothing and not just a heap of fluffy rags. "Now you just step into it and pull it up."

"OK," I said hesitantly as I complied with her orders. The petticoat sat snugly at the top of my hips. "Like this?" I asked and Mum gave me the thumbs up. "Now for the dress," I sighed. Nicole and Mum were weirdly silent. Normally they were both unable to shut up, so it seemed incredible that they were both in a room at the same time and neither of them were saying a thing. I went to step into it and pull it up just like the petticoat I was wearing, until I realised the petticoat was too poofy and I would have to pull it over my head. 'Petticoat I was wearing' was not something I thought I would ever say, even since I was ravaged by P.E.

I think that Mum and Nicole were too gripped with sentimentality, that the idea of helping me never even entered their heads. And so, I floundered about, inelegantly trying to pull the dress on. I felt trapped in an unending tunnel of glistening tulle and satin, the more I pulled the more there was to the dress. I wondered if it was possible that this dress was made for someone 24 feet tall. That would certainly explain why there didn't seem to be an end in sight. Finally, after climbing up the dress for what seemed like eons, I reached proof that I was getting somewhere, I hit a snag. My boobs had hit the part where the skirt bit ends and the fitted bodice bit begins. Since the dress was unzipped the snag wasn't too bad, it didn't take more than a simple tug to allow the dress to continue along its path. My head soon popped out into the world once more and I took a deep breath.

The dress, that was the product of many loving hours of work by my sister and mother, was now on. Wordlessly, Nicole zipped me up at the back and stood back. To be honest it wasn't to most comfortable thing I ever wore, in fact it was probably one of the least comfortable things. The least comfortable and easily the girliest. The only way it could be any girlier would be if it was bright pink. Despite all this, I was so happy that I finally had it on.

I was happy because my Mum was so happy.

Mum was crying with happiness.

I had seen my Mum cry only a few times and never in happiness. It's weird, the stories around the few times that I saw my Mum cry aren't huge travesty stories, more of stories of mild annoyances. If my Mum did cry after huge travesties, she didn't do it in front of me. The first time I remember her tearing up was one day when Nicole was just 7 and I was around 4, maybe 5. Nicole had decided she didn't like the length of her hair and decided to cut it herself. And once Nicole gets something in her head, she cannot rest until it is done. So, she crept into the bathroom and 'fixed' her hair with some craft scissors. When Mum came across Nicole and her new haircut; she didn't scream or yell as she usually did, she just sat on the couch and cried. I remember even as a kid thinking that was strange. The only other time was once when she went away for the weekend and came home to find the house a mess, no messier than usual, just messy. Usually she would yell but that time she cried. And the last and final time I saw her cry was watching an episode of 'Touched By An Angel' one Sunday afternoon last year. She didn't even particularly like that show.

This was the fourth time I had seen her cry and finally it was in happiness. "Oh Mum," I said, "Don't cry."

She blinked, hard, trying to banish all the tears from her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something but all that came out was the sound of her choking back more tears. She tried again, "Thank you," was all she could say.

It's a very weird feeling to feel both utterly proud and totally humiliated at the sane time but it was right then and there that I felt it, standing there in a pretty, white dress in front of my tearful Mum. With the complete absence of a mirror all I could do to see what Mum saw was crane my neck down. It didn't give me much of a view, aside from the plunging cleavage that the dress created. "You look really good, Gem," my sister told me with a smile.

"Thanks," I said, taking a few steps to find a mirror. The billowy petticoat and full skirt made it feel like I was wading through long grass but I finally made it to the bathroom. "Geez!" I said when I saw my reflection. I looked like a princess, I never thought I ever would but a truly did. A princess who was wearing a bra with a strapless dress, but a princess just the same. I guess I never truly took notice of the dress during the many hours that Nicole and Mum spent putting it all together. It wasn't a dress then, it was an annoyance, an excuse to kick me out of the lounge room for 5 hours on the weekend.

I was actually proud of my reflection. In this dress I didn't look like a little sexpot, like most of my clothes but I looked radiant. For a split second, I was glad I was a girl getting to wear a gorgeous dress and not some boy who had to wear whatever suit the school picked out. A smile took hold, it was a massive chore getting me into the dress and it might end up a chore getting me out of it. "It looks really good on you. Obviously you're skinnier than me, so we are going to have to take it in a bit and you have bigger boobs than I did when I was 16 so we're going let it out a little bit. But fix that, add the gloves and shoes and jewellery and the make-up and you'll be looking grouse!"

I thought looked 'majestic' and 'stunning', 'grouse' was not a word that came to mind but I was glad that Nicole was happy for me to wear her dress. I walked back to the kitchen to where Mum was waiting. I suddenly wished my gait was more elegant, more feminine. I didn't like my walk in this dress, the fact I wasn't breath-takingly elegant made me feel as if I was doing a disservice to it. In my last few steps towards Mum I tried to be as graceful as humanly possible but failed. Something in my mind told me that I would have to work hard so that I could move as beautifully as I looked by the time the Debutante Ball came around.

"So, you're not lying to me? You're really going to do this?" Mum asked with an earnest look. There was no way I could say no to her. It was impossible.

"Yep, Mum. I guess you're going to have your Deb Ball after all!" She hugged me tighter than she had ever hugged me, I guess she was proud of me.

And so there I was, standing on the coffee table in the TV room, pins from the old toffee tin stuck in various places on the bodice of the dress. Standing so high on the table in a pretty, white dress I felt like the little bride on top of a wedding cake. I told that to Mum, but I guess she was too deep in 'sewing mode' to find it funny. The dress, which at the start of the day felt so special to wear, now itched and felt exceeding hot on this blustery, hot summer's day. The novelty of being a princess was fading, fast.

"Does my dress have to be so… big?" I asked the little elfin dressmaker who ran around me, jabbing pins into me whenever the mood took hold.

"That's what I'm just fixing, Gemma," Mum told me.

"No, I know you're fixing the….," I struggled to remember the term, "bodice, right? It's just that the skirt bit is just so big, I feel like the toilet roll holder at Nanna's house." In the toilet at my Nan's house was a doll, with a huge knitted dress. It was huge because its main function was to cover spare rolls of toilet paper, Nan had a lot of strangely decorative things like that around her house. I felt I was also hiding a massive spare roll of toilet paper underneath my gown.

"It's just how it's supposed to look, love. You could lose the petticoat," I liked the sound of that, "But that would mean you would need to wear taller high heels." High heels? It wasn't bad enough that I was wearing the most feminine thing on the planet but underneath I would have to wear high heels!?! This was getting ridiculous.

"How high?"

"Huh? Oh, well, you're like an inch taller than Nicole and she was supposed to wear 3 inch heels, I'm sure you could get away with two inches." Get away with two inches? She said it as if she was doing me a favour!
"But if you don't wear the petticoat and just have the multi-layered tulle," Mum warbled on as if any of this made sense to me, I just wanted to know the height, "you would probably have to wear like a 4 inch heel." Well, there goes my dream of losing the petticoat!

My phone began to ring. "Nicole!" I hollered, "Can you get my phone? It's in my jean shorts in the kitchen!"

"In a second!" she hollered back in response, from somewhere in the house.

"Quickly!" I demanded, "I'm stuck in the dress and can't move! Nicole! It's going to stop ringing! God!" I swung my petulant fists up and down. By the time the phone was brought to me, it had stopped singing its merry tune. "Thanks," I said bitterly to my sister.

"Oh, just get along, you two! Anyone would think you've been a girl all your life, the way you fight with your big sister," Mum said as she wrestled with the tape measure.

"But she made me miss my call!" I complained in my high and (I'll admit it) somewhat annoying voice, "And it's from… Tyler. Nicole! He's my publicist! I really should have taken that call!"

"Just call you precious little publicist back, Gem-muh!" she told me, frustrated.

"Enough!" Mum demanded like some Greek God atop Mt. Olympus, "I am sick and tired of you two fighting like a pair of feral bush pigs! Nicole, go somewhere!"

"Where?"

"I don't care, just out of my hair."

"I would watch that movie I rented but you're hogging up the TV room." Now Nicole knew how I felt like, two years ago when the shoe was on the other foot.

"Go to Ben's."

"He's at footy practice."

"Well, surprise him there!" Mum said, as Nicole grumbled all the way out the door.

Finally they had stopped fighting and I could use my phone without fear of a domestic disturbance happening in the background. It wasn't that my family embarrassed me but I did like to try and have people forget that they exist if at all possible.

"You going to call Tyler now?" Mum asked.

"Yep."

"Say 'hi' from me," Mum told me, "He's just so damn cute, don't you think?" Groan! Mum was asking me about boys again. And the truth was I hadn't seen Tyler since I had gotten my sexuality back and while his gorgeous face had popped into my mind now and again during my masturbatory sessions, it was never for very long.

"Gross, Mum! He's my publicist! And he's like, 24!" I hit dial and tried my best to ignore Mum.

Tyler answered his phone with a, "Gemma, great to hear from you! Long time, no talk"

"Hi Tyler," I responded, sounding every bit like the shy schoolgirl I had become.

"How are you doing? Is everything going well?"

"Can't complain. Wish the paps would stop following me around but that's about all."

"I'm doing my best to keep them at bay but some people just don't play by the rules. But good to hear that life is going well. See, I told you life wouldn't change much just because you're a girl." Tyler was unable to see that I was standing on a coffee table wearing a dress.

"You were right," I lied.

"So, what's next for Gemma Taylor?"

I told him, "You tell me."

"The offers have been pouring in, Gemma. I should have called you earlier but Dr. Fischer told me to give you some time to adjust." Dr. Fischer? Who was Dr. Fischer? Oh, Annette! "But I saw you in the paper today in your party clothes and thought that she's ready to party she's ready for some of these offers."

"Hit me, Tyler." I liked playing the role of the big time celebrity with Tyler.

"Well, you've probably read that Dancing with the Stars are desperate to get you and that is true. They're offering you just under a million for that, which is nothing to sneeze at. But the problem with that is that it's going to be during your mid-year exams and I know how important your schooling is to you."

That and I am fairly certain I'm too big a celebrity to go on that tacky program! Tyler had sent me regular e-mails just dropping hints about various offers but this was the first time we had spoken to each other for a while.

"What else do you have?"

He continued, "Well since you have emerged looking so beautiful anyone who is anyone wants to photograph you, kiddo. You got that e-mail I sent, yeah? Vogue, Elle, New Weekly, Woman's Day even FHM want to be the first with an exclusive photo shoot." I wandered if I would ever be attention-deprived enough to do a Lad's mag like FHM.

"I don't really know if I'm a model, Tyler."

"Here's one I haven't told you about but I think it's a sweet fit. You've heard of Dolly, yes?"

Dolly Magazine is a magazine for girls around 13-16. Probably every girl I know, except Dot of course, has bought at least one issue. It's a part of growing up. It's about fashions and boys and self-esteem and girl power and things like that. As adolescent boys, Glen and I would laugh at the reader's poetry they would print, the ramblings of an angst-ridden teenage girl was always so melodramatic. I had flick through a couple of old issues at Alana's house to channel my inner girl, Alana had moved onto Cosmo but she told me there is no better instruction manual on how to be a teenage girl than Dolly.

So yes, I had heard of Dolly.

"Well, they want you to do a monthly column in their magazine, maybe answer reader's questions and the like. You know, you could make a difference in a lot of girls' lives."

Something about that offer really spoke to me. The idea of using my fame to help other people had never come into my mind before. I'm not sure how helpful my advice to girls would be but I'm sure my opinions would be of some value. I always considered myself a good writer, my marks for English were always higher than my Math and Science ones.

"That sounds really good, Tyler. I like the sound of that."

"Thought you might. I'll give the editor a call back and pass on your information, kiddo." I kinda liked it when he called me 'kiddo' although not many other people could get away with it.

"The editor said she would be interested in making you the cover story if you joined. Would you do a cover shoot?"

"I'm not a model, Tyler but I could give it my best shot. Where would the shoot be?"

"Dunno, probably here in Sydney."

"I'd love to come go Sydney, I've never been. If I came up for the shoot would you show me around?"

"Of course, kiddo. Pick any weekend you want and I can easily get you invited to all the hottest parties or movie premiers or something cool like that."

I was getting excited. "Really? Cool. Do you think I could meet Kate.., I mean John Draffen? I mean, he lives up there, right?"

"I'm sure if anyone could organize a meeting, Dr. Chisholm could." What just seemed like a fun weekend away just became more important.

"Because it would be really great just to meet Mr. Draffen. I'm feeling so good about myself lately and I think meeting him would help the last puzzle piece fall into place, you know? Make me feel real."

"I'm sure he is dying to meet you too."

"Tyler, I've got one more question for you?"

"Whatever you want, kiddo."

I held my breath for a second, letting the courage pool in the roof of my mouth. I spoke quickly, just slow enough that he could understand, "I'm doing my Deb and I was wondering if you would like to come and sit at my table? It's in a few weeks time."

"You're doing your Debutante Ball? Wow, you grew up fast! You know what? I'd love to come. Talk to you later, OK?"

"OK."

"Bye."

"Bye."

And just like that I went from being a hotshot celebrity talking to her people to a girl standing on a coffee table in a dress with pins sticking into me. "You didn't say 'Hi' from me," complained Mum.

"You're too old for him, Mum!"

"Well, you're too young!" Mum replied back.

"I'm not lusting after him, like some people. Can I take this damn thing off already?"

And so very gently I took off my Deb dress. My Deb dress! And handed to Mum so that she could begin slaving over it. While dressing like a normal person wasn't as exciting it was a whole lot more comfortable.

"So, what did Tyler want?" Mum asked as I rejoined her in the TV room.

"He's got me a job writing for Dolly Magazine that I'm really interested in," I said, looking up at Mum. I guess I felt short because I had been standing on the coffee table for so long. I had been taller than her for a few years and it seemed so weird to come crashing down below her again. Because of it, I felt younger and she looked more commanding. At least I was still taller than Nicole, not by much but still it was something.

"My baby is going to be a writer? That's great. You'd be really good at that! As long as it doesn't interfere with your school work, I'm fine with it." Along with being the family's last chance at being involved with a Debutante Ball, I was also our last chance at graduating High School — Mum had left because she was pregnant and Nicole had left to become a hairdresser, so it was all up to me.

I looked around our modest surroundings, Mum had worked very long and very hard for every single thing we owned. You could almost see the sweat and tears in everything from our old fridge to the peeling paint. Everything in this house Mum had worked so hard for, except the big screen TV, we got that because I talked to a camera for an hour. I could see why Mum wanted me to finish High School, even though I was currently worth my puny weight in gold.

Two ice cubes 'plinked' into my glass of Pineapple juice. "Don't worry, Mum," I promised between mouthfuls of juice, "School is my first priority."

CHAPTER 23

"Mum, can I take 3 days off school?" I asked in my best 'I'll whinge all day if you don't let me' voice. I hoped that she forgot the promise I made to her just last week.

"What? … Why? When?" Mum was all questions, although they were very short questions.

"It's for Dolly magazine. They really loved my test column that I e-mailed them and they want to revolve their whole next issue around me. Cover shoot, photo spread, feature story and my column! They might as well rename the mag: Gemma." Sure, I was a little big-headed but you try and keep your ego in check when a magazine thinks you’re the best thing since glossy paper.

"That's really nice, Gem, but 3 days is a lot."

"Normally, I'd agree with you but this time of the year no one is doing anything. All my classes are just 'continue with your work' at the moment. And it's not until next week and half of the year level will be away doing work experience so the teachers will be even less likely do be doing anything important," I could have kept rambling with good reasons but I felt it was enough.

"Why do you need 3 days?" Mum asked as she prepared tonight's dinner. She was putting out 4 plates, so I assumed Nicole would be bringing home Ben soon.

"I'll fly up to Sydney on Wednesday, get settled and see the sights," I had never been to Sydney before, "Thursday is spent all day doing the photo shoot. Friday during the day, I thought I might go and see John Draffen and Friday night they are holding a party in my honour and then I'll fly home Saturday."

"Why don't you fly up Wednesday night after school and see the sights on Saturday and fly home on Sunday? That way you don't miss out on school on Wednesday." It seemed that Mum had already yielded to my request and was seeking for a little bit of a compromise to make herself feel a little better. However, I wasn't ready to compromise.

"But I've got another engagement down here Saturday night," I said trying to make my life sound as important as possible.

"Engagement?" Mum saw right through it, "What engagement?"

"Becca's 17th birthday party," I revealed, there was a look on my face that showed that I knew I had lost all power in the negotiations.

Mum opened the oven and pulled out some oven-ready lasagne, it was Monday after all and why break with tradition. "Well, I think Becca will understand if you miss her party. So, I, you mother, am approving that you can miss Thursday and Friday next week but not Wednesday, OK?"

"OK," I said defeated.

"How are you going to get to the airport? I work all Wednesday," Mum asked as she quickly rinsed a dirty knife to cut our delicious feast into portions. The nearest airport was just out of Geelong about 2 hours drive, and it was only where the budget airlines fly out from. The nice Airport was in Melbourne, a good 3 and a half hour drive away.

"They said they would fly me Qantas but that would only fly out from Melbourne Airport, yeah?" Mum nodded, "I'll guess I'll have to take the late train to Melbourne, but that wont get me there until 7pm and then I'll have to take the bus to the airport which wont get there until 8pm, which means I wont be able to take a flight until 9pm, which means I wont get to Sydney Airport until 10pm and I wont get to Sydney until 11pm and my photo shoot starts first thing in the morning!" I was truly in full whinge mood.

"Well, then you should get them to book you into flight that leaves from Geelong," Mum said, being perfectly reasonable. But I didn't want to listen to reasonable.

"My first flight on a plane and you want me to fly budget?" I asked, truly mortified. I couldn't believe she would want her celebrity fruit of her loins to fly budget, "If you let me take Wednesday off I could get to Melbourne at a reasonable hour."

The security door (that was never ever locked) swung open and Nicole entered, like a sheriff walking into a saloon, "What's my little sister complaining about now?"

"She doesn't want to fly a budget airline but she wants enough beauty rest for her silly magazine photo shoot!" Mum said, exacerbated.

"Photo shoot? Who for? Where?" Nicole too suffered from asking a lot of very short questions.

"Dolly magazine. In Sydney. For the cover." I smiled, clearly happy that no one had asked her to grace the pages of a magazine.

"Wow!" Nicole clearly didn't notice or care that I was teasing her, "That's fan-fucking-tastic! You're going to be on the cover of Dolly? That's like my 15 year old dream come true!" Nicole was much more excited about it than Mum obviously was. Ben, who had come in behind Nicole, remained quiet.

"Hey Nicole," I said, trying to play to my sister, "You have Wednesdays off. Could you drive me to the airport?"

"Sure! Which one?"

"That's up to Mum," I said, practically begging.

"What classes do you have after lunch?" Mum asked. Yes! I was making progress.

"Just a double period of P.E," I lied, it was really a double of Maths, but what she didn't know, wouldn't hurt her.

"I guess you could leave at lunch and go to Melbourne," Mum relented, like I always knew she would. I smiled and bit my lip to keep from a rather public celebration.

"Thank you," I demurely said.

We ate dinner together as a family. Ben was quieter than usual, I think he missed me being male and evening out the numbers. As it currently stood he was the only male amongst three women. He almost drowned in the sea of dyed blonde hair and big boobs that made up the Taylor family. As a former male I tired to reach out to him. "How did you go in the footy on the weekend?" I asked him. Truth was, even when the space between my thighs was home to a penis I wasn't interested in footy, least of all the amateur league Ben played for.

"Yeah, alright," was his simple response as he shovelled some carrots into his mouth.

Well, I tried.

"So are you going to meet up with Draffen when you go up to Sydney?" Nicole asked me with a mouthful of food.

I chewed and swallowed before answering. "I hope so, Dr. Chisholm said that John had shown some interest in meeting me."

"That'd be so exciting for you. It would be like meeting your mirror image." It appeared that Nicole refused to say anything unless there was a risk of spitting large chunks of some food at me.

Mum glanced up at the clock situated behind me. "You better be running along if you don't want to be late," she told me.

"Oh yeah!" Nicole seemed to be getting more excited and more likely to spit food at me as each second passed, "It's your big night tonight! Hey? Your first practice session!"

"Not my first. I had some sessions before I changed," I told her as I scraped the left over food off my plate and into the bin, ignoring the compost bag on the other side of the kitchen because I am inherently lazy.

"But this is your first Deb practise as a girl! Dancing with Aaron! That's pretty big!" Nicole seemed much more excited than I was. Maybe she should see if she could do it in place of me.

I walked the short distance to the school hall where practices were held. The last time I walked to Deb practice I was worried about how I was going to tell my friends that I had SGR and now I had other things problems on my mind — mainly, most of the friends who said they would support me through my difficult time weren't talking to me anymore. While things were fine with Mads and Kev, things were considerably worse with everyone else. Holly was far too busy getting busy with my archenemy to care about me, Dot and I would only exchange the briefest of greetings in the morning and Glen was forced to side with Dot. Sure, I had new great friends but I couldn't shake the feeling that I could do something to make this all better.

It had been just over a week since Dot and I had our 'I miss the old Michael' fight at BTB. I think the main reason we hadn't made up was because we were both too proud to admit that we missed each other. It was easy for me to make her think I didn't need her, I had Alana and Lilly to chat, giggle and act like a major girl around. Dot had it a bit harder, she would have to pretend that she was happy doing things by herself or when Glen was around, with Glen. Although she always acted totally misanthropic, I knew she was only happy when she had someone to act all misanthropic around.

At school we wouldn't say much too each other. It wasn't as if our friendship was destroyed, just deflated. One of us would have to do some patchwork soon or have our friendship run completely out of air. But since I had plenty of friends and a whole new life opening up for me, I didn't feel the need to run out and get a puncture repair kit, although if Dot went and got one, I would certainly help her restore our friendship to its former, inflated glory.

Each step I made brought me a little closer to school and to Deb practice. I never thought I would be coming back to do my Deb but the perfect storm of alcohol, a cute guy and a demanding Mum exploded in my face so I found myself right in the middle of it. I was kinda looking forward to it actually, I had enjoyed rehearsal when I was male and I was a good dancer so there was no reason not to enjoy it. At first I thought Lilly would be mad when I snagged Aaron as my partner. I mean, she was after him and now I would spend a few hours each week holding my body close to his. But I guess I don't know the rules of Girl World as much as I thought I did. Lilly was so excited when she found out, she said she would be able to chat him up at rehearsals and flirt with him because she didn't have many classes with him. Little did she know, but I too had Aaron set in my eyes, not that I was ready to start dating any time in the near future but I wanted him ready if I ever did.

For the most part Deb partners were rarely romantic couples. Oh, there were a few long time couples that were doing their Debuts together but there wasn't an overtly romantic or sexual vibe to the whole thing. OK, some guys secretly might do it for a chance to caress a girl for a few hours a week (that's why I did it with Holly) but the girls were more interested in finding a guy who would match their dress. Their partners were just another accessory, along the same lines as shoes and jewellery.

There were no photographers around tonight on my walk to school. In their defence it was a Monday night and I had been Gemma for over three weeks. And the more I became Gemma and the less I became Michael and the less newsworthy I became. A boy trapped inside a girl's body is exciting, a girl trapped inside a girl's body isn't going to sell many papers. In saying that, they did show up out front of my house on the weekend though and caught me going to the beach with Alana and Lilly. Pictures of three pretty teenage girls in their skimpy bathers one of who is a major news story, were not buried in the back of the Sunday newspapers, let me tell you that. We made page 3 in both The Australian and the Herald Sun.

And the news of me doing my Deb was big. A lot of people wrote letters into the editor proclaiming me to be a 'sexually confused freak' or a 'beautiful young woman'. I denied to comment most of the time, usually just repeating, "I am happy with the choices I have made." The school was very supportive - they knew that letting me do the Deb would create a massive media frenzy but probably less than not letting me do it. Not all the girls were happy though; some of them thought that I would be taking the focus away from their special day and in a way that's true. If there are one thousand cameras in a room and only two are pointed at you, you might not feel as special as the girl with the 998 cameras pointed at her. But I couldn't help it.

The photographers weren't following me to school because they were already there waiting for me. From the looks of it, the TV show A Current Affair had their cameras out, trying to question people as they came to practice, probably asking whether it was fair that I was allowed to do my Deb. A Current Affair had already run some stories that had an anti-me vibe to it. I didn't hold it against them, there are only so many stories you can do about me and once you run out of the happy ones there's only one place you can go. Plus I did my exclusive interview with their rival channel.

But coming to school and annoying all the other students was going a bit too far. One of the producers spotted me and before I could move an entire camera crew was chasing me down. "Gemma! Gemma! How do you respond to the allegations that you are ruining other girls' special nights?"

Despite being advised against it, I responded. "Look," I squeaked as authoritarian as I could, "As a student of Marrang College I am given the same opportunities as every other student here. No more, no less."

"But surely the media frenzy you create will overshadow everyone else's night."

"I'm not creating anything. I mean, I am thankful for all the people out there wishing me well but I didn't ask for any of this public attention. I can understand why people find me interesting but I really did spell it all out in the interview I gave."

"But Gemma, don't you think being a Debutante should be restricted to actual girls?"

I think if you watched the footage back you could actually see the camel's back breaking with the weight of that last comment. "ACTUAL girls? What about me isn't actual, man? I have boobs, isn't that actual enough? I think my jeans are tight enough to see that I am an ACTUAL girl! Get a close-up, you perverts! Just because I'm a freak of nature doesn't mean I don't have feelings!" I clutched my face in my hands, trying to hide my actual tears. "Way to ruin my night, you dickheads!" I sobbed as I hurried away.

I wasn't lying, my night felt effectively ruined. I knew I hadn't always been a girl but I was one now. I was as much a girl as anyone else donning a dress for the ball, the only thing different between me and the rest of the girls was I was new at it. I was sure there was some girl who complained to A Current Affair about how unfair it was that I was allowed to do the Deb. I knew if I found out who complained they would be getting a piece of my mind. It would be quite easy to give a piece of mind because it felt like it was shattering.

I wasn't going home though, I wasn't letting people know that the pressure was getting to me. I wanted to do this silly dance thing for my Mum and maybe a little to hang out with Aaron. Although I wasn't about to put my tail between my legs and run home, I wasn't quite ready to face the judging eyes of my classmates either. There was a third option: power cry. After being thrust into this weird situation in this weird body, a lot of things got to me. At first I didn't know what to do, I spent a lot of my time moping around and crying. I still cried, but now it was only once every few days and it was all done in five minutes. Instead of going inside the hall, I skulked around to the back and turned the tears tap all the way on.

They were hot, angry tears that burned their way down my cheeks, like lava oozing down a mountainside. How dare someone insinuate that I wasn't an actual girl! That was my whole problem; I had turned into a real girl. There wouldn't be the problem if I only ended up looking like a girl. But the truth was each cell in my body was more womanly than the last. I slid down the wall and clutched my knees. I knew I looked pathetic but no one could see me so I didn't care. A real heavy cry can be good for you. Luckily I don't wear any make up otherwise people would be able to tell. I gave it a few more deep sobs and stood up as if nothing had happened.

I was looking forward to this Deb practice. I took a deep breath before I walked in and straightened up my clothes, I wanted to look as good as I could for Aaron. My entrance to rehearsal didn't go unnoticed but it didn't stop the whole thing. They were already in the middle of one of the dances. The couples all promenaded around in a circle, although because of the dimensions of the room it was more of an oval. The couples, some clumsy and others carefree, twirled, stumbled and waltzed around and around. I looked for Aaron, perhaps standing to one wait waiting for me or even sadder, dancing holding an imaginary me. But I couldn't find him.

In the corner, I could see Holly dancing with Sobey. She was obviously leading him and he was standing on her toes, I hoped she was disappointed with her choice. Alana danced with Tall Jason and Alison with Cameron, two Group A girls with equally attractive Group A boys. Alana gave me a huge smile and waved, I waved back. I liked being a Group A girl. Amongst the other couples was a mix of everyone else. There were some geeky band girls dancing with their trumpet or clarinet playing male counterparts. There was the slightly mannish girl, Marissa dancing with comparatively tiny Hudson. I loved the mix of the truly beautiful and downright awkward and everyone in between. Being 16 to 17 was such a weird time in everyone's lives and seeing everyone in this room really solidified how people mature at different rates.

It was then I saw him, my partner. Aaron was dancing cautiously because this was his very first lesson. He made the wrong step, going back instead of forward and the couples behind crashed into him. That made his dancing partner squeal in delight, her dark brown eyes glistening. It was Lilly! Lilly had somehow stolen him back! I looked around for her partner, Louis Mecchi and couldn't find him anywhere. Had I dreamed the whole thing? Did Aaron ask Lilly and in my crazy mind I thought it was me?

The old tape whirred to a stop and the dancers all fell into loud chatter about how badly they had done. There was laughs, squeals and punches in the arm. It was all good-natured. Most of the girls seemed taller, for a second there I was scared that I was getting even shorter until I realized they were all wearing heels. Mrs. Coleman must have suggested that they try the dances with their heels on. Of course I hadn't brought mine, I never had even taken a step in heels before, let alone dance dances that I've never danced before.

Mr. Coleman came up to me, his bald head gleaming with sweat. It was still warm weather but it was just beginning to cool down. "Welcome back, Gemma," he said quietly to me, "We're so glad you're are back here to make your Debut. Mrs. Coleman and I think it's a very important thing for you to do."

"Thanks," I said quietly, not quite meeting his creepy gaze, "I know we have some work to catch up on but I promise you we'll be quick about it. I remember the dances fairly well, I'll just have to learn the girls' half."

Aaron and Lilly came over to me, laughing all the way. "G'day Gem!" Lilly smiled as she was purposefully ignoring something Aaron had just said. "Shut up!" she told him and laughed as she poked him in the ribs, "No, shut up!" There was something deeply annoying about them getting along, I just wanted to punch one of them, preferably one I could take and I would have a better chance against a skinny Eurasian girl than the muscle-bound body Aaron had.

"Mecchi is at a debating comp tonight so I was borrowing your partner until you got here," Lilly explained.

"So, he's mine now?" I blurted out.

"Take him, he's fucking useless!" she teased, "Can't figure out if he's supposed to be going back or forward!"

"Only because you told me to go backwards!"

"Don't listen to me! I'm not the one leading!" They both laughed at each other like I didn't exist.

"Ummm…ok…" I said, seemingly to myself. Whenever people ignore me I feel so short, I know that's a common feeling but considering I had recently lost more than a couple of inches, it's really amplified. I feel like everyone's heads are way above me, like the tops of trees, and I'm creeping through a rainforest. Maybe I should wear high heels. And platforms!

Lilly handed Aaron back to me and returned to rehearsing partnerless. "Hi," Aaron said, while Mr. and Mrs. Coleman began the next dance without us.

"Hi." My voice could sound so quiet without me trying.

"Are you OK?" he asked me, "You look like you've been crying." I liked how perceptive Aaron could be, most boys would have only noticed how snug my top and jeans were. I certainly hope he'd notice that too, as I squeezed into them mainly for his enjoyment.

"This is a big night for me," I explained, "And some people think I don't deserve it." I blinked back some tears back, I had already had my cry for the next couple of days so there was no need for more tears.

"Yeah," Aaron agreed, "I saw the TV crew. Don't fucking give it another thought! We're here to have fun, right?"

"Yeah," I stuttered out meekly, not looking him in the eye.

"Wow. You sound convincing," he joked, giving me a little 'buck-up' hug.

I looked at all the couples, my classmates, dancing and wondered which ones thought I shouldn't be allowed to do the Deb. Which one of these people I have known for at least 5 years would deny me this simple thing? Who would class me as still a boy after they had seen me up close, inside a body as feminine as any other girl in my Year level? It was devastating to think that some of my classmates think of me as a freak. "I just wish people would understand that I'm acting like a girl because I am a girl. It wouldn't be healthy to act like a boy because I'm not a boy."

"If you're a boy then I am so gay!" Aaron joked. He sat down on a plastic school chair and looked me in the eye, "Look, don't let anyone stop you from whatever your heart tells you what to do, OK? There's nobody in this world that could possibly know what you are going through. I knew we weren't best friends before you went through your metamorphosis but I always thought you were a great person. Now that you've become a truly stunning looking woman I am sure that's not going to change how good you are as a person." He reached out and put his hands on my shoulder. There was nothing I could do but look him in his deep brown eyes. "As long as you are happy with yourself, I am proud of you. You have done so well to get this far, don't let anyone make you doubt yourself for a second." He cleared his throat as the dance wound down, "That's enough of a speech from me. Wanna dance? We've got like 6 weeks of lessons to catch up on."

I clutched him so tight as we danced. His big, strong, burly arms were the perfect security blanket for me. Wrapped up in them I felt like I could never be harmed. I was shielded from the accusing stares and the whispers. We weren't the best dancers there, in fact due to our inexperience we were probably the worst. We'd crash into each other and other couples but try and do our best to not to ruin the whole dance. We didn't get too worked up over it, Mr and Mrs. Coleman said they would give us some private lessons to catch us up.

My sexuality was going a little crazy. When I was male, arms never drove me crazy. But as a girl, seeing Aaron and his well formed muscles all over his arms I wondered why I never considered arms sexy. He was also hairy, not super hairy, but hairy enough to know that I was definitely sexually attracted to masculine features. For some of the dances the girl has to be held close and I loved the way he would take charge and hold me against him, his hard body held tight against my soft one. A shiver would run down my spine and tickle me in special spots.

We had to practise walking. At the beginning of the big night, you are officially introduced to society. The girl walks out on to the stage while the announcer reads information about her: her parents' names, her ambition in life, her hobbies and details about her dress. Then the girl walks down the stairs and is greeted at the bottom by her partner. The announcer then reads the same details (minus the description of the dress, of course) about the boy and they walk down the red carpet together, with one thousand sets of eyes on them. The couple stops at the middle of it all and the girl walks around the boy, showing of the dress. At the end of the carpet local dignitaries sit in some chairs, Mrs. Higgins our principal, the mayor and his wife, the President of the school board and his wife and the local Member of Parliament and her husband, meet the couple. Repeat that 24 times, with the 25 couples and that is the first 40 minutes of the Deb Ball. Exciting, I know.

The seemingly still not popular Mars Bar Challenge revolved around walking tonight, Mr. Coleman revealed that tonight's best walkers would each receive the prestigious Mars Bar. The girls, most of which were starving themselves too look their best in their dresses, all rolled their eyes. I looked over at Holly, whose eyes only glowed with the chance for competition. She really was so different from how I remembered her back when I was male.

"We can win this!" whispered Aaron, tantalisingly close to my ear.

"I'll do my best for you, my liege," I answered back.

The order on which the Debutantes come out is based on the Debutantes' height. Shortest girl goes first all the way to Marissa, the tallest girl. That's why it was so important to bring the shoes tonight, so that they could see how tall the girls were in their shoes. It annoyed me, it looked like I would be down the shorter end, even with heels on. "Do you know what type of shoes you are wearing, Gemma?" Mrs. Coleman asked me with her hands on her thighs, a sure sign she was talking down to me. I decided to have some fun with her.

"Sneakers," I told her, straight faced.

"No, not what you are wearing now, I mean with your dress."

"Sneakers," I repeated, "The skirt is so big no one will notice." The shocked look on her face was worth it completely.

"Just double check with your Mum if you are allowed to wear sneakers, I would recommend something a little more… appropriate," she told me, slowly as if talking to an alien.

"They'll be white," I said, smiling.

"We'll put you as number 6 at the moment." I was placed between Alison Sorokin and Caitlin Bertalli. Man, I really was a short arse! I comforted myself with the fact that I wasn't in the top 5 shortest girls, but there were 19 girls taller than me. I looked down the line as the heads got higher and higher than mine. Lilly was the friend nearest to me, she was around 10, Alana would have been around 14 and statuesque Holly was around the 21 mark.

Once we were assigned our number, we were told to sit along the wall so that we could be shown the proper way to walk. "Sorry, because I'm so short, we're one of the first cabs off the rank," I apologised to Aaron who was already sitting down.

"That's OK, I'm no giant myself." I went to sit beside him but his friend, Nathan had already taken the chair to the left and Lilly quickly stole the other seat.

"How's it all going, Gem?" Lilly asked, apparently unaware that taking the seat next to my partner would annoy me.

"Not too bad," I said, "I feel like such a shorty, Lil!" Honestly, while Lilly could be a little annoying when it came to Aaron, she was actually one of my closest friends.

"Yeah, you have lost a fair bit of height since…" People always had trouble when referring to my transformation. "That's OK, you'll be fine-tastic in a pair of heels. You just need practice. It's really not that hard but it does kill your calves." Oh, she had sore calves, which made it impossible to ask her to move so that I could sit next to Aaron. I looked down the wall, it looked like everyone had a seat except me.

"Shit… There's no seats left." I said.

I heard a patting noise and looked up. Aaron was patting his lap, inviting me to sit there. "C'mon up. Good thing about being so tiny is you wont be that heavy." Well, it would be much closer than Lilly. Mr. and Mrs. Coleman began their walking lesson so with no other chairs, I climbed up on Aaron's lap, sitting there as if he was right about to ask me if I had been a good girl all year. It was actually a very nice place to sit, although I felt dirty and girly and really small, at the same time. There were only a few pieces of cloth between my delicate 'holes' and his cock. Subconsciously, I squirmed a little just to get comfortable, not realizing this was the type of chair that noticed and might even enjoy every little rearrangement. I tried to sit real still after that realization.

Because my mind being firmly between my legs, I didn't hear a word of what Mr. and Mrs. Coleman were saying about walking. Everyone else had a look of deep concentration. Even Aaron, whose reflection I could see in the darkened window across from us, had a look of absolute focus. And more I was annoyed by how little I was paying attention, the less able I was to pay any attention to what was being said.

Suddenly and without warning, couple number one began to practice the walk with Mr. and Mrs. Coleman commenting. "Slower, chin up, don't forget what we said about your eyes!" Don't forget? I didn't even hear! My little bum wriggled all over Aaron's lap in worry.

"Couple number two!" they called out. We were 6, I had to figure out exactly what to do and exactly how to do it in just a few couples. I didn't want to let Aaron down. I didn't want him to think I was a stupid ladyboy who couldn't even remember how to walk properly. I leaned forward in order to study them very closely. It was Halley and Magesh, despite the height difference (Halley was quite short) they were excellent dancers. They would be the people to watch if I was to get it right.

"Good job. Just a little slower. Bow/curtsey. Excellent. This is the couple to beat, people!" announced Mr. Coleman as if everyone was dying to get a hold the elusive Mars Bar. "Maddi, Greg, you're up!"

I guess I got lost somewhere inside my head. I must have made a wrong turn on my way to concentration and ended up in autopilot. Because of that small mistake, I had misplaced a large amount of time. When I awoke Alison and Cameron were halfway done their walking. We were up next! I was so not ready! And it's not the kinda of thing to could sit out because we were new. It was walking and bowing and something else, I wasn't sure because apparently my attention span was shorter than this tiny body that was perched on Aaron's lap.

But my lack of concentration wasn't our biggest problem. As I hurried tried to cram, watching Alison and Cameron I noticed something. It was small at first, a twitch beneath me but the more I focussed on it the bigger it got. All my wriggling and squirming around on Aaron's lap had awoken his little friend. I had given Aaron an erection!

"OK, couple six!"

Shit! That was us. Now, not only was I unprepared but I had given my partner a tricky obstacle to overcome. There was nothing we could do, we had to walk. I slid down off Aaron's lap onto the floor, regretting my actions immediately. Sliding down him wasn't going to help things, it would only cause more friction and thus arouse the beast even more.

"We're so not going to win a Mars Bar," he told me as we walked to the centre of the room. Well, I walked and he hobbled.

"No, we are not," I agreed with a smile. Suddenly, with that little shared joke, the seriousness of the situation melted away. I couldn't pay attention long enough to figure out how to walk and had accidentally given my partner a boner. That's pretty funny. We assumed the position, I placed my in his and we started to walk.

"Stand up straighter, Aaron! No, more straighter! Slow down! Don't look at your feet, Gemma. Now walk around him. Don't move your hips so much, Gemma. Look us in the eyes! Now bow. No, Gemma you don't bow. You curtsey. And back. OK, you guys need to work on that. Couple seven, Caitlin and young Master McKeown!"

We walked to our seat, laughing at each other. Aaron sat down and I climbed up upon him. Even though his erection was gone I couldn't help but whisper, "Is that a Mars Bar in your pocket or are you just so happy that we suck at walking?" That made Aaron laugh out loud. Caitlin didn't look happy that we were putting her off.

After the walking debacle we went over the dances one more time and called it a night. "I don't know what Lilly was complaining about. You're a …good dancer," I told Aaron.

"I do not like the way you hesitated before saying 'good dancer,' Taylor! I'm a good dancer, aren't I?"

"Ummm… Yes. Yes, you are." We laughed at each other like no one else existed. "You're not even a good walker!" I teased him under my breath.

"OK, shut up everyone!" Mr. Coleman tried to get people's attention, "Quieten down! A few announcements before we go. You did really well tonight. Girls, well done on dancing in your heels, it really makes a difference, doesn't it?" In response, 25 different conversations between the girls erupted. "Shhh… Not finished up here. It would probably be wise that you practise dancing in them from now on. If you had trouble dancing in them today, I recommend walking around in them around your house until you get used to it. Just don't go and feed the chooks in them, Karen!" Mr. Coleman and Karen live next door to each other on farms, I know this because Mr. Coleman makes a joke about it every rehearsal, without fail.

"Also, girls," Mrs. Coleman spoke up, "If your dress has a petticoat, you might want to start wearing that to rehearsals too just so you can get a feel for it." I looked around, I seriously hoped I wasn't the only one forced to endure the ridiculousness of a petticoat.

Mr. Coleman leapt back in to his announcements. "OK, we'll be rehearsing in the auditorium next week so you can get a proper feel for the actual space. So remember that. Also in two weeks time we need your parents for the last half hour to teach them the Pride of Erin." It was a tradition that the final formal dance was done with your parents. Mums dance with their sons and the Dads dance with their Debutantes. I had completely forgot about that. When my gender was changed I ran into a problem — I hadn't seen my Dad in years, even the lure of my recent millions hadn't brought him out of the woodwork. I would be parentless for the Parent dance. I looked around the room and for once I didn't feel special. If there was one thing I had in common with a lot of kids my age it was divorced parents. I'm sure the problem of being parentless for the dance wasn't held by me alone.

"I'll dance with your Mum, if you dance with my Dad," whispered Aaron, his Mum had died only a few years ago. I had forgotten about that.

"If you think you can handle my Mum, then go right ahead, Lekakis." I guess that was that problem sorted. Aaron, however, didn't know the trouble he was in for.

"One last thing before we go," Mr. Coleman said in his booming voice, "I'm sure most of you are aware of the camera crew currently parked out on the front of the school lawn. I know none of you need to be reminded that talking to the press about any school matter is highly frowned upon, so we urge you to ignore any questions thrown at you on your way home tonight. In saying that, we all know why they are out there," I suddenly felt every single eye in the room focus right in on me, "Both me and Mrs. Coleman are extremely proud of Ms. Taylor's choice to rejoin the Debutante ball, we think it was a brave and mature decision. Anyone who thinks that her inclusion in the night's events will ruin the night should have a long, hard look at himself or herself. Goodnight, go home!"

There was the kind of silence in the room that hung high in the air above everyone's head. Most of the staring eyes had moved on, looking at the door or their friends or their mobile phone display but some were still stuck on me. I quickly said goodbye to my friends; Aaron, Lilly, Alana, Alison and even Holly and scampered off into the night. I went the back way, even though it was longer, to avoid the Current Affair Crew.

I was on the block where my house was when I heard it.

It was a voice.

"You wanna go for a walk on the beach?" they asked me and I knew I couldn't say no.

It was Dot.

********

Hello, the author here. The next 2 chapters should be up in a fortnight.

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story has been absolutely amazing. Thank you so much. There are only a few more chapters left. what do you see happening?

Kate Draffen (Chapters 24 + 25)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

Dot and Gemma fianlly have a heart-to-heart and Gemma has a rough day at school.

Hi there, the author here. I know these chapters usually come out every 2 weeks but I got on top of these rather quickly so here's a little treat a little earlier than usual. I hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER 24

"Dot! You scared the fuck out of me! Have you been sitting here waiting for me to come home?"

"When you say it like that it makes me sound creepy," she said, wrapping her headphones around her iPod and putting it in her pocket.

"Well, I definitely see it as creepy."

"Creepy it is, then. I just miss being friends with you. I mean in over a week we've only said 35 words to each other." Dot was weird enough that I didn't find it strange the she had been counting every word we had said to each other.

I suddenly remembered why we hadn't talked much in a week. "Look, you said some pretty mean things to me last week…"

"I know," she said without saying sorry, "But have you noticed I've been very pleasant tonight? I haven't even called you 'Hootie'." She said it so earnestly that it was funny.

"Well done," I snickered, "You also haven't shot me or raped me. You are being very pleasant."

"Point taken." She smiled her lopsided, wry smile that didn't reveal any teeth. She was wearing the beanie she had knitted herself, over the summer to prove that she was so much more trendy than everyone else. Supposedly knitting was very trendy. Aside from a scarf this was her first item. She loved that little beanie and wore it around a fair bit. It definitely softened her usually cold look and made her look 3 parts kooky and only 2 parts spooky.

"So…" Dot said as we meandered our way to the beach, the sounds of the sea drawing us in, "How was Deb practice?"

"I have to wear a petticoat," I revealed and awaited the barrage of teasing.

"Petticoat? Gemma, you've got a little girl's voice and a pron star's tits, I am pretty sure everyone already knows that you're a girl! You don't need to wear a petticoat."

"But it goes with the dress," I said, feebly. Even Dot who was an inch shorter than me could make me feel tiny sometimes.

"I can't believe you are doing your Deb again! I almost spat my coffee out when I read it in the paper," she then dropped her cynical, sarcastic veneer for a second, "It really sucks that I get all my news about my best friend from the newspaper."

She had a point. We had spent too much time making our friendship a nice place to be and lately none of us were spending anytime there. "I've got so much to talk to you about," I said to her earnestly, "I've been living in my head for so long, trying to be the best girl I could be. But I really need someone to talk to. I am forced to talk to Annette 5 days a week but I really just say what I think she wants to hear. I really want to tell you things but I don't want you to tease me."

"You never had a problem with me teasing you back before. We used to have a lot of fun joking around." We were now at my house but instead of going in, she followed me through the gate and down to the beach.

"Yeah, but it just seemed to be more mean spirited when I became Gemma. I'll admit my skin isn't as thick as it used to be but surely it's not that hard to be nice to me for a little while. I mean, look at me!" I gestured wildly and my boobs wobbled to prove my point, "You'd be a little on edge if you changed this dramatically too!"

Dot shivered a little even though it wasn't cold. That girl could be on the surface of the sun and still pull on a jumper. We didn't say anything for a while but it didn't feel awkward at all. Silence isn't always a bad thing, especially for two people who have a tendency to say the wrong thing to each other a lot recently. We ambled down the beach, just Dot and me. A lot of kelp had washed up in the last tide, so don't be imagining anything too picturesque, but it was still nice (as long as you didn't mind the smell). We walked close, side-by-side. It actually reminded a lot of the night when I lot my virginity to her, it was only a month ago but it felt like a whole other lifetime ago.

Dot broke the silence, "I really wanna hear what's going on with you." It was the perfect thing for her to say.

"Well, I'm really happy slash scared with how I'm progressing. I'm really getting a hang of being female, you know? I can choose clothes that kinda match, I feel comfortable in this body and how it moves now, and I can hook and unhook my bra behind my back now. Impressed? I know how to talk girl talk and how to behave which makes me happy because I like fitting in but I'm scared that I've lost a lot of what made me me, you know?"

"Well, listening to you now I know that a little bit of Michael has disappeared but I don't think it matters much. You're just as good or maybe even better now." I looked at her. "I mean it, Gemma. You're like a sweeter, more compassionate version of Michael now…" Dot had made a nice moment bit knowing her there is no way she could leave it alone, "who dresses sluttier."

I laughed, I had to. There was no real malice in that comment. All the acid that was dripping over her previous jabs was missing. "Slutty?" I queried.

"How did you get those jeans on? Did Nicole sew you into them? They're really tight. And I don't know if you've been told but breasts don't need to breath, so feel free to cover them up once in awhile. Those puppies wont suffocate." I don't know what had changed but Dot's comments no longer seemed to hurt me. Maybe it was because I knew now that she really did like me and this was just her playing or maybe she really was trying to be nice now. It was probably a combination of both.

"Maybe that's why yours are so small, Dot? Because they suffocated and died. Poor tiny little fellas! You never gave them a chance. If you want I could give them mouth-to-mouth, there still might be time!" Dot was one of the most flat-chested girls I had ever seen but she pulled it off well, I thought.

She must have agreed with my thoughts. "No thank you. I like my tiny two the way they are."

"Good choice, I've always got underwire digging into me." OK, so maybe I wouldn't trade in my magnificent pair for a Dot sized set but I'm sure I could find some pleasant middle ground. That thought alarmed me, I must have been enjoying being female too much, choosing my big boobs over no boobs at all. Although my outward party line was always, "I so wish I was a guy again," the truth of the matter was somewhat more complicated. While I would have liked my life to have continued being the normal, unremarkable life I was living there was a large (and growing) part of me that really was enjoying this exciting life and the body that started it all.

Dot posed a question to me, "So, you are trying to impress a guy?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Just a guess. Mainly based on how you are dressed; sprayed-on jeans and all. Remember when you went through that vest-wearing phase because Holly once said she liked you in a vest?" It was true, in the bags of my male clothes that we donated to the Salvation Army, there was like 12 vests, more than any 17-year-old boy should ever own. But it looks like she was more attracted to obnoxious dickheads like Sobey than guys wearing vests.

"I am in no way ready to handle a boyfriend, despite what my body wants. But my body wants to get Aaron Lekakis interested and keep him until my head is ready for it."

"Why do you think you aren't ready?"

"Well, Annette tells me that I'm still emotionally and sexually unstable…"

Dot couldn't help herself and butted in, "Sexually unstable? Like if you sucked off a guy your head will explode?"

I laughed, "Maybe. Actually she says it may put me in shock or something. She says it will probably be a year or more until I'm mentally ready for a boyfriend."

"A year walking around as teenage Marylyn Munroe with no sexual release? That's going to make you sexually unstable!" As always Dot thought she knew more than everyone else, this time a medical professional. "What you need, Gemma Mae Taylor, is a big, thick, meaty cock!"

"Funny," I laughed, "I used to have one on me somewhere," I patted myself down, looking for it.

The house grew smaller and smaller as we kept walking. The thing about walking along the coastline is the shortest way is turning around and going back, Australia is much too large to consider going the long way around. "No, I'm serious! Nothing confirms your sexuality, your gender and your place in the world like a long, hard screw!"

Now, Dot was usually fairly coarse when talking about sex, I was used to it. But there seemed to be something pushing her 'have sex' agenda that I was going to get to the bottom of. "You're quite pro-sex at the moment. What's brought that on?"

"Nothing. I just think it's important that a person can express themselves sexually."

"Oh yeah? Anyone I know?" I quipped. It was a little to dark to tell if she was blushing.

"Maybe," the smile in her voice was obvious.

"Who? Dot! Who's your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend. He's just a friend… with benefits. After you and I spent the night together I realised there doesn't need to be love in sex. Friendship can be the perfect substitute. Love is a fucking volatile thing, friendships aren't as dangerous." She obviously was oblivious to the last few weeks then.

"Dot, are you trying to tell me that you have a 'Fuck buddy'?" I air-quoted the term 'Fuck buddy' to make fun of her seemingly stupid plan.

"Some people may call it that. He prefers the term 'Fornicating Amigos'." 'Fornicating Amigos' there was only one person who would think of something that stupid.

"I can't believe you’re rooting Glen!" I practically shouted. If you had asked me over a month ago what would have been more likely; me becoming an actual factual girl or Glen and Dot getting it off? I would have answered that although both seemed impossible there would have been a better chance of me growing a vagina.

Dot was quick to leap to the defensive. "I didn't say it was Glen!" It so clearly was.

"It so clearly is! A close friend with benefits? Hmm… I wonder who that could be? Kev? No, despite being very good-looking he drives you ape-shit! Mads? No, because he's too asexual for you and you don't like younger guys. Me? No, because I'm a girl now and we weren't even talking to each other until 20 minutes ago. That just leaves Glen."

"Wow, I never knew Sherlock Holmes was so voluptuous!" Dot was evidently using her jokes as a defensive mechanism.

"Ha ha," I said sardonically, "But I'm right." She didn't respond to that. I knew it. A jogger passed us, trying to not get tangled up in the masses of seaweed strewn around by the hands of the tide. I always imagined the sea treated the shore like it was the space underneath its bed, a place to chuck any old mess. And then it would miss the things it chucked underneath the bed and bring in the tide to pick it all up again. I felt a bit like the sea, mindlessly throwing things out and then frantically trying to get them back again.

We sat down on a dune, Dot and me, it was no one's decision and we did it without saying anything to each other. "So, how do you like being a pretty girl?" Dot asked me.

"It's actually fun. You should really try it some time," I teased her. My teasing came across as more childish than hers due to my little girl voice. "I sat on Aaron Lekakis' lap tonight and he got stiff. You know what? I really like having that power. I remember when I used to fear how much power Holly had over me, I mean, I would have done anything for her and now with a wiggle and a wink I have that same power!"

"Oh is that why you hangout with the other walking hard-on factories, Alana Sturt and Lilly Bad-wee-wee?"

"Badawi," I corrected her, "I've told you why they're my friends; they were willing to help me when all you wanted to do was tease the shit out of me. Plus, you said yourself a little sex in your life is good. Thanks to them I feel sexy in this body and not just clumsy."

"There's a difference to being sexy and having sex."

"You do know I'm just going to text Glen as soon as you leave and he'll tell me the truth." Glen really didn't lie for some reason. It wasn't for any moral reason either, I think the thought of lying just never crosses his mind, that or he's too lazy.

Dot averted her eyes from the crashing waves and looked at me dead on, her square black fringe framing her face. "So what? So we're having it off, what's wrong with that?" Dot seemed to think that I was accusing her of some major crime or something.

"Nothing at all. Except, this is pretty massive. He's like our best friend."

"Upset you didn't get there first, Hootie?" When the situation didn't call for mean jokes Dot then went for just plain mean.

"You said you were going to be pleasant and no, I don't find Glen attractive in that way," I told her and regretted it right away. You don't tell anyone that their boyfriend isn't hot, even if they refuse to admit that he is, in fact, their boyfriend.

Dot snapped at me, "Oh, so you're too fucking hot for him, is that right?" and rightfully so. But I wasn't going to let her think that she could get away with being bitchy at me just because I was now a girl. If we were going to start this friendship anew there would have to be some new ground rules.

"Come off it, Dot! You know that's not it! You're getting rather protective of something that is just sex. Don't you think you should make it a real relationship before one of you gets really hurt by the casualness of it all? You know that Glen is probably dying to call you his girlfriend," I breathed in for what seemed like awhile but my speech wasn't done yet, "Your wrong about replacing the love in sex with friendship. Sex is all about love and lust. They call it 'making love' not 'making friends'! Time to grow a pair and show your relationship with Glen some respect."

Dot looked stunned. I think I was even more surprised at myself than she was. She pouted, "Your voice gets really squeaky when you're mad."

"I know," she was right. I'm sure there were dogs pricking up their ears all over Marrang. "You know I'm right though."

Dot smiled and punched me gently in the arm, "Don't make me admit it."

So, my two best friends in the world were soon going to be a couple. It felt weird, after my body did a complete betrayal and turned me into this teenage sex goddess I thought the strangeness was over, apparently not. I leaned toward Dot, "We are officially friends again right? You're not going to wig out on me again?"

"Who the fuck says 'wig out' anymore?" Dot inquired, "It's not the 60s or 70s or whenever 'wig out' was a cool thing to say, Daddy-O!"

"Shut up," I laughed "and hug me." And so we hugged. Two friends entwined in a display of friendship that must be thousands of years old. And do you know how I knew that this time was going to stick? She didn't make some stupid comment about my boobs squishing her while she hugged me. Dot just sat back and enjoyed the hug. After it was apparent that we had both gotten what we needed out of this conversation we started the sandy trek home.

"You do know I'm not going to stop being friends with Alana and Lilly? They'e a big part of my life too now," I told Dot, taking charge and laying out some ground rules.

"That's fine, let them be the Qui Gon Jin and Obi Wan to your Anakin Skywalker," she said using terminology she knew that I would understand, "I love you like a sister but there is no way known I am going to dress you up like my own personal Bratz Doll, I'll leave that to Tweedle D-Cup and Tweedle Bum Floss!" She looked very pleased with herself.

"How long did it take you to come up with that?" I asked.

"That's what me and Glen call them." I could have guessed.

"You and Glen. That's so weird!" I said, mainly to myself, "How is he at… you know?"

"A lot like you were. Clumsy," Dot flatly said, "but diligent."

That shut me up. We walked in silence once again with the sea continuing to be the soundtrack of our life. I had my best friend back and it felt kinda good. I think Annette was right in saying that a friendship is like trying to hold a piece of rope between two cars, you both have to be going in the same direction at the same speed to keep holding that rope. It was good to see that it was possible for someone to throw the rope back after we'd both lost our grip a little. And I knew we weren't always going to be able to hold that rope, we were never going in the precise same direction anyway, but I was going to enjoy it for as long as we could.

Conversations flowed as freely as the frothy, salty expanse beside us. I told her about my new job and my trip to Sydney. She teased me about writing for Dolly Magazine but I think she was secretly jealous. I told her about trying my best efforts to steal Aaron away from Lilly and she told me I was an idiot. Dot then told me that without my company she had thrown herself into her schoolwork and was now two months ahead. It felt good to tell each other things.

"So what brought you around tonight to reconcile?" I asked her as we neared my house.

Dot stopped walking. "I did something today that I felt really guilty about because I was mad at you. I'd love to leave it just at that but it's going to be on national TV probably tomorrow so…"

"You're not the one behind the A Current Affair story, are you?" I groaned. I was already dreading what they were going to do with the footage of me freaking out. I was sure they were going to edit it in such a way to make it look like I am some psychotic bitch.

"I'm not the one behind it all," she jumped to her defence again but then she quietly continued. So quiet, as if she didn't want to hear what she was saying herself, "But they did come around this afternoon and I did tell them that I thought you were being selfish and conceited by doing the Deb Ball."

"Dot? You didn't! 'Selfish and conceited'! Get fucked!" I was quite ready to speed up and make a sharp turn, leaving Dot unable to hold onto the rope any longer.

"Most of these girls wait their whole life to do their Deb and you suddenly grow a pussy and decide 'sure, me too'. It doesn't sound fair to me."

"1, I was doing my Deb long before I 'grew a pussy'. 2, it's not like they wont get to do their Deb anymore; I'm doing it with them not instead of them. And 3, you don't even like the Deb. You called it a 'disgusting ancient fuddy-duddy ritual where fathers auction off the fruit of their loins for the highest bidder'. And while I'm at it, 4, Fuck you! You don't understand that I need to do this Deb for myself. It's a confirmation of everything I have been working hard for." I sped up, not in the metaphoric car but my walk, trying to get home all the more quickly.

And then it happened. More miraculous than the tiny nanobots that entered my blood stream and converted me into the weeping girl storming down the beach. Something so surprising that I was amazed that the ocean didn't scamper miles away in fear. "Gemma!" Dot called out, "I'm sorry!" Dot had never uttered those words before and meant it. I was unaware that she could say those two and a half words at all. "I'm sorry!" She did it again, even louder and more sincere than the last time. She actually was apologetic over something she had done, I wondered if the people at the Guinness Book of Records would be interested in hearing about this. I turned around to hear her out.

"Look, even as I did it I knew I was being a total cow. But I was really angry with you. I mean, you have this whole new life with new friends, a new job, a whole new outlook on life and the most exciting thing I've done lately is give Glen a blow job during The Man Who Knew Too Much. I know that it's wrong but I can't help but think how annoying it is that you were dealt a really bad hand but you seem to have won the game."

Dot was having troubles putting the very obvious into words, so I thought I would help her. "So… you are saying that you are jealous of me?"

"I think I am. I'm afraid that I need you a lot more than you need me. We've been fighting for like two weeks and in that time you've turned your whole life around without me. You're prettier than me too, which is annoying. You're right. I'm jealous of you! I'm sorry, I really am. It's just something I'll have to deal with. Why didn't you come out as an uggo?"

So we hugged again and she walked back to her house by herself, trying to cope with her feelings of jealously and actual real remorse.

I quietly wandered into the house. Since they both had early starts in the morning both Mum and Nicole had given up waiting for me to get home and had gone to bed. I'm sure they were chomping at the bit to hear stories from my first Deb practice as Gemma but they could wait until tomorrow. I crept into our bathroom for a quick shower before bed. I quickly undressed without thinking much about it. My reflection no longer scared me like it used to, I recognised the girl in the mirror.

I looked at the acquaintance between my legs, tucked away between my thighs. My thighs weren't the best hiding place though, my legs were skinny enough as too leave a gap at the top, even with my legs fully closed. I reached around behind my legs and poked a finger through. Wiggling it around it looked like I had a very small but very active cock. I stifled a giggle.

This body had conjured up jealousy in Dot and caused Aaron an embarrassing erection. Despite the skinny little arms and legs this body was quite powerful. I thought about all of the modelling offers Tyler had told me about. In an exercise of pure vanity, I posed for the mirror, contorting my body into various 'sexy' poses. I cupped my breasts like the models in lad's mags. I turned, showcasing my butt to the mirror and looked back and made a shocked face, like they had caught me in a candid moment. I was getting aroused, not by my own reflection but knowing how aroused men would find these images. I secretly loved getting Aaron all hot and bothered knowing that his penis would have quite readily penetrated me. I spanked my firm little naked bum and watched it in the mirror. I wished Aaron was here to see this; it would make him forget that Lilly even existed.

I watched my nipples hardening, which is an interesting thing to do. My clit did the same, but I couldn't see it only feel it. It was like having three penises that were tiny scattered over my body. A hand slipped in between my legs and ever so gently rubbed. I moaned a little more loudly than I had anticipated. I watched myself in the mirror and wondered how many people wished that they could see this. This was turning from a lad's mag glamour shoot to a hardcore masturbation session very quickly.

My bare feet clopped down the hall to my bedroom. The plan for a shower had been abandoned in favour of a more playful way to spend my time. While my right hand still fingered my sweet, little pussy my left hand opened my bedside drawer. It hastily grabbed around until it found what I had told it to find. I pulled it out, got comfy on my bed, my knees a fair width apart and turned it on.

My finger felt so inadequate as I slid in the vibrator. While my finger did the trick, fingers were used for many things. My vibrator was built for one purpose and one purpose alone, to pleasure me. And it was good at its job. The walls in our dilapidated old shack were paper-thin, so I hoped the other occupants were sound asleep. I manoeuvred the pleasure device inside me slowly and deliberately. I still was relatively new at it all and I was still learning about what felt good.

I thought about Dot and Glen and the clumsy sex they were having. It seemed topsy-turvy that they were having sex and this body, seemingly built for pleasure, was going hungry. Maybe Dot was right, if I felt the craving I was ready for sex. Dot seemed to know me better than Annette. And what did Annette know anyway? The only other SGR suffer she had worked with extensively was John Draffen and according to everyone I was coping markedly better than he was. Contemplating real sex made the simulated sex I was having too much fun.

"Arrgh!" I moaned as one of my fingers tickled my clit.

I orgasmed…

Even after several orgasms I couldn't believe how much better it felt compared to my old orgasms.

I couldn't wait until I had sex for real.

CHAPTER 25

Today was going to be a big day. I had decided I was finally comfortable enough with my gender that I wouldn't change into my sports clothes in the solitary confinement of the toilets anymore. I was going to change in the girls' change room. "What brought that decision on?" asked Alana as we walked there with a couple other 'Group A' people.

"I'm now proud and comfortable with my body," I told them, my voice full of confidence.

"And so you should be. You're hot!" Alison told me.

"You really should film something as monumental as that," joked Cameron, "For prosperity's sake!" A lot of the boys treated me like one of the girls now, which I really liked. I think if I had followed Dot's advice and not lived out the role of a pretty girl I would have ended up a total outcast, more so than her. But because I made such an effort to fit in the boys teased me, talked to me and flirted with me like any other girl. I often wondered if any would actually go out with me or perhaps the social stigma of me being a former guy would be too strong.

The girls and boys separated at the fork and the boys went into their change rooms and we went into ours. This was the dream come true for Michael, I actually had permission to go into the girls change room while they actually changed but as Gemma I was more nervous than excited.

Because we were the cool kids, we were fashionably late, a whole heap of girls were already in various states of undress. The room had a peculiar smell, like too much BO and too much deodorant at the same time. I didn't know where to look, was I supposed to give the other girls smiles and nods or was I supposed to look dead ahead and say nothing?

Us 'A' girls took our positions along the back wall. No one else was there, as if it was reserved for us. I diligently waited to follow the lead from everyone else. Behind me the voices had lowered to a whisper, probably all about me but I had expected that. "Don't panic," Alana told me, "We haven't got anything that you don't have." She started casually unbuttoning her school dress as if nothing was wrong. So did all the other cool girls, I wasn't any different to them so I joined in.

"Oh here's a tip," Alana educated me, "Put on your shorts before taking off your dress to stop yourself showing off your undies." Her boxers slid to the floor.

"Aren't you Miss Helpful today?" I said, sounding quite happy as I tugged down my boxers underneath my dress. Alison got her sport shorts out of her bag, all the cool girls wore extra tight bike shorts to P.E. class instead of the stock standard baggy shorts that the school provides. They also buy their tops a size too small so it's more form fitting. You don't become a 'Group A' girl without being a Class A flirt. Alana, Lilly, Danielle, Becca and Alison all simultaneously wriggled into their form fitting shorts, it looked like a new dance sensation. I reached into my bag to retrieve my shorts. My hands touched the parachute material that the school made the shorts out of but moved on. I rummaged around the bag a little more and found my other shorts. I had bought my own pair of bike shorts to fit in more with my friends. I followed suit and danced my way into my tight, black spandex, bike shorts.

"Hey, nice shorts!" Becca noticed them as I was pulling them up.

"Thanks Becca. Thought I join in."

The cool girls all then reached into their dresses and began unclipping their bras. "You don't have to take off your dress to get out of your bra either," I was told by Alana as she wriggled around. I was surprised to see the hottest girls in school, all of whom wear tighter and more provocative clothes than necessary, being so modest. But I towed the line, clumsily taking off my bra while still wearing my dress. My former male dream of the girls Changing Room where public bouts of nudity were standard was fading fast.

I looked around, this demure style of changing clothes was the norm. While a few of the girls appeared to be topless it was only for a split second and only viewable from the back. I followed everyone else's lead and squeezed into my Sports Bra in the privacy of my school dress. Finally the dress came off and I slipped on the sports polo top, just like the rest of the A girls, a size too small. Despite a flattening by the sports bra my chest still looked impressive, encased by the tight polo top. "Looking good!" Alana enthused.

"You too," I echoed.

We scampered out into the gym, not wanting to be late. Mr. Dellaqua was known to throw shoes when he was angry with people, no joke. We walked in single file down the corridor like a row of sexy ducks. The sports bra was constricting but necessary, it seems quite weird that this body wasn't designed for running. Big boobs have been around forever, I wasn't the first victim. I wondered how did the large-chested cavewomen coped when being chased by sabre-tooth tigers. We all stood together by the wall, a bubble of trendiness surrounding us. I really liked being a Group A girl, there was an air of unattainability around us — the girls wanted to be us and the boys… well, you know what they wanted to do to us. I liked it that I was taken under the wing by Group A girls, I could have just as easily become a freaky Group C weirdo, chatting to me myself and annoying everyone.

I noticed Glen noticing my shorts. "Like what you see?" I said spinning around.

"I thought you were going to use your super powers for good?" He was a nerd 'til the end, "I know we're friends but it's actually the law that I have to check you out, Gemma Taylor."

"Understandable," I agreed. He probably wasn't aware that I knew about his 'Fornicating Amigos' relationship with Dot yet. He was probably even less aware that I had advised her to turn it into a real relationship. Glen was a helpless romantic. When we were younger we used to have sleepovers all the time. It was the perfect forum to wax lyrical about girls we loved. For me it was either my ex-girlfriend Laura or Holly, while Glen used to have a huge crush on Selma before he moved onto the much more beyond his reach, Alison Sorokin. Let's just say he has a large pile of poems about undying love that he would be very embarrassed if I brought them out.

"So, how was your grand return to the Deb, Shorty?"

"Not horrible. Some people are annoyed that I'm going to be the Belle of the Ball but fuck them!" I hated how high pitched my voice would go when I became indignant.

"Yeah, fuck 'em!" Glen's mock enthusiasm was entertaining.

"Get fucked!" I told him and added under my breath "Opps! You already are."

Mr. Dellaqua broke into the room like a marauding drove of warriors. "On your feet! OK, today we will be separating you into boys and girls…"

"And Taylor!" shouted Trevor Tull, the class clown.

The room collectively winced. Teasing me (in public at least) was considered extremely taboo. The teachers have had lessons on how to treat me appropriately and the students have had lessons on how to respect me. The message was simple: Gemma Taylor was untouchable, at least for the time being. I was aware that people were teasing me horribly behind my back and I had learnt to not think about it. While I could probably deal with a gentle amount of ribbing I was glad it was being curbed by the school. I knew first hand that people could be very hurtful and not even know it.

"Tull!" screamed Mr Dellaqua in a voice that was reserved for his angriest moments, "You're coming with me to the Principal's office." The room fell deathly quiet as Trevor slowly walked beside Dellaqua. "I'll be back in a few minutes, do laps around the gym until I'll be back in when I'm finished with this idiot." I am sure somewhere in the rule book there is something about not calling your students idiots, but Mr. Dellaqua was a Phys. Ed. Teacher and thus had probably never read anything for the last 15 years.

I felt the very familiar feeling of everyone looking at me. I shrugged as if to say, "Wasn't my fault!" Hopefully, nobody blamed me for whatever happened to Tull on his way to and at the principal's office. Nobody started running laps right away, we knew time was on our side before we had to. Becca came up to me, "That was so mean what Trevor said. He's such a wanker!"

"I'm not bothered. It was harmless. I hear worse from my Mum!" I told her and it was true. "I just hope they give him a detention and not expel him or something rash like that. People always walk on eggshells around me."

"Screw him," Alison joined in, "He's a dickhead! He deserves what ever he gets."

Some of the more nerdy participants in my class started to run laps around the gym, although Mr. Dellaqua was still ages away. "At least I got us out of a few minutes of punishment," I said, seeing the good side of things. The class split up into groups: the dorks, too scared of Mr. Dellaqua began to run laps, the rest of the class began to chat to each other and the 'cool kids' all huddled together, not bothering to mix with anyone else. The boys tried to impress the girls with a competition to see who could do the most push-ups.

"Hey, you're wearing the bike shorts - The official uniform of a girl who knows she's hot!" Aaron approached me.

"Just trying to fit in. Do you like?" I certainly liked the way Aaron looked in his tight shorts.

"Hmmm…" he studied me, "I'm not sure."

I leaned and said softly, "Let me sit on your lap and we'll find out."

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Nope." I liked the relationship I had going with Aaron; friendly, fun and honest. It would love for him to be that type of boyfriend; one that would enjoying joking around with me and much as fooling around with me. Maybe Dot was right, maybe I was ready for a boyfriend. I was becoming a little aroused thinking about it and I hoped the signs were not too visible.

"I enjoyed last night, I actually think I am going to enjoy this Deb business."

"Yeah, well, you've got it easy. I've got to dance in high heels and a petticoat," I complained.

"Well Gemma, the trade off it that everyone will be staring at you. Nobody is even going to notice I'm standing beside you."

"And rightfully so."

He corralled me into a corner of the gym. "Gemma," he began, "I need to talk to you." I hoped that he needed to talk to me for romantic reasons. I deftly adjusted my hair, trying to look my best for him. I licked my lips, trying to make them look more moist and inviting. I had made such an impression on him last night that wanted the privilege of putting his hands on my body whenever he wants.

Shoulders back, chest out, deep breaths. Now just listen and act surprised.

"Look, you've really been great to me," he began, "and ever since we hung out at Macca's party you've been so cool." I looked at my soon-to-be boyfriend; he was perfect. He had a goofy, sweet face, short curly dark hair and a body with better definition than a dictionary. He was going to be a fantastic boyfriend and I would prove to him that I was all woman.

"Now, since you are so awesome, do you think you can do me a favour?"

Oh, don't worry Aaron, you'll be doing me a favour.

"Of course, buddy," I said casually, "My mission in life is to please you."

Aaron continued, "Well, as you've probably noticed we've been flirting like crazy since the party…"

Oh yes! I've noticed.

"And after last night I'm fairly certain that we'd be great together."

Better than most.

"So I was wondering if…"

Here it comes, Gemma. Your next big step to becoming a real woman.

"You would find out only Lilly likes me or if she like likes me."

Oh.

Shit.

I have read this situation wrong.

"Of course!" I grinned as hard as I could, "I'm already fairly certain that she like likes you. I mean, that's what she's told me. Plus I've already told you that you're hot, you're like one of the hottest guys in the entire school, Aaron. Any girl would be thrilled to be asked out by you. Just go for it!"

"I know, but I haven't been 'hot' for very long so I'm still a little shy. I mean 4 months ago I was a chubby guy and now I'm all of a sudden 'hot'. Even though I'm in this 'hot' body I'm still in my 'chubby' mind, you know? Well, obviously you do know." Suddenly, all the bulging muscles melted away and I could see the Fat Aaron again, sitting quietly at the back of the class not saying anything to anyone, especially the girls.

"I've had a crush on Lilly since Year 9, Gem! I just don't want to mess it up. You know they say the nice guy will eventually get the girl? Well, it took me like 6 months of exercising and dieting and working out but finally I can get the girl. So, you'll double check for me right?"

"Of course," I said to Aaron, although I felt like I was talking to Michael. I think in high school the most romantic creature of them all is the boy dreaming after the impossible girl. It was me going after Holly, Glen going after Alison and Fat Aaron dreaming of Lilly. I knew that it didn't matter how hot I became or how much I flirted with him, Lilly has his dream girl and would always come first.

I hoped she appreciates him.

There was a whistle blast that shocked everyone. It wasn't Mr. Dellaqua; he was still AWOL with the troublesome Trevor Tull. It was Ms. Pike, the female equivalent of Mr. Dellaqua, only fonder of pain. "Listen up, Year 11s! Mr. Dellaqua is going to be stuck up at the office for a while so I will be taking the girls to join in with my Year 8 Netball class, while the boys can join Mrs. Moorefield who is running football with the Year 8 boys."

Luckily nobody shouted, "What does Taylor do?" I didn't want to lose another P.E. teacher to the bureaucracy of Gemma Taylor slander. However, I did wish I counted as a boy on this call. Mrs. Moorefield was as nice a teacher as you could get and would probably just let us go and have a study period instead. Mrs. Pike on the other hand was mean. It seemed to me like every morning some stranger would walk into her house and would punch her in her face everyday and instead of fighting back or calling the police she would just spend her entire day taking it out on her students.

"Oh great! A double period with Mrs. Dyke!" Alison whispered to me. Did I mention that she had a nickname?

Netball, for a girl's game, is really hard. Or more accurately playing netball against a 13-year-old girl who towers over you is hard. According to my bib I was 'GK' or our team's Goal Keeper but there wasn't any actual proof of that. Despite being yelled out to 'keep my hands up' and 'get in there and stop her', I wasn't doing such a good job in the goal circle. This child was dominating me, using her long legs to beat me to the ball, easily blocking my feeble throws to my team mates and even not noticing me at all when I tried to block her shots at goal. A girl in a training bra was beating my arse well and truly in the goal circle.

What made things worse was she looked up to me. "Wow! You're Gemma!" she said when she came up to my end of the court.

"Hi," I said, almost condescendingly, "What's your name?"

"Mandy," she told me, "I think you've been really awesome." She was one of those girls who get a growth spurt and they get it early. She was rail thin, with twigs for arms and legs. She was the anthesis of voluptuous. She was probably taller than all the boys in her class too and she would be until they got their growth spurts. She had long brown hair that looked like chocolate syrup that had been drizzled all over her head. The fact that she had braces made her look even younger, like 8.

And yet she could beat my arse all over the court. Without even breaking a sweat. I thought my new body was pretty diminutive and somewhat weak but I never thought it would have been that much of a problem because all girls were small and weak. But it is extra humiliating to realise that among girls I was in the smaller and weaker categories. There were certain things I couldn't do anymore. I needed the stepladder to reach the top shelf in the pantry now, just like Nicole and Mum. I actually had to get Alana to help me get the lid off my orange juice the other day. And while these all sound funny and cute I meant one thing to me — I depended on other people now.

It was a worry I thought about for the rest of the day. Being Gemma made me less independent. Mum banned me from walking by myself at night now because I might be attacked. What happened when I moved away by myself and I couldn't open the orange juice bottle? Would I have to go without? From a body that felt so powerful sexually yesterday was feeling pretty useless physically today.

And that wasn't the only thing on my mind.

"So, who do you think it is that bitched about you to A Current Affair?" asked Alana on our way to English class.

"Ummm… I don't know. Some coward who didn't have the guts to come and talk to me."

"I didn't say anything to the camera crew last night but I wanted to deck them all!" Alana was quite a loyal friend, "Are you going to watch it tonight?"

"I guess so," I admitted, "I want to see how they cut my little outburst at them."

"Well," Lilly began, "I told them that I thought you and Aaron had every right to be there and were going to make a wonderful couple."

I had bit my tongue all through P.E. but I had to do it now. "Speaking of wonderful couples, guess who was asking about you today?"

Lilly's eyes lit up, "Who?"

"Aaron wants to know if you like like him." I'm not going to lie to you, it did sting a little to say it. But as the old saying goes, 'Bros before hos', except I guess for me now it is 'Hos before bros'.

"Yay!" she clapped her hands, "Finally! If I had to flirt with him any harder my hands would have had to be in his pants! Tell him I absolutely like like him." I was happy that a hopeless romantic like Aaron was finally going to get his dream girl. I felt like there was hope for me yet. "His body is so hot! He's like the most buff guy in school!"

"Well, he thinks you're pretty hot yourself, Lil," Lilly smiled at that, "He's had a crush on him since Year 9!"

"Wow," she seemed genuinely surprised, "I didn't even know he existed until this year!"

Maybe his dream girl wasn't exactly what he wanted.

"Annette! There's going to be a story about me on A Current Affair tonight!" I whined during our session together. Despite my assurances that I would be fine without her, I still met with Dr. Annette Fischer Monday to Friday, 45 minutes every day. She wasn't the best person to talk to and she often shot me down in her precessional, condescending way but I understood that she wasn't going to leave me alone anytime soon. So each day was the same combination of agreeing with her how wonderful it was to be a girl, complaining about stuff that was annoying me and tuning out during her gross lectures on how my new physiology works.

She pushed her glassed up higher on her nose. "I know, Gemma. The school has released a statement on how proud they are of all of their student and how every single student is afforded the same opportunities to experience our wide range of extra curricular activities, no matter their race, belief system or gender."

"Wow," I said, unable to keep my eyes from rolling, "Nice counter attack!"

"Your school thinks the best defence is to portray you as an ordinary student who is living a normal life." I know it's highly unlikely but I am sure Annette is part Vulcan. There is just a certain quality to the way she says things to make her appear to be the daughter of Mr. Spock.

"Well, that's logical," I said her, but she had no idea I was teasing her. I laid back on the wheelchair, trying to pop a wheelie. Whenever the conference room was busy with a heads of department meeting or something we were forced to have our little meetings in one of the sick bays, which I liked more — more props. "I know people bitch about me behind my back but it hurts when they take it to national TV. Not only that, Dot said that she had some snide things to say about me to the TV crew too."

"How are things with you and Dorothy?" Why Annette felt the need to call Dot 'Dorothy' I'll never know.

"Pretty good actually. We made up last night and I actually had lunch with her and Glen today. First time in ages. It felt good to hang around with my old friends, you know. Reminded me of being Michael."

"Gemma, you know I don't like you referring to yourself, pre-SGR as a separate identity." It was true, I would get a verbal wrap on my knuckles whenever I did it. At first I refused to admit that Gemma and Michael were two different people and even now I don't think I am truly separated from Michael. I think I am one and a half people.

"So, you feel Dot is a positive influence on your life?" Sometimes Annette would ask questions that were so obviously leading somewhere that I would refuse to answer them but sometimes she would ask a real question that would make me have to think.

"Umm…" I spun the wheelchair around a little, "It's hard to say what a good effect is anymore. I don't really have a mission statement on who I want to be. I mean I have really enjoyed learning how to be a proper, functional girl, you know, inside and out. And Alana and Lilly and Alison and Becca have all been really great at that. Because of them I'm proud of my body, I'm proud of my status in life, I actually enjoy being a girl. But Dot is important to me because she keeps me from forgetting where I came from. I think it's possible to keep both influences."

Annette listened to me, really listened. "You know what? I think you're right. It is important that you keep social, make new friends, develop old friendships…"

"Have a boyfriend," I added.

Annette leaned forward, "Gemma, we've been through this. I think the idea of you getting involved romantically or sexually with anyone is an unwise one. Your whole psyche is reforming and you still have a lot of deep personal issues you need to work through before contemplating an intimate relationship. I know your body is highly sexual and that you have certain urges but we have discussed the alternatives. Have you been masturbating?"

Not a question I would like to be asked by anyone but I guess it was for my health. "Yes, Doctor. I masturbate."

"To the point of orgasm?" Wow, she really liked to make conversations awkward.

"Oh God yes!" I mimicked my voice during the throes of passion.

"No need to be silly, Gemma."

"Do you masturbate?" I enjoyed turning the tables on Dr. Fischer whenever the line of questioning gets too personal.

"Yes, Gemma. I'll think you'll find that a lot of healthy adult women do."

"Does John Draffen masturbate?" In every session I would ask about him. He seemed to be like my cracked mirror images and the more I learnt about him the more comfortable I felt with the crazy life I was leading.

"Of course he does."

"Is he cool? I mean, am I going to like him when I meet him?" I was all booked in to meet him at his house on Friday. I would lie awake at night and wonder what he was really life.

"John has been through a very tough time with his transformation. I know you have found life difficult, post SGR but he is practically a shut in. You must remember to be careful around him. He can get a little agitated." Annette talked about him as if he was a bad tempered housedog. I wished she treated him with a little more respect.

"But he's OK, right? I can still have a conversation with him?"

"Oh yes, he's quite lucid most of the time," Annette cheerfully informed me. Wow! 'Lucid'! This guy sounds pretty impressive.

"OK, let's move on. I have to conclude my little discussion about your menstrual cycle."

I wondered on the walk home whether missing out on my Japanese vocabulary test was worth listening Annette talk about menstrual blood for 15 minutes. The good news was that Annette said that soon she would return to Sydney and would only see me on a weekly basis. She said that was because I was developing well and was coping with the many difficulties I faced with thought.

Life wasn't too bad. Tomorrow I was being flown first class to Syndey where I would be treated like a princess for days and then meet John Draffen, the only person in the entire country that had some idea of what I was going through. This would culminate in a glitzy party for yours truly.

But first I had some TV to watch.

"Welcome to A Current Affair," it had begun. Mum, Nicole, Ben and I all sat in the chairs blinded by the massive TV Mum bought. Nicole and Mum were already spitting chips, ready to tear the show, its producers and host limb from limb. The host must have not known her fate because she continued talking. "Every year in many schools around the country, girls' dreams of becoming a princess for just one night are coming true. The Debutante Ball is an Australian institution designed to introduce young women into the social world. But in one school in Victoria with one rather infamous student has ignored some of their less famous students." Mum and Nicole both booed. I tried to tell them that no one could hear them boo but it didn't seem to bother them.

The screen cut to a girl. I knew her, she went to my school. She was actually doing her Deb. I knew her name. Mum and Nicole fell silent.

"Gemma Taylor's inclusion in the Debutante Ball line-up is a total mockery of the values of the whole event!" The girl looked angry. I looked angry right back. I felt hurt, betrayed and mostly, confused. The girl on camera was pretty even when she was angry, her pretty blonde hair glowed in the light, her eyes, filled with frustration were the prettiest shade of blue.

"That's Holly!" Nicole shouted.

****

Hello, the author here. The next 2 chapters should be up withiin a fortnight. These next Chapters will see Gemma finally meeting the titular Kate Draffen.

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story has been absolutely amazing. Thank you so much. There are only a few more chapters left.

Kate Draffen (Chapters 26 - 28)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

Holly appears on A Current Affiar, Gemma goes to Sydney and finally meets Kate Draffen

Hi there, the author here. I know these chapters usually come out every 2 weeks but real life got in the way. So here's three chatper, one extra as compsensation. I would like to thank everyone for the feedback, especially one fan (you know who you are) who has helped me when I was feeling low. I hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER 26

My head couldn't wrap around what it was seeing. Even my very own eyes had trouble believing themselves. On a national news program, A Current Affair, someone I would have considered one of my best friends, was bashing me. "I like Gemma, I really do, I just think that her doing the Debutante Ball would be a distraction from the real girls who have all put in a real effort." And now my ears had problems believing. Holly had gone all Brutus on me, right in front of my very eyes.

I sat there, quietly seething. I couldn't think of a way to label this treachery. "What a fucking whore!" Nicole said and that seemed to fit well. My mobile phone rumbled with the force of 100 angry allies:

Lilly- don't get 2 stressed gem hol is a such bitch

Cameron- We can beat her up. Just say the word.

Becca- What a bitch! Ur so much hotter than she is! I've got your back!

Alana- Why is Holly doing this? This is so not like her.

Glen- catfight !

Cue the sad music as the camera lingered on Holly, a cute and highly marketable teenage girl. "Holly Morrissey has been dreaming of doing her Debutante Ball her entire life," the 'reporter' informed us.

"Everywhere Gemma goes she is followed by a whole huge mess of photographers and paparazzi. I know to most people that would be there idea of their own personal hell but Gemma actually seems to enjoy the attention," Holly told the camera. The program then cut to a quick montage of me posing with various camera crews; smiling and signing autographs at the beach, wearing a geeky smile and waving while walking out of a shop carrying a lot of clothes bags, reluctantly showing off my party clothes at Macca's party and twirling in my school dress on the first day of school.

The montage did drive home the point I was a camera whore of some degree. What they failed to show was the hours of footage of me trying to ignore the line of photographers I seemed to be dragging around with me, looking positively glum because of their presence, politely asking for my privacy and right out abusing them. I just hoped that the viewing public was as savvy about selective editing as I was becoming.

There was a close-up of Holly wringing her hands in anguish, all the while my phone shook with the force of people willing to wring her neck. I always hated the close up of the hands, it was so clichéd. "While I admire Gemma Taylor's quest to become like a real female he has to remember there more to it than wearing a ball gown and dancing around." While that whole sentence was spiteful and mean the real kicker was that she called me a 'he'. How dare she!

"What do you think would be the best course of action for him?" The reporter was doing it too!

"I think Gemma should just bow out gracefully and stop our little Deb Ball becoming a media frenzy." I didn't create the frenzy! Stories like this create frenzy! I squirmed in slowly venting anger while Mum draped a supportive arm around me.

"And before you jump to conclusions about young Holly's motivations you should know the truth," the reporter said in a conspiratorial voice.

"I have been one of Michael Taylor's best friends for years," Holly proclaimed, "I was the first person he told about having Spontaneous Gender Reconfiguration too. I comforted him that night while he cried."

"Bullshit! You wouldn’t even have sex with me!" I yelled at the TV a little too loudly. Mum and Gemma shared a weird look between them. "What?" I shrugged, "The doctor told me I should have sex while I could."

"But either the fame and money or something about being Gemma has turned him into a selfish and self-absorbed thing." I'm a girl, damnit! Not a 'he' or a 'thing' but a fucking girl! "Gemma is always looking out for himself and always wants special rules just for him," Holly complained.

The program cut to the reporter standing out front of our school, the flags blowing patriotically in the sea breeze. "While a representative of Marrang College refused to be interviewed by A Current Affair they did release this statement saying, 'We are very proud of Gemma Taylor, as we are of all of our students. At Marrnag College every single student is afforded the exact same opportunities to experience our wide range of extra curricular activities, no matter their race, belief system or gender.' A nice sentiment. I wonder if it's true?" He then walked off screen as if he was rushing off to the story's next location.

"The Debutante Committee refused our entrance as a couple," said two people I knew from school. I didn't know them too well, they kept to themselves, just a tantrum away from pure Group C weirdo territory. The spent their lunch breaks and a lot of their skipped classes sitting behind the Trade wing, smoking cigarettes and making out. Sometimes the Year 8 boys would hide on some bushes around there, hoping for a glimpse.

"When Tracy and Donna entered their paperwork to be as couple to in this year's Debutante Ball at Marrang College, they were resoundingly refused."

"They said that a lesbian couple did not count as an actual couple. If we wanted to do the Deb Ball we would have to find male partners," Donna said as if that was the greatest travesty in the world. They were both troublemakers always pushing the rules as far as they could and complaining as loud as they could when the rules started pushing back. They always had some petition hanging on the Year 11 Hall's wall, trying to get some rule changed. I'm sure they saw themselves as persecuted freedom fighters, everyone else just saw them as annoying faux-lesbians.

"In a separate statement from the school it defends that particular ruling by saying, 'The Debutante Ball is in no way an expression of sexuality and while we celebrate the diversity of our students we strive to uphold the traditions of generations of Debutante Balls'." I understand the quest for rating but did they have any idea what sort of storm they were brewing?

"Does it seem fair to you girls that Gemma Taylor is allowed to be a Debutante and your were refused?" The reporter must have practiced that look of compassion in the mirror only minutes before the camera started rolling because it looked quite convincing.

They both shook their heads, heads covered in heavy make-up and piercings. Donna, the obvious leader spoke up, "No. It's not fair at all."

I promptly buried my face in my hands, massaging my temples. These were two completely different problems! A Current Affair were only muddying the waters with these posers!

"We tried to get more comments from other students about this dilemma but the school has effectively gagged them, threatening suspension and even expulsion for speaking to us. Interestingly two students did break their vow of silence to speak to us, firstly Dorothy Newsom, Gemma Taylor's closest companion."

The program cut to Dot, looking very bitchy indeed, standing out front of her house. "Dot?" exclaimed my sister.

"No, it's OK. She told me. We're cool."

Dot interrupted our conversation, "While I support Gemma in all of her actions I think that her doing the Deb is a little self-absorbed and conceited of her." Pretty much exactly what she told me she had said. In fact, if she said more they didn't show it. The segment barrelled on, trying as hard as they could to wreck me.

"The only other student willing to break the school imposed gag order was Gemma herself. Here's the unusual outburst that awaited our reporter just last night."

Cut to footage of me mid-tantrum. Of course they cut out the first part where I was quite sane, they even cut out the question that set me off, all the audience got to see was me, getting in the cameraman's face. "I think my jeans are tight enough to see that I am an ACTUAL girl! Get a close-up, you perverts!" Without context it made me look insane. It obviously wasn't me at my most sane, I must admit, but leaving out the rest was ridiculous.

"Does this look the type of person we should be introducing to polite society?" asked the reporter as if I was a murderer. They left a freeze frame of me up mid-freak out and Holly's comments were put over the top. The program cut to the reporter, back on the couch at Holly's house. "What would you say to Gemma if he was here now?"

"I'd say, 'Gemma, please think of the girls who have been planning for this their whole life. Why would you want to ruin their night just so that you can prove some stupid point? Please think of the girls." Hmmm, I was thinking of the girls, well more accurately just one girl and what I would do to her if I got my hands on her.
The host came back on screen and added to the story, "Since this story was filmed a student of Marrang College, Trevor Tull has been expelled for poking fun at Gemma Taylor, we'll have a story on that later in the week. But coming up next, a weight loss pill that guarantees to help shed those kilos."

The TV faded to black and then to commercial. "Well, that was a fair and balanced piece about gender issues," I sighed sarcastically.

Mum hugged me close to her, protectively close. "They had no right to say those things about my baby," Mum whispered through gritted teeth. She was under the impression that I was much more devastated by the whole than I actually was. I actually wasn't that rattled by the whole story, I had grown up with A Current Affair and other shows of that ilk playing in the background of a thousand dinners. I knew the show is closer to a soap opera than it is to the news; it needs heroes and villains, great injustices terrible tyrannies and liberal doses of human-interest stories to keep the masses happy. I was just filling in for the role of the villain until they could find some minority or shoddy business to pick on. I could have just as easily been portrayed as the amazingly brave princess who is doing her Debutante Ball for her mother.

I smiled and hugged my mother to reassure her, "It's OK, Mum. I'm not all upset by the story. I just can't believe Holly."

"I think that bitch is going to have a hard time at school tomorrow!" Nicole clenched her fists.

Nicole wasn't the only person who questioned Holly's personal safety. "She better not come over and talk to us," Lilly warned me as we chatted around the lockers. The whole school was a buzz over last night's A Current Affair so that meant no one at all was talking to Holly. No one wanted to be seen potentially siding with the traitor. It was obvious that she was trying to look as unfazed by it as possible but it must have been a little annoying to have no one agree with your stance (in public at least. I'm sure there are a few girls that hate my guts).

In saying that I wasn't the most popular person in the world either, Trevor Tull who made a tiny joke at my expense had been expelled and a lot of people seemed to think it was my fault. I didn't like being treated with kid gloves, I was a big… well, girl and I could handle myself. It was a confusing time, with the masses down on Holly for being so against me and yet angry with me for Tull's expulsion.

"Poor Holly," I said, watching her gather her books alone. I could still see the girl that I once had a major crush on under all the anger she had me feeling.

"Poor Holly?" Alana said in disbelief, "What about poor Gemma? You're the one she's trying to get banned from doing the Deb!"

"I know, I'd punch her if she came to talk to me but I think it's sad that she's going to lose friends over this."

"She never had that many friends to begin with! I mean we'd tolerate her for a little bit but she is such a two face! She'd bitch about us to her other 'friends' and then turn around and bitch about them to us. You don't make good friends like that!" Alana said.

I had always thought that Holly was friends with everyone, able to transcend social groups to befriend anyone, I didn't know that no one particularly liked her. Lilly helped confirm Alana statement, "That's so true, Alana. I mean Alison was her only real friend."

"I was her friend," I said, solemnly. It was true I had considered her one of my best friends. She had been a little standoffish since the transformation but before that we were pretty good friends. Or maybe we weren't but I thought we were because I had such an overwhelming crush on her. Maybe she was always this petty and now that I was stripped of my attraction of her I could really see that.

"So, what are you going to do about Holly? Want us to rough her up?" A short, skinny Eurasian girl was offering to bash someone up for me, that would have been hilarious if not for the fact that she would have a better chance beating Holly than I did. If my performance on the netball court was any indication, my skinny little arms contained no muscle whatsoever.

But the problem of what to do with Holly remained. Did she do what she did out of jealousy or spite or because she really wanted me out of the Deb? Either way she wasn't getting any sympathy from me. I pondered her punishment, it really wasn't my place to decide. If she thought I was some genderless freak then that was fine, there were tons of people who would agree with her. I still got letters everyday proclaiming me as freak of nature. The school had been strongly lobbied to kick me out with death threats to the principal if I was kept in school. Some parents even pulled their kids out of this school to avoid having to share a corridor with the dreaded ladyboy of Marrang College. I think I scared and repulsed a lot of people, Holly wasn't the first person to speak out against me but she was the closest person to do so.

"I'm just going to let her be," I decided, "Be the bigger person and let her live her own life. I'm not pulling out of the Deb, not for her, not for anyone."

Alana beamed a huge smile at me, "Don't let it get you too down! Today's your big day, huh? Off to Sydney. You're going to become a supermodel!"

"I'm not a model, it's just a photo shoot to help promote my column," I insisted. I liked to convince myself that the photo shoot was the least important part of my deal with Dolly, just a tiny thing I had to do to promote my column but whenever I told anyone the cover was all anyone was interested in. Anyways, I wasn't the right dimensions to be a model; too short and too top heavy.

Going to Sydney was really exciting. My first time on a plane and it was going to be first class. Treated like the celebrity people thought I was. Not only that but Tyler was going to be waiting for me when I get off the plane. He was going to be my tour guide and babysitter while I was there.

"Do you know what hotel you're staying at?" Alana asked me, since her dad was lawyer they could afford to go on holidays all the time. She had been to Sydney like 7 times.

"Some really posh one in the city," I said excitedly, "It overlooks the harbour! And I'm on like the twentieth floor or something; it's going to be great. I've never been to a hotel before!"

"Never?" Alana sounded completely astonished as if I had just admitted I had never blinked before.

"No, camping at Dunkeld was the biggest holiday I've ever had. We never had money for hotels," I confessed. I never realised I was poor until school when other kids had more toys, gadgets, holidays and other such luxuries. I couldn't understand why we were poor, Mum worked harder than most parents I knew. I took me sometime to grasp that a waitress didn't earn as much as a lawyer, no matter how hard they worked. I had seen the look Alana's eyes a lot before; it was pity. While we weren't the best off of families we certainly weren't picking food out of bins.

"Well then, you're just going to enjoy it all the more. Sight seeing, a photo shoot, a party in your honour, you're going to have such a good time!" The look on Alana's face made her look like she wished she had little tiny robots inside her to change her gender too.

"You forgot the most important part — I get to meet John Draffen."

First class is nice. Really nice. I'd totally recommend it if you're never tried it. I almost wish I had flown economy before so that I could enjoy it all the more. The flight attendants were really nice. The other passengers whispered to each other when I got on the plane, which was fun because it made me feel like a real celebrity. So far I only had a few glimpses of what a real celebrity must feel like and having people whisper about you while you sit down in first class must be a fairly universal experience for most celebrities. My little round bum plopped down excitedly on my massive chair. There was much more leg room than I had legs so it almost felt like I was wasting it. Turning into a girl did have a few drawbacks I thought as the flight attendant brought me some snacks, but a fully paid for trip to Sydney was not one of them.

Tyler was waiting for me when I got off the plane. My eyes hadn't seen him since they had become sexualised and I got a little bit of a shock when I saw him standing there. He was hot! I knew Mum and Nicole had said it and even my memory told me it but seeing him there, dressed for business was a shocking reminder. "Hey kiddo," he said, hugging me. I hugged back, hard, letting his manly musk wash all over me. Maybe I hugged a little too hard and a little too long, he almost had to pull me off of him. "You want to be a huge celebrity, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?" I asked, curiously.

"You're wearing sunglasses indoors. Only people who want to stick out wear sunglasses indoors. Did you wear them the entire flight?" I tried to keep a straight face as I told him no but a smirk may have cracked the otherwise smooth veneer. "You are such a goof. Anyway, you may be happy to know that there is an army of photographers out there just waiting for you. I think the paps like it when they don't have to come out to the sticks to find you." I didn't like it when people made fun of Marrang. Sure, it wasn't huge by anyone standards but we were officially a city and any place with more than one Macdonalds was big to me. We had two.

The sliding doors slid open and there was only a second I had to enjoy Sydney in peace before I was surrounded. They came from all angles, clicking and flashing and shouting at me to look their way. I did my best to make them happy without slowing down my walk. I smiled, waved, tried to make my walk look at sexy as possible all the while still striding towards Tyler's car. "Thanks guys," I told the press, not answering any of their questions. I slid into Tyler's luxury car very smoothly and he shut the door behind me. I crossed my silky legs and smiled as sweetly as I could until Tyler put my bag in the boot, ran over to the other side and drove away.

"Well, it's not the same 'Welcome to Sydney' that everyone gets but you handled that quite well."

The sky began flicking down droplets of water and for the first time in awhile I saw rain. Most of Australia was in drought and while I knew a few drops in Sydney wasn't going to make a huge difference, there was something comforting seeing the sky shed a few tears. I felt I was going to be cleansed by this city.

Tyler asked me the prerequisite questions about my flight and I gave him what I thought were the prerequisite answers. The entire car trip there was a nice dynamic forming, he teased me like an older brother would and I fought back as best I could. It made me feel safe and secure in a city I had never been before. Sydney was a beautiful mixture of the old and new. I cheered when I caught sight of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. It was strange to think if I didn't have the displeasure of turning into a girl I would have had no chance of being here, in a luxury car, on the way to my all-expense paid 5-star hotel. I squeezed my thighs together, I still missed the little fellow that used to live there a lot but this eased the pain a little.

"OK, here's the plan. We're going to drop you off at the hotel, you can get settled for a little bit and then I can take you out to dinner and show you a bit of my town. You like?"

"I like," I grinned, absentmindedly rubbing my legs in excitement.

As I told Alana, I had never stayed in a hotel before. The closest I ever came was a three-man tent. Going from a three-man tent to a five star hotel is a jarring experience. Sure, its pleasant but it's fairly jarring too. It's like if a man had eaten only cardboard his entire life and you gave him a roast chicken, although it would taste delicious he would still be a little unsure.

"This is bigger than my entire house!" I gushed in the doorway of my mini-palace. I ran inside just in case the room tried to run away from me.

Tyler followed me in, "You know people often joke about things like that but I actually think you're right."

I ran around my new home (for the next three days), bounding from place to place. "I thought a hotel room was just one room! This has three beds!" I have no idea why I had three beds, I didn't need a new bed every night. Then I did something I hadn't done in years- I jumped on the bed.

"Well, not all hotel rooms are like this. This is a rather expensive suite. Only the best for someone as sophisticated as you, Gemma," Tyler said without breaking. He was only a few years older than me, maybe 6, 10 at the most but yet he was a universe away from jumping on the bed. That only made me want to jump higher and have more fun.

Oddly enough, having fun is a lot of fun. There is simply nothing better than having fun. As kids it's our primary goal, we do whatever we can do have as much fun for as long as we can. But as we get older we get more responsibilities which interrupts our fun time, until instead of seeking fun all the time, you only get a few times in a year when you're truly having unashamed, unabashed fun. I was not going to give up having fun without a fight.

"Come on! Join me!" I said, beckoning him with my finger. In the moment, I honestly didn't think of the sexual connotations - a teenage girl, playfully bouncing on the bed, begging for company — but in hindsight I could fully understand the hesitation in his face. This body was still new and while sometimes I was painfully aware of how alluring I was, I often forget that even something as simple as me bending down to pick something up could create nasty thoughts in the nicest of minds. No one ever got aroused when I used to pick stuff up as Michael. "When was the last time you jumped on a bed?" I asked Tyler, mid-flight.

"Actually yesterday."

"Liar!" I said with my last big bounce. I lifted my legs in the air and came tumbling down on my bottom. I sat on the bed, feeling very pleased with myself indeed. "Aww," I cried out, "Where's the mint? I thought all hotels gave you a mint on your bed."

Tyler did not appear to find the mint injustice as bad as I did. "Not all hotels. This one gave you a huge arse fruit basket instead. Didn't you see it when you ran inside? It's massive."

"But no mints?" I pouted.

"I don't think so."

"Shame," I whined, "It's a damn shame!"

"If your whole enjoyment of this trip hinges on whether you get pillow mints or not, I'm not sure I want to take you out tonight," he proclaimed. Of course that did the trick and I promised not to bother him with my mint-moaning again.

Tyler wandered over to the wardrobe and opened it, revealing it to be very stocked with a lot of clothes, girl's clothes, "In that case, the very nice people of Dolly magazine has very nicely stocked your wardrobe with some pretty trendy clothes. Why don't you have a shower and get ready and when you're done I'll be waiting for you in the lobby."

"You don't have to wait in the lobby! Just chillax in my suite while I get ready, you can stop me from wearing something daggy."

"No, it's fine," he said, "I've got some calls to make anyway."

"C'mon. I don't mind. I have three beds, it'll feel empty if no one's here."

"No, it's cool, I'll be in the lobby." We walked to the lounge/kitchen area together. I admired the beautiful view of Sydney for a moment before heading into the bathroom. The bathroom was larger than my bedroom at home. There was a spa bath, a separate shower, a huge mirror and bench, a toilet and a bidet. I'd only seen bidets in books and movies of course but now I had my very own. I sat my toiletries bag on the bench and pulled my pants down. One thing that I miss about being a guy is how easy it is to piss. I don't like having to go through the whole rigmarole that a girl needs to go through to get things done. Back when I was a guy, a quick wee was exactly that; quick. I wiped myself and then went to the bidet.

"Aren't you a strange creature?" I told it as I figured out how to sit on it. I'm not sure why I was indeed trying it as the simple wipe had done me well quite well in the past but it was exciting and scary and that was enough incentive for me. My skinny thighs touched the cool porcelain as I squatted over the bowl. "Here goes nothing!" I sighed as I pushed the lever, sending a jet of warm water right at my private area. While it wasn't a dramatically pleasurable as the showerhead, it still gave me a little tickle. I let out a laugh and squirmed a little at the odd feeling. Let it never be said that I never try anything new. I grabbed a towel and patted myself dry.

The water pressure in the shower was breathtaking. Comparing it to the trickle at my home was futile- one was a dribble and the other made me feel like I was standing underneath a waterfall. Thanks to the generosity of the hotel I had a lovely shower cap to keep my hair from getting wet. I wasn't very dirty since I had showered before Nicole drove me to the airport but still it was a nice experience after the flight. I wondered where Tyler was going to take me tonight. I'm sure it would be somewhere nice as he had impeccable taste. Admittedly, I had a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on him, I knew it. I also knew it could never go anywhere; he was older than me and lived in Sydney and he was my publicist. But he was funny and cute and it didn't really hurt to dream.

I clambered out of the shower, dripping wet and wondered how much Tyler would enjoy the view. Too bad he's in the lobby I thought, he was missing out on a great view. I questioned what sort of clothes the good people at Dolly magazine had sent me. I had brought up some clothes of my own but literally threw them in my suitcase minutes before leaving the house. If I wore their stuff it wouldn't need an iron, which would be good.

Now, in my defence I thought the outcome of the conversation between me and Tyler was fairly explicit. I thought it was decided that he was going to wait for me in the lobby downstairs. And because I thought that, I didn't think the walk from my hotel suite's bathroom to the lounge would be interrupted by anyone. I wanted to grab some of the fruit Tyler had mentioned. And because I didn't think I would bump into anyone I didn't put any clothes on, because I would only have to take them off in the bedroom again. It all seems logical. However, I was only a few strides out the bedroom door when I realised that Tyler was in the room. I didn't panic, I could have leapt high in the air and ran back into the bathroom apologising profusely but I didn't. Mainly, because I didn't want him to think that it bothered me. I would look so much cooler to him if I was nonplussed about the whole thing. There is nothing cooler than a naked girl in control.

"I thought you were going to wait for me downstairs," I said, hands on hips. His face was priceless, for someone as composed as Tyler, he look truly shocked. A feather could have knocked him over, maybe even a strand of hair could have sent him flying to the ground.

"You told me I could stay…" he stammered.

I sighed, still in control, still naked, "But you said you were going downstairs. And I thought I would try some of this fruit basket. That's why I am au-naturale! Ah well… nothing you haven't see anyway. Ooh bananas! Stay here and help me choose something to wear to dinner."

"You told me I could stay…" he mumbled again as he waited in the lounge, if I was a little less forceful I'm sure he would have hurtled towards the lift but I was calm, collected and completely naked. I closed the door behind me and almost collapsed, that had been so embarrassing and yet thrilling. My weak legs took me over to the wardrobe and I drank in the wide array of clothes Dolly had sent me. Jeans, tops, shoes, skirts and dresses all lay before me. Tyler had just seen me naked so it seemed a little pointless to dress to impress him but there was still a niggly little desire to please him.

"Formal or casual?" I shouted.

"Casual," he replied, which let me off wearing a dress. Even though I had to wear a school dress everyday and my Deb dress I was still a little reticent to be throwing on any other dresses. I wasn't a girly girl and I doubted I ever would be, I never wore pink and my make-up was always minor. However, there was a challenge that I did need to tackle soon.

"Can I wear high heels with jeans?" My schooling in fashion was in no way complete; I was a novice who needed her hand held in pretty much every fashion decision.

"People do that, yes," was the response.

And so that's what I did. After jumping and squirming into the tight pair of skinny jeans Dolly Magazine had gifted me, I put on a pair of black high heels, the smallest heel of course. I picked a top I thought matched and put on some make-up just like Lilly and Alana had taught me. On inspection with the mirror I thought that I looked pretty damn good. I adjusted my cleavage, to show a little more and pulled open the door. "Is this any good?" I asked modestly, knowing the answer.

"Shucks, you scrub up well!" Tyler exclaimed.

"Shucks?" I said screwing up my face in confusion.

"I wanted to say 'Shit!' but I didn't want to swear in front of you," Tyler could be unbelievably cute when he wanted to be. Half of my mind was entertaining dirty thoughts about him, while the other half was trying to figure out if that was OK. I was already swept up in the romanticism of the big city despite being in it for little more than two hours. It would be wrong of me to say I was seriously considering having sex with Tyler but the lure of Sydney did make a thought like that stick around in my head a little longer than usual.

"Ready to go?" he asked. I strode towards him, slowly and deliberately. I was new to high heels and I tottered slightly as I walked but I thought I was doing pretty well. The nice thing about the shoes was the recovered height, I was nowhere close to regaining it all back but it was a start. I grabbed my wallet and put my key card in there. I had brought a purse with me, but like the dress it was on a 'use-only-when-absolutely-necessary' basis.

Tyler knew a lot of Sydney; in a previous life he must have been a tour guide because he was very good at explaining everything to me. He knew where famous people were born, lived and died, where amazing things had happened and interesting facts about them all. He didn't mind that I wanted to see the stereotypical touristy things; like the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House, which was nice. He promised me that we could go on a Bridge climb and actually climb the Harbour Bridge before I left, which would be incredible. He drove me around the city and showed me everything of interest. "They're still following us!" Tyler banged his hand on the steering wheel in frustration.

I looked behind us, some photographers had followed us the entire trip, winding through the sights of Sydney. Tyler considered himself to be quite the getaway driver though and had bragged that he would be able to lose them quite easily. That was obviously not the case. "I don't care," I told him, "I've had a million photos taken of me these last couple of weeks, so one or two more isn't going to hurt. Hell, I came up here for a photo shoot! I'm not camera shy." He shrugged his shoulders and proceeded towards our eating destination.

"Now I could take you to the fanciest restaurant in the entire city, but I don't think you're that type of person, kiddo."

"What do you mean by that?" I arched one eyebrow, something I discovered I could do in the mirror. In my old body, I couldn't move my eyebrows independently but I learnt that this body had a few tricks up its sleeve. I was now fairly double jointed and was able to bend my wrists in weird angles, I could cross my eyes, do the splits with ease, twitch my nose and roll my 'R's but I couldn't clover my tongue like I used to. Another hidden talent was carrying a baby to full term and then giving birth to it but I wasn't ready to try that out now, or perhaps ever.

"I mean that I think you'd appreciate a nice, private, friendly simple restaurant with personality. One where people go to eat great food and not to get noticed." He had read me a little wrong. Normally, he would be right on the money, but I was in Sydney, wearing make-up and high heels, feeling like a big deal I would have liked to be eating somewhere where other celebs go.

"That sounds good," I said, expertly hiding my disappointment.

It turns out that it was good. It was a friendly little Thai restaurant that Tyler had eaten at for years, since he first moved to Sydney for university. They knew his name there and greeted him warmly as he walked in. They also shook my hand and told me I looked even more beautiful in person than on the TV. It was weird just going out with Tyler, I thought there would be other people like my editor from Dolly or even Dr. Chisholm there but it was just us two. It certainly helped me fantasize that we were dating, which couldn't have been healthy. He chivalrously pulled out my chair for me, proving he was a gentleman and looked deep into my cleavage as I sat down, proving he was a man. I am sure he thought he was being sneaky about it but I knew.

"Do you like Thai food?" he asked, a little late in the dining process to be anything but idle chitchat.

"Umm…" I sighed posing over the menu, "I hope so."

"You've never eaten Thai food before?" I was sick of middle class people being surprised that I hadn't done some middle class things. I was lower class, damn it! And now I am millionaire, so I guess that makes me upper class.

"I live in Marrang, where am I supposed to have eaten Thai before?" The truth was I think we have a Thai restaurant but we were poor and had no money to waste on what my mother would deem 'ethnic food'. If we were going out for dinner it would always be at the pub my Mum worked at because she got all the meals at half price. So, Beef Stroganoff was as exotic as my palate got.

A pretty Thai waitress came to collect our order. "So, Gemma, should I order for you then?" My nod was meek and eager at the same time. He spoke softly but assertively to the waitress who dutifully shuffled off to tell the chefs of our order. I thanked Tyler for covering for me. "Not a problem. I didn't get anything too outlandish for you. You'll like it."

Tyler wasn't wrong. I did like it. The 'it' in question was some tasty homemade spring rolls that I dunked quite liberally in some sweet chilli sauce and a roast duck salad with rice. It wasn't too outlandish and it was nice. The conversation was the real highlight of the night. Tyler was an excellent talker, I guess that's why he was so good at his job. Even though we had only known each other on and off for only a few days, he made me feel like one of his best friends.

"So," he said as the evening was preparing to pack up and bring the night in, "What's better?"

"Huh?"

"Boy or girl? What's better?" I didn't like that Tyler knew I was a guy, in fact I didn't like anyone knowing that. I wished people would just forget about it. If I was going to forge a 'normal' life for myself I needed people to treat me like a normal person. Up until that point, Tyler had treated like a normal person.

"I don't know if that's an answerable question. 'Michael or Gemma?' is a question that would be a little easier."

"OK then, Michael or Gemma?"

"Well, I doubt that I would be here, in Sydney and being paid a fortune to be here if I was still Michael. I liked my old life, but it and I was fairly unremarkable, you know, black and white. Now, everything is in Technicolor; more friends, more excitement, more experiences, you know? If I could have had all those things and retained my old genitals I would have been happy with that. But it's not like this body is no good."

Tyler leant in and told me, "I think it's a perfectly fine body." With statements like those it was easy to pretend he was my boyfriend, I wondered if he was pretending to be my boyfriend too. I shook my head in hope of sending those dirty thoughts out, flying out of my ears. I was just getting caught up in the romanticism of being a big town, there was nothing between me and Tyler. But I did notice the way he touched the small of my back as he led me out of the restaurant, and the way he opened my car door, all the while shooing the photographers away and the way he would glance at me when he thought I wasn't looking.

He dropped my off at the hotel suite and it felt like he was dropping me off after a date. I lingered at the front door making idle chitchat and I fumbled for my key-card. "So, did you like Thai food?"

"I actually did. It was quite filling though," I smiled as I finally retrieved my key-card, "You picked good."

"Thanks, I'm glad you liked it." If this were a date, he would be trying to kiss me about now, I thought. But the air wasn't heavy with sexual tension instead he was texting someone. Maybe I had imagined the appreciative glances at me and romantically suggestive comments. Maybe it was the air conditioning making my nipples hard.

"So," I tossed around the idea of inviting him in but decided against it, "what time tomorrow?" Tyler was going to drive me to my photo shoot the next day. He held up 7 fingers and I winked at him and nodded. He gave me a thumbs-up and blew me a kiss. I continued our little silent moment and waved goodbye. He walked away towards the lifts.

Now when I tell you that I began roughly fondling my own breasts as soon as I closed the door behind me, you'll think that I'm obsessed with sex. In my defence, I just went on a first date, filled with sexual tension (real or imaginary, I'm not entirely sure) and I am a teenager filled with all types of hormones. I am surprised I can control myself in public sometimes. I did show some self-control, it didn't lead all the way, I stopped myself, panting heavily, tits out of my top, to admire the view. The lights of Sydney twinkled below me, drowning out the stars. It was almost like gravity had given up for the day and had let the sky swing down to the bottom. It was gorgeous, breath-taking and sadly, temporary. I wondered briefly if I could move here, if Mum would let me go to boarding school in Sydney. I knew she wouldn't. She hated private schools.

Even the beauty if the city couldn't keep my eyelids from performing their duty. They slowly dripped down my eyes, reminding me that I had to spend some of my trip in bed, asleep. I tottered to the bathroom, took off my make up and brushed my teeth. Tomorrow, as well as playing girl I was also going to play the role of model. I wasn't sure how I felt about being a model. Sure I was pretty enough in an ultra-curvy semi-tomboy kind of way, but that wasn't what was bothering me. Putting a huge picture of me on a magazine is quite an audacious way of confirming my gender. I now thought of myself as female, but would that always be the case? Maybe I would reconnect with my masculine side one day and my modelling stint would be mortifying beyond belief. If that was the case, I thought, so would me wearing make-up, doing the Deb and wishing Tyler was my boyfriend and so far I hadn't done a lot to stop any of that. If I ever did have a re-awakening of my masculine side, it would just have to deal with all the girly things I had done.

I shuffled into the bedroom of my suite. It had been a long day and I was excited to sleep in a bed larger than my bedroom back home. However my big day of surprised was not quite over. Sitting on my bed with a little note that read 'Enjoy' was a chocolate mint!

Tyler is such sweetheart.

CHAPTER 27

Sleeping in my massive bed was heavenly. It reminded how much I loved sleep. It's funny to love sleep because people waste so much of their lives doing it, but in the right bed under the right conditions it can be pleasurable beyond belief. I awoke, my legs and arms splayed across the massive bed, the satin sheets hugging my body like an eager lover. I stretched like a cat, enjoying that wonderful place halfway between asleep and awake. I reached for my phone and turned off the alarm. Tyler would be here in an hour so I had to get ready for him, I wondered if this state of undress would make him happy or not. Of course it would, I thought, I look like a Goddess. Albeit a Goddess who needed a shower.

I didn't feel the need to dress up much, I would only have to put on whatever they gave me anyway. As I lowered myself into the soft cups of my bra, it amazed me how casually I was doing it. I had boobs! I was putting on a bra! This world is officially crazy and yet because it's been almost a whole month I was OK with it? I was adapting to this quite well, I thought. But was there such a thing as too well? I had been male for 17 years and all it takes is a few weeks of being female for me to be comfortable? People take longer to get over ex-girlfriends. But then again, why was adapting a bad thing?

I jostled my chest a little to get it to sit properly in the cups. Before all this the only breasts I had ever touched were Laura Tigley's, my ex-girlfriend, when we were making out. But she was skinny as a rake and hers were breasts in title only. Like many guys I was obsessed with breasts, the bigger the better. And now I had my very own large pair to touch whenever I wanted. However big boobs didn't excite me that much anymore.

"Good morning!"

"You're a whore!"

"Why?" I asked.

"Because it's not even 7 in the morning, and you're calling me," Dot sounded angry, "That's the kind of thing whores do."

"No, I'm pretty sure whores perform sexual acts for money."

"In that case I'll give $5 to go fuck yourself!" Dot snapped.

"Wow, you're really not a morning person!" Truth was, I was well aware of that, I just wanted someone to talk to.

Dot groaned and told me, "Get fucked! Neither are you!"

"That's true but I'm just too excited. You should see my room! There's three beds! Two bedrooms with three beds! And a lounge room with a massive TV and I can see the Harbour Bridge from my window!"

"That's nothing, I can see a massive wasps' nest from my window," Dot dryly said, "which means I have to keep my window closed. But it was so exhaustingly hot here last night!" Dot hated hot weather almost as much as cool weather. In fact, I doubted there was a temperature at all that made Dot comfortable.

"You still in bed?"

"It's 7 in the bloody morning, of course I'm still in bed. I do not get out of bed until the very last second. So today's the day of the big Playboy shoot, huh? Pussy out for the boys!"

"It's Dolly Magazine and you're just jealous because I am a published writer and you're not." This was a touchy subject for Dot. It annoyed her no end that thousands of girls would be reading my articles while she would be writing primarily for herself.

"Yeah, your tits are the next Woodward and Bernstein!" I didn't know who they were but I wasn't going to give Dot the satisfaction of telling her that. "Anyway, good luck for the shoot today. You're going to be great." Dot had become a little more positive since we refriended each other. It was nice to hear those sorts of sentiments coming from her and it was even nicer because I could tell she meant them.

"You think so? I'm a bit worried about it."

"Don't fret, you're a total hottie and you know it. Just go shake what those tiny robots gave you and collect whatever bloated amount you're being paid for it," Dot was being curt with me, probably because I woke her up.

Tyler was, of course, right on time. And knocked loudly as if he thought I would still be in bed. "Shit! Gotta go, that'll be Tyler."

"Mmm… Your manager/publicity guy? He's fuking hot, Gem."

"I know, I know, I know."

"You've gotta jump his bones before you come back! Dot commands it! You must do what Dot says." Dot did her best hypnotist voice.

"Fuck off!" I said and then abruptly became cheery, "And bye-bye!"

"Bye."

"Hello," Tyler said as I swung open the door, "I didn't expect you to be awake, honestly."

"Awake and dressed," I smiled.

"I'm impressed. Let's go." I walked quickly over to the lift. I know I'm still childish, but riding a lift is still exciting for me, mainly because there no lifts in the whole of Marrang, except the hospital. And even when I was kept there I never left the first floor. "Do you always have to wear denim shorts?" Tyler called down the hall to me, "Every time I see a picture of you in a paper or magazine you're always wearing jean shorts. It's like your uniform; denim shorts and a tank top. You're not Daisy Duke, you know?"

I put my hands on my hips and proclaimed, proudly, "I like 'em."

"She likes 'em!" Tyler said to nobody.

I was amazed how few people were at the studio when I showed up. There was the Editor, the photographer and his assistant and a make-up artist. I didn't know who else would be there but it seemed like a small crew for something so large. The photo shoot was starting out at a studio and then moving to an outside locale.

"Gemma! I'm so happy to meet you finally," I recognised the voice. It was my editor Jane Dowlin, we had talked a whole heap on the phone. She talked me through my first column and was quite happy with the results. She didn't look exactly as I pictured her. She spoke with quite a clipped, cultured accent, so I always pictured her in a business suit with big hair. But she seemed to be quietly kookily dressed, in a brightly coloured, high waisted dress and glasses. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra and didn't wear one much anyways; her boobs had a decidedly 'droopy' look to them. It was a great motivator for me to always always wear some support.

"Hi Jane," I said while Jane air-kissed me. It was such a Sydney thing to do, air kissing. I didn't quite know how to respond.

"Now today is all about having fun and letting that delightful personality of yours shine through. So, my main concern today is that you are happy and comfortable and excited. Is there anything I can get you?" I liked the offer to be pampered but I was fairly contented so I told Jane I was fine. "Well, you look fantastic. Even better in person. Now, as I said today is about fun, I don't want you feeling any stress," She gestured towards a weedy man fiddling with a some lighting, "This is Mark, he's going to be your photographer."

He stopped fiddling for a second and shook my hand warmly. "Excited 'bout working with you. This is going to be great fun!" Mark told me.

"Mark is really the best in the business, Gemma. You're going to have a lot of fun together," Jan enthused, "And this is Mark's assistant, Lucy." She gestured to a perky girl not much older than me.

"Hi Gemma," she smiled a huge grin, "Excited?" She obviously was. It seemed like a distant planet, eons ago where I almost was named Lucy, if it wasn't for Mum's suggestion I would be called Lucy. However, this Lucy looked like a real Lucy, skinny with a head full of messy ready hair. I didn't look much like a Lucy.

I also met Andre, my make-up artist who was equally excited to meet me. I had never been in a room with people so enamoured of me. I couldn't tell if they where genuinely thrilled to work with me, they were always like this or they were blowing smoke up my arse. Anyway, the enthusiasm was infectious. Their zest crawled up my body and tickled my cheeks into a smile. Andre took me down to a corner of the studio. He talked incessantly about everything, mainly the outrageous parties that had kept him awake until all hours on the morning today. Now, I off all people know not to judge people on first impressions but it was kinda apparent; Andre was a super flamboyant and most likely gay. I'm not saying that all male make-artists are gay but Andre clearly was. The type of gay that would get you bashed a little bit in a country town like mine.

"They're not going to Photoshop my pictures a whole heap, are they?" I asked Andre. It was a minor concern of mine ever since I was offered the cover. My body wasn't perfect, my legs could be longer, my bum could be bigger and my toes were a little too pudgy. But with a computer and a few spare hours they could have me looking like the next Elle Macpherson. While that was a little tempting, my main focus for my column was about learning to accept yourself, faults and all.

"Let me tell you," whenever Andre started a speech he sounded like a toy car revving up, "They Photoshop everyone. Sometimes I wonder why I do make-up at all! All the girls' imperfections are just blasted away with computers. But Dolly is actually pretty good. They're one of the betters ones. They're all about real girls with real bodies. I'm sure they don't have to muck around much with your pretty face anyway!" He actually pinched my cheek! I guess to emphasise just how cute I was, but it hurt. It was compelling to meet someone so flamboyant, it was like watching a kid in an adult's body, wandering around, pinching people on their cheeks.

"OK, big smile! Just a little more relaxed, Gemma," instructed Mark as he took some of the first pictures. I tried to do as he said, but I ran into a problem.

"How do I relax?" I asked honestly, "I've seriously forgotten how to." It was true, in front of the camera I couldn't remember what people did when they relaxed; did they bend at the knee? What did they do with their hands? My mind went totally blank, so I imitated what I thought natural and relaxed people looked like.

"No, Gemma, relax." Supposedly I was getting it wrong. Mark bent down and threw me a scrap of material. "Pose with this."

It wasn't just any scrap of material: it was a bra. Embarrassingly enough, it was much too small for me but I knew what it really was: A prop. Something to do with my hands, something to make me forget about trying to look 'normal'. I held it up and looked at it quizzically, like the first time I ever put one on. Mark laughed. "That's it!" The camera began to whir louder as Mark got me to pose more and more with the bra. In the musicals at high school I was always a better actor when we had all the props and costumes in comparison to just wearing the school uniforms, pretending to have a gun, standing in the gym. "Get rid of the bra!" Mark told me and I threw it into the air, carefree and laughed. I suddenly remembered how to look natural. I had it! I was modelling!

You know how you see interviews with supermodels saying that it's not a glamorous life and modelling is actually hard? Well that's a total croc! Stand still, smile, wait for camera to go click and then slightly move. That's about it! OK, some of the positions I had to hold weren't the most comfortable but it wasn't like working in a coal mine. Honestly, I wasn't the best model in the world, Mark had to keep reminding me to stand up straight and shoulders back. The first outfit they mad me wear was quite cool actually; red overall shorts and a blue t-shirt. I liked the look of the overalls, although they did make look younger. I was so scared that when I turned up the magazine would suddenly morph into a Lad's magazine and I would have to squeeze into a tiny bikini, like the one I wore in front of the British boys, but if they were hiding that they hadn't revealed it.

What they did bring out instead was much better than a skimpy pair of bathers. It was puppies! For some reason they thought pictures of me in overalls with puppies would be a great idea. "Wow!" was all I could say as they wheeled in the box with the mini doggies inside.

"OK, Gemma," Mark said, professionally, "Now take them out of the box and play with them." I tried to ignore the camera and played with the 4 Labradors puppies in the box. They were, without exception, adorable, each one more adorable than the last. It was as if someone had soaked up all the cuteness in the world and wringed out the sponge on these puppies. They waddled around, running and jumping all around me. I was suddenly a kid again, letting the dogs climb all over me. Mum had never let us have pets for a few reasons:
1. Since we lived so close to the beach and had no back fence, there was nothing to keep the pets from running away.

2. We couldn't keep our rooms clean and Mum figured that was sign enough that Nicole and I weren't responsible enough to keep any sort of animal alive.

3. Mum declared herself allergic to animal hair, although I am yet to see proof of that.

So, playing with puppies and trying not to slouch was my main objective up until lunch. Nice easy way to make a few grand, and to think Lilly will spend a whole year working after school at KFC to make what I made in a morning having my picture taken. And she was just as pretty as me! It hardly seemed fair until I remembered the crippling physical and mental pain I had been through before I got in front of a box of puppies.

"Why puppies?" I asked Jane and I let one curl up in my lap, during our lunch break.

"We just thought it would be a cute idea. When I read your writing there was this unbridled lust for life in your words, a real optimistic attitude. I think puppies are the perfect embodiment of your message," Jane told me this while chewing on a salad wrap, beetroot dripping down her chin, "And, you know, you have a lot in common with puppies; you're cute, inquisitive and new to the world." Well, it seemed like Jane had enough reasons to give me a box of puppies, although that did seem like the type of answer you could make up on the spot.

I rubbed the belly of the bundle of joy on my lap. He playfully swung a paw at me and chewed on my finger. "I so want to keep one," I begged, "but my Mum would chuck a major wobbly if I came home with a dog. She reckons she allergic."

"Best you give the little tacker to me then," said Lucy and she waited for me to hand him over. I just met the puppies and I didn't want to say goodbye, so I showed a little bit of passive resistance.

"I don't wanna!" I mock glowered. Lucy reached down a plucked Loopy (yes, I named it!) from my lap. "Can't we just do the rest of the photos with puppies? It could be my motive?"

"You mean motif," corrected Jane.

"Sure, that word."

But arguing with them was not going to get me more fun time with the dogs. They'd moved on. It seemed unfair to give me puppies and then take them away, surely they should have left that to the end of the day so that I wouldn't be all annoyed about having no dogs for the rest of the day. I was handed to next outfit, I didn't like it as much as the overalls. It was flimsy, it was summery, it was peppy but it was, "A dress?"

"You're going to look great in it!" Jane promised, "We're going down to the beach and you're going to frolic around in the sand." It was a rather typical shoot for this type of mag, frolicking seemed to be a major part of the job. I could do it, I just didn't want to wear the dress. "We have a bikini and a sarong as well," Jane assured me, not realizing that was worse. I was well aware that I was being given a bundle to do not much more than stand around in clothes so I didn't crack the sads and refuse to wear the dress. I would much rather wear a summer dress at the beach for a few hours than a KFC uniform for the rest of the year.

The drive out to the beach took longer than I thought it would. I was used to living in the country where everything was a 10-minute drive or walk away. Sure, we had dramatically less stuff than Sydney did but at least it was all close by. "So how do you enjoy being a model?" Tyler asked me. We were in our car following the magazine people.

"It's a bit dumb. I mean, it's fun and all but it's not that tricky. I'm sure the difference between being a top rated millionaire supermodel and just a regular model all comes down to luck," I said, staring out the window at the blurry human mess that were the streets of Sydney. I was talking about modelling but I was thinking about SGR. I was the second person in the entire country to catch it. But why me? It was a question I had asked myself a lot when it first happened, lying in bed at night cursing the world. But as the days got less and less painful, I had stopped asking 'Why me?'. I had stopped looking at myself as the unluckiest person in the world. And I now sat in a luxury car, driving down the beach where I would be paid a stupid amount of money to have photos taken of me, after which I will be returned to my all expenses paid hotel suite. Somehow it would cheapen the whole experience if I attributed all my success to plain dumb luck, but was the truth. Who knew I would see the painful experience of losing my penis as lucky?

"Bend your elbow a little more. No, not that one, the other one," Mark told me as I posed outside a toilet block. Mark thought it would be a cute I idea to get me to pose like the silhouette of the girl on the sign of the toilet. It was a tad tacky but Mark said my facial expression sold it. Mark seemed to be really good at his job. He allowed me to be goofy, introverted and sarcastic, sides of me I felt were integral but yet rarely seen in a model. He said he was treating the shoot like a celebrity one and not a model shoot, he was trying to get the right situation to capture my personality not try and make me fake a personality fit the situation. He laughed when I came out of the toilet block/changing room in the dress, looking a little pissed off about it all.

I liked being photographed at the beach. It felt a lot like home, they had found a nice secluded area for us to muck around in. I wore a few things, the sundress with sunglasses, a top and shorts, they even convinced me to wear a skirt in front of the camera. "Now, I don't want the pressure you, Gemma. You've been incredible so far. But we do have one more look for you to try." There was a certain hesitation in Jane's voice that told me she was worried.

I hazarded a guess, "It's a swimsuit." She slowly nodded as if any sudden movements would make me attack.

"It's nothing too extreme, Gemma. It's from a company who specializes in early teen swimwear, it would put us in great graces with them if you wore it for us." Jane's voice trembled a little, almost as if she was pleading for mercy.

"Of course I'll wear it! Don't sound so panicked. You're my boss, Jane, not the other way around. Remember that!" I laughed, I felt like a mouse that was scaring an elephant half to death. Lucy came over to me and held up the bikini. To be honest, it wasn't that bad. The top was orange with black trim and seemed rather full in the bust and bottoms were black, with a little orange symbol on one hip. It wasn't that skimpy either so I wouldn't be showing that much cheek. It was nowhere near as scanty as the pink one I had worn in front of the British lads but no one knew about that. "How am I supposed to put it on?" I asked Lucy. As for the other 'costume changes' Lucy had held up a 'modest curtain' (otherwise known as a beach towel) while I quickly changed behind that. But I could wear my underwear so I never felt that exposed.

The plan, disappointedly, had not changed. I still got changed behind the large towel. "No peeking!" I demanded, "Especially you, Tyler!"

"I've already seen it!" he retorted. I'm sure everyone else thought he was joking and that's why they laughed. I laughed to stop me from killing him. I quickly popped on the top, wriggling and squeezing the best I could. The top was a little snug and it did appear that I was smuggling raisins down there but other than that it looked good. I surveyed the beach, I didn't want anyone catching sight of my 'special area' from the front or back. Now, scientists would probably disagree with me but I am fairly certainly I changed the bottoms over faster than the speed of light. My skinny little arms at least broke the speed of sound.

"Ta-da!" I said as if me getting dressed was reason enough for everyone gathered to be amazed.

Being photographed in a bikini made the whole thing feel a little sexier. I knew that Dolly was primarily for girls 12-15 but I knew as a boy I often borrowed my sister's magazine to admire the girls inside. I followed the compulsion to roll around on the sand, in a cartoonish attempt to look sexy. Mark just laughed and continued taking pictures, "You do know that this isn't FHM, don't you?"

I looked over at him from my contorted position. My back was arched and my bosom was high in the air. "So less pouting and more frolicking?" I asked. He nodded. "Do you want to take part in a major part of history?" Marked dutifully nodded again. "OK, train your camera on me!" I told him as if he had been doing something else with his camera the entire day, "I'm about to try my first cartwheel!"

****

The sun was setting as we left the beach. Mark had made me stick around until dusk so that he could get some pictures of me as the sun drooped below the horizon for another day. He showed me the pictures on his camera; now, I'm not quite deserving of a spot on teenage boys' bedroom walls next to Carmen Electra and Rhianna, but it wasn't bad at all. There were some really cute pictures with the dogs.

As we drove home the setting of the beach quickly became an urban setting as the palm trees were replaced with mailboxes and graffiti. "What are we doing for dinner?" asked Tyler as we hurtled down the streets of Sydney.

"Umm… I'm, like, a, like, model now. So, umm… like, a half a stick of celery would be, like, amazing." My Valley girl impression was quite good for someone who had never been to that particular valley.

"You're almost as funny as you think you are," teased Tyler, "What do you feel like? A big fancy meal at a big fancy restaurant, where you can act like a big fancy celebrity?"

"Normally I would agree to that… but I've got such a huge day tomorrow, don't I?"

"Let's me check, kiddo," Tyler flipped open an invisible notebook, "Let's see, in the morning you're climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Then you are going to meet John Draffen at his house in the afternoon. And then in the evening you're the guest at a massive party held in your honour by Dolly. I'd say, yes, your tomorrow is huge."

I yawned, accidentally, a sure sign I was too tired to go out for a big meal. "Do you just want to get room service then?" I leaned over to him and asked.

"Yeah, you can get room service sent up to your room, if you want."

"Wanna join me?"

"Of course. Especially since Dolly Magazine is paying!"

For the record, Gemma Taylor loves room service. It's like having your Mum look after you at home when you're sick, except you don't feel sick and the food is of a much higher standard. Again I experimented with peculiar food; risotto. I know that may be a common food in most people's life but it was a stretch for me. And it was delicious! There was a little smile on my face every time I brought a forkful up to my mouth. I couldn't wait to leave my Mum's lasagne-and-chips clutches and experience a world of food by myself. But as scrumptious as the food was, Tyler looked every bit as tasty. I pictured the buffed body that he was hiding beneath his sharp business attire. Dot was right, he was gorgeous. He even smelt gorgeous. I let me mind linger a little too long on whether or not he tasted nice. My crotch began to tingle.

"Champagne?" Tyler offered me a glass of champagne in a flute. Me, trying to look as sexy and sophisticated took it daintily in my hand. I had never tried champagne before but I guess there no reason not to try it. He looked deep into my eyes and I returned the favour, it would be impossible to read this situation as anything other than romantic. I may be new at being a woman but I knew what that look meant — he wanted to kiss me. I leaned ever so slightly forward, my soft lips parting just a tiny bit. I needed something to do with my lips before I leant in for a full on pash. I brought the champagne flute up to my lips.

"Uh-uh!" Tyler stopped me as the glass neared my lips, "We need a toast first."

I was a little muddled, I was halfway between a drink and a kiss and now he wanted me to make a speech. My body was racing with hormones, travelling to every part of my tiny little body. I think I was unable to say anything at all. Luckily, Tyler stepped in, "To Gemma Taylor, the hottest model to grace the pages of Dolly magazine." He leaned over and clinked my glass. As he did, his hand brushed my unclad leg under the table. As the bubbly drink trickled down my throat, I felt sexy, sophisticated and so very grown up.

"Do you really think I was pretty today?" I finally squeaked out.

Tyler leaned over, again gently brushing my thigh with his hand, proving that the first time wasn't an accident. "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. Gemma," he whispered. I opened my mouth, I'm not sure whether it was to kiss him or to say something or just because my jaw muscles went slack. If it was for anything in particular I'm unaware because Tyler sudden broke the moment.

Shattered the moment would be a more accurate term.

"Oh crap! I really should get going, kiddo." Being called 'kiddo' at that point was more annoying than cute. "I'll drop around tomorrow to take you to the bridge climb, K?" Before I had time to respond he was escaping out the door. "Get ready for your huge day tomorrow!" he instructed as he disappeared into the hallway.

That was quite a weird experience!

I almost had my first kiss with a guy, a guy who was much older than me, a guy my mum had trusted her daughter with while in the city, a guy who would be fired from his job and denounced by the media if he had a relationship with me!

But he is so hot!

CHAPTER 28

Despite my previous night's events I woke up with only one man on my mind — John Draffen. Today was finally the day that Australia's two SGR sufferers were going to meet each other for the first time. It was up there as one of Australia's most historic days, I thought. OK, maybe I am prone to a little bit of hyperbole but it was a big day. It wasn't a stretch to call me worried because I had no idea what he was like. He was a recluse. As far from what Dr. Chisholm and Annette had told me he rarely left the house at all. It's weird to have so much in common with someone you've never met. John Draffen was once Kate, loving mother and wife, and a few short weeks ago I was Michael Taylor, unremarkable teenager.

Draffen wasn't eased into his transformation like I was, it happened in a supermarket aisle with his children looking on in fear as their mummy became a man. He was unconscious for days, the doctors (one of which was Dr. Chisholm) thought Draffen may never come out of the coma. When the papers revealed he had awoken, they said the new man was aggressive and unstable. Like my situation, all cameras were banned from the hospital while he recovered. His husband would come and visit him everyday and sometime bring the kids. Watching the news and reading the newspapers I remember feeling sympathy for Kate, alone in the hospital trying to figure out what had gone on.

Panic spread around the country about 'Pussy/Penis Envy', Australia was now affected and it could happen to anyone one of us. So-called 'experts' were wheeled out in front of cameras to promise us that it would very unlikely happen again soon but to be careful. Feeling the emptiness between my thighs reminded me that it did happen again, to me.

After two months in hospital Kate (now using the name John) Draffen was escorted back to his house. I remember watching it on the news, you couldn't see Draffen for all the press around him. They shepparded him away to a 'secret location' and that was the last time the world saw him. It was a lot like my story but where he got in a car and disappeared, I got on stage and started my very strange relationship with the media. Supposedly, John never leaves his house, according to the papers he lives with a carer ever since his husband left him.

I was looking forward to meeting him. If anyone could fathom how I was feeling it was him and it would be healthy for me to talk with someone about how I really felt. He would know what it's like to be forced to give up the gender you grew up as and to be thrust into an unfamiliar body. In many respects he has gone through the opposite of what I had. John was taller, stronger and bigger than Kate, where I shrunk down.

Meeting him was only one part of my massive day. It was to begin with a climb of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Alana had told me that was the most amazing thing to do while in Sydney. Tyler had promised to take me this morning but after what happened the night before I wouldn't have been surprised if he called me up and cancelled. Personally, I would have been very happy if he had kissed me. Although I am a few years younger than him it is obvious we have a spark-ridden relationship. Now that Aaron was off the market Tyler seemed to be a great candidate for my first kiss. I knew in my heart that we really couldn't be a couple but he just seemed like the perfect guy for my first kiss.

I wasn't sure why Tyler ran away instead of kissing me but I had promised myself I would kiss him before my trip was through. He had created an itch that must be scratched and I knew if I tried hard enough I could get him to scratch it for me. All I wanted was a little kiss, mouth opened, maybe a little tongue. It would be perfect; a gorgeous guy and far away from the prying eyes of my family and friends.

When he arrived at the hotel it appeared like nothing had happened. "Hey kiddo," he smiled as I swung open the door, "Ready to climb one all over one of the world's greatest landmarks?"

"Yup!" I cheered, "Just let me tie my sneakers and we can go!" I bent down and tied my laces. The main reason I did that was because I needed do them up before I left the house. The main reason I tied my shoes in front of Tyler was to give him a view down my shirt, remind him of what he was missing out on. It was clumsy flirting at best but guys don't seem to care when they are face to face with a big pair of juicy knockers, at least that's what I remembered.

My casual flirting continued in the lift. "How did you sleep last night?" I asked as I absentmindedly played with my hair.

"Good, good. You?" Gone was the sensual and lustful Tyler of last night instead jovial and professional Tyler had taken his place. I batted my eyes at him, hoping to see a glimmer of the other Tyler in the intimacy of the lift.

"I couldn't get to sleep for ages," I said in deep breathy tones, trying to channel Marylyn Munroe, "I just lay in bed waiting for something to happen. I was all hot and bothered." Not too subtle, no, but I saw the glimmer in his eyes. Under the veneer of the smooth professional was a man who wanted to tear my clothes off right then and there in the lift. My first kiss was in reach!

The Harbour Bridge was only a short taxi ride away. I was excited to see Tyler slide into the back seat with me instead of sitting up front, perhaps the tight shorts and extra wiggle in my walk helped persuade him. "So, have you ever done the bridge climb before?" I asked him.

"No," he revealed, "And I'm not about to do it now. Terrified of heights."

"So, you're not coming with me?" I whimpered.

"I'll be watching you from the ground. You'll be fine."

"Oh c'mon! Don't be such a sook!"

"I'd do anything for you, Gem." That was good to know! "But sorry, heights absolutely ruin me."

So, I climbed the bridge by myself. Well, not exactly there was still my instructor, a family of British Tourists, and American man, some 20-something Canadians, a busload of Japanese Tourists and three paparazzi. The paps had followed me from the hotel and while 10 or so of them were taking photos of me walking into the Bridge Climb building, a handful were trying to get in the same climb group as me. Luckily they cancelled when they found out that they couldn't bring their cameras with them. I couldn't think of anything worse than being harnessed to some paparazzi for two hours.

"Are you famous?" asked a Canadian girl as the paps were leaving.

"Umm… A little bit," I said as the camera flashed behind me.

"Are you an actress?" she asked me, looking at me with a glimmer of awe in her eyes.

"No, I'm a writer, who dabbles in a tiny bit of modelling," I had no idea why I said that. Sure it was (partly) true but I sounded like a snobby bitch.

"Let me guess the photographers were more interested in your modelling than in your writing?" I smiled and nodded.

I was so glad there were no Aussies in the group to lean over and whisper in her ear why I was so famous. Even the climb instructor was Irish and if he recognised me he didn't let on. It was quite involved the training before the bridge climb; there was paperwork I had to sign, I had to take a breathalyser test, practise climbing stairs and put on some grey jumpsuits. The climb to the top took about an hour, it wasn't very steep or a tough climb. Just a lot of stairs. We were all clipped to each other, I was wedged between one of the Canadian boys and the American businessman who was in his 40s, I guess. I practised my sexy hips sway as I walked in front of him. I knew it was naughty of me but I needed to get good at it if I was to ensnare Tyler.

But the whole journey wasn't about trying to get my butt to stick out the best way, the view was remarkable. The whole city of Sydney was spread out before my eyes, it was almost too much to bear. I saw the Harbour glimmering below me and the city laid out in front of me, it was breathtaking. I felt like a King (I guess Queen is more appropriate) and a tiny ant at the exact same time. The city, once a huge and terrifying/exciting concrete maze now looked like a living creature. I stood on top of a national monument and watched the heart of Sydney beat. From up here my problems and my successes didn't feel so important anymore.

"Wow," sighed my Canadian partner.

'Wow' was correct.

We passed another group on the way down and some people recognised me. "Oh my God! Gemma! Gemma!" some woman shouted. I pulled my best cool celebrity face and waved back. The Canadian girl looked back at me impressed, I just shrugged a what-can-you-do shrug.

"How was that, kiddo?" asked Tyler as I came trundling out the exit. The paps had already surrounded me and were clicking away, I tried to shoo them away as if they were errant mosquitos.

"It's like a religious experience. You really have to go."

"How high is it off the ground?" he asked me.

"Our instructor said it was only 134 meters," I shrugged. It did feel a lot higher than that though but I wasn't going to tell Mr. Vertigo that.

I watched Tyler turn a pale shade of green before answering, "Umm... no thanks."

"Such a fucking sook!" I said punching him on his arm. I had learnt to act natural around the photographers, almost ignoring them. I wonder if it was obvious in the photos that I had a little bit of a crush on Tyler, I hoped not. I didn't want to come back home and have Mum and Nicole tease me because I had developed a schoolgirl crush to go with my schoolgirl body.

"OK," Tyler said, hailing a cab. "Let's go have some lunch with some old friends."

"It's so great to see you, Gemma!" I almost didn't recognise Dr. Chisholm without his white doctor's coat on. I hugged him because I felt it was right thing to do, although I could shake the thought that Frankenstein's Monster wouldn't hug Frankenstein. Without his Doctor costume Dr. Chisholm looked like he could be my grandfather. He looked more feeble, as if his coat gave him super strength.

"Hi Doc."

"Enjoying Sydney?"

"Very much so."

"Hi Gemma," said a very familiar voice.

"Hello Annette," I said, "Wow! It's like a little reunion." I hugged Annette even though I didn't feel I should. I saw Annette fairly recently and we were never on hugging terms anyway. Tyler pulled out my seat at the restuarnt and sat next to me, like he was my boyfriend. We were a fair away outside of the city of Sydney, more in the suburbs. Tyler said that John Draffen's house was somewhere near here and that's why we were meeting up.

"So Annette tells me you've been coping incredibly well," Dr. Chisholm said.

"I don't know if incredible is the right word but I'm doin' OK," I said modestly.

"Don't put yourself down," chimed in Annette unnecessarily, "You have made real progress. Since the change you're a whole new person."

"That was kinda the problem," I joked.

Annette pulled the same frustrated face she always did when I made a joke. I seriously thought made she had broke her sense of humour when she was a kid and the doctor couldn't fix it. "You know what I mean. Before the transformation you were terrified about everything and now you seem confident with who you've become. And it's only been a month. You are quite remarkable, I hope you know that."

Had it only been a month. Sometimes I couldn't even remember what I used to look like. Sure I was a teenage boy with brown hair but the details where tricky to hold onto. What was my nose shape? How far apart were my eyes? Occasionally I would lie in bed and actually be terrified that I would forgot who I used to be completely. If the feeling got too strong I would sit up in bed, grab the locket Dot gave me and look at the picture of me and her. What Annette called 'coping well' I called 'expertly ignoring things'. I always thought I am always one second away from a total freak-out. But if she said I was remarkable than she was probably right. She would know, she's the expert on me.

Annette got more serious, if such a thing was possible, "Now John isn't coping as well as you are, Gemma. SGR affects everyone differently. So if you are expecting a life affirming meeting of the minds you may be disappointed, even traumatised by John."

"Traumatised? Is he dangerous?"

"No, not at all," Dr. Chisholm was quick to diffuse the situation, "It's just he finds life a little full on. After a year he's learnt to accept his position but he is still not a fan of it. It ruined his marriage, it turned his world upside down. He can get a little riled up now and again but he is a gentle soul."

"Is he looking forward to meeting me?" I asked with a little more trepidation in my voice.

"Oh yes," said Annette, "He's a huge fan of you. He's quite proud of your progress too."

"And he knows I'm coming?"

"He's baked you a cake," Dr. Chisholm revealed. It sounded weird that John had baked me a cake until I reminded myself that John used to be Kate.

"Are you guys coming with me?" I asked.

Dr Chisholm thought about the question for a moment. "If you want us to."

I told him that I didn't. "This is something I want to do alone." It was going to be a monumental meeting and even though Dr. Chisholm and Annette think they know more about SGR than me, they didn't. John and Gemma already had a special bond and I didn't want anyone interfering. Annette looked like she wanted to say something but she didn't.

I took a deep breath, "Can I go meet him now?"

Dr. Chisholm drove me there. The car ride there was too long. I think even if it was 2 minutes long it would have been unbearably long. I just wanted to get there. I had waited all my post-SGR life to have someone to talk to and finally it was coming true. "Are you nervous?" asked Dr. Chisholm.

"What makes you say that?" I answered his question with a question.

"You're gripping he arm rest as if this is some kind of whirligig!" I had to take Dr. Chisholm's word for it because I had no idea what a whirligig was.

"I guess, it's a little nerve wracking," I admitted, "How far away are we?"

Dr. Chisholm stopped the car, "Not far at all." He laughed as if he had made one of the greatest jokes in his long life. A blank stare was all he received from me. We were parked out front of a house. A house that had a high brick wall surrounding the premises and one of those gates that are controlled by someone inside the house. The window of the car peeled down and Dr. Chisholm pushed a button.

"Hello?" said the box.

"It's me, Sandra and I've got you know who." I supposed I was 'you know who'. The box said to hold a second and moments after the gates began their slow but steady opening. It was like entering the gates of Jurassic Park, my heart skipped at beat as we slowly rolled through the gates and entered the property. Now there was only a wall or two between us. I wanted to make a joke to prove that I was relaxed and in high spirits but nothing came out of me. I held my breath as we rolled into the driveway and parked. I almost couldn't get out of the car, in fact the good Doctor had to walk all the way around to my side to open my door for me.

I was suddenly concerned with the way I was dressed. I felt I was at Buckingham Palace to meet the Queen and all I have on was a French Maid's outfit and a gimp mask. I had gotten dressed in clothes picked solely on whether or not Tyler would find me alluring in them. Sure, it was my 'uniform' of a tank top and shorts but it seemed a little underdressed. Maybe he would see the flaunting of my very female body as an insult. A kind of a 'Fuck you! Check out my boobs!' kind of thing.

The good Doctor looked at his 'coping well' patient frozen in the passenger's seat in his car. "You can do this," he gently urged me. He was right. I could do it. I swivelled on my bum, swinging my legs out and hopped out of the car. I smiled a smile that hopefully told Dr. Chisholm 'yes I can'.

To call John Draffen's house his home would be a little inaccurate. The word that first came to my mind was fortress. There were at least 2 closed circuit camera on our way to the front door, the brick fence around the property seemed fiercely medieval in it's construction and bars were a regular feature along every window. It looked like Pentridge Prison had a baby. As the clopped along the gravel path following Dr. Chisholm, I couldn't help but wonder if all this was to keep people out or to keep John Draffen in.

"John can an insanely private person," explained Dr. Chisholm, "The transformation really amplified it 10 fold." So, it was there to keep people out, that made me feel a little less scared, but only slightly.

A chubby, mature woman waited for us at the front door. She looked like what Draffen did when he was female. I say that but all 40-year-old mums look the same to me. "Hi," she said warmly as if she was the mum of one of my friends and had just baked us some biscuits, "You must be Gemma." Unless she hadn't seen a newspaper or a TV in the past month she knew exactly who I was but I wasn't going to call her out on that. I wondered who she was. "I'm Sandra, I'm Mr. Draffen's carer."

A carer? Why don't I get a carer? All I get is Annette asking me how much I play with myself and my Mum 'cooking' for me. John gets his own carer? Sandra waddled down the hall. "Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?" As long as I can remember adults were always offering each other tea and coffee. I am pretty sure if all of them said yes to every offer of tea or coffee that supplies would be instantly exhausted in one day. It didn't make any sense to me; I didn't like the taste of either.

"No thank you," I told Sandra.

The house was impeccably clean as if there were a troupe of cleaners polishing and dusting it every minute of the day and they had just taken a 20 second lunch break. I needed to pee but I told my body this was important and that there would be plenty of time to pee later. I hadn't had to hold on very long as a girl yet and wondered if we could hold on as long as boys could. Maybe that could be my first question to John. We passed three bedrooms with signs on the doors, 'Grace' 'George' and 'Kathryn'. I deduced that they must be Draffen's children. I wandered if they were home but I remembered Annette saying that they lived with their father.

"Just through this door," Sandra told me. I nodded slightly and she and Dr. Chisholm walked to another room. I remained frozen for a second unable to move. The thought of just running out the door and scaling the fence leapt in my mind every few milliseconds. I tugged at my shorts wishing I had worn some modest jeans and a less booby top. I willed my hand to knock on the wood panel door but it didn't move. I tried again to no avail. Perhaps I would have to just wait here, stuck to the floor, until John came out to go to the toilet or get something to eat.

"Don't be such a chicken!" I whispered to my hand. My hand doesn't like being challenged so it lifted up and rapped on the door quite loudly. The sound of the knock subsided before I heard a response. Perhaps Sandra had gestured to another room and I was requesting entry into an empty laundry.

"Come in," said a voice that was both deep and meek. I had heard John Draffen speak and in a second I would see what he looks like.

I contemplated pretending I wasn't there before realising that he had already heard me knocking. I stood tall (well, tall-ish), and slid the wood panel door open.

John sat in a chair in what appeared to be and office/lounge room hybrid. I no longer felt underdressed because he wore a white t-shirt covered in stains, grey tracksuit pants and a blue dressing gown. I hoped this wasn't him dressing up for company. Even though he looked quite tall he seemed quite skinny as if eating was never high on his priority list. He had long hair and a beard making him look more like a prisoner of war than a mother of three. His hair was greasy and tangled as if having a cock had made him forget every beauty tip he'd learnt since he was a little girl. There was a quite large bald spot on his head, threatening to take over. John Draffen was unkempt, like an abandoned caravan park overrun with weeds.

He wasn't smiling.

I walked over to him and my crotch had never felt so empty. Each step I took reminded me that between my thighs was only a slight mound where my freshly shaved vagina lived. John looked at me like I was the boy who stole his vagina, and I could help but think that he had my cock between his legs. "Hi John," I squeaked and I outstretched my thin, hairless, girly arm to shake his hand.

"Gemma," he said, flatly, "Please call me Kate." He stood up to welcome me but at the same time intimidated me. He was taller than I had anticipated, casting a shadow over my entire body. I craned my neck up to look him in the eyes. I shook my hand with both of his sweaty hands one resting on top of the other. It was a firm handshake; in fact he squeezed a little too hard.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. It's just that I thought you went by John now."

"I let the Doctor's call me John because they say it's important for me to accept my new gender but everyone else calls me Kate still," Kate looked at my eyes, studied to see if I was friend or foe. I am sure he wanted to hear that I still went by Michael but I wasn't about to lie to him, I was Gemma now and I didn't want anyone calling me by my former name. Because he was waiting for an offer to call me Michael, one that never came, there was an awkward silence between us. He gestured to a chair across from his.

"It's a real pleasure to meet you. I mean, I feel so much less alone now," I told him.

"That's pleasant to hear. I have been watching your progress closely." He opened up a scrapbook that sat on the coffee table between us. There were pages and pages of pictures, articles and stories about me and only me. Mum had one too but there was something a little more menacing about Kate's, maybe it was because Kate's scrapbook was twice as thick. "Sandra cuts out all the your articles for me."

"Oh OK," I squeaked, my voice sounded higher than ever, maybe it was because Kate's was so deep.

Another silence. Whenever I pictured meeting Draffen the room was always filled with chatter. We had so much in common we could finish each other sentences. It was so awkward in here that I had trouble starting my own sentences, let alone finishing anyone else's. I leaned over. "So, how are you coping?" I asked.

"I'm numb to it all now. My life has changed so much that I barely remember the life I miss so much. When I wake up and realise that it's still not all a dream I don't get as depressed as I used to. It's been a year now. A year and three days to be exact. I wouldn't say it hurts any less, I'm just used to it," Kate said glumly.

How was I supposed to react to that? I couldn't say, "Well, my big problem is that a really cute guy wont kiss me even though I know he's attracted to me!" I had no idea what to say so I just nodded my head in a concerned way.

"So, is it a let down, finally meeting the famous recluse Kate Draffen?" Kate almost sounded proud of how much of a let down he was.

"No, not at all," I lied, "Like it or not we share a pretty unique bond. There aren't many of us you know?"

"Yep. We are freaks through and through."

"Have you ever talked to any other SGR suffers before?" I asked.

"Emailed one from Canada when I first got transformed but I found her attitude a little grating after awhile. Isn't it weird how so many people find religion after a tragedy happens? Never understood it myself. If there is a God up there why did he let the tragedy happen in the first place?" Kate lit a cigarette and looked at it for a few seconds. "You don't mind if I smoke do you?"

"Not at all," I lied. The smoke came billowing out of his mouth before the answer had hit his ears, his other hand scratched his scalp.

The room smelt damply stale, as if Kate's tears had flooded the room and no one had cleaned the carpet. The room was also quite messy, books and papers strewn randomly around the floor. "So, you like being a girl?"

I had to choose my answer carefully, I knew that. "It's not the worst thing in the world. It's a lot better than being sick or dead."

"Yeah, I miss it," he said wistfully, "I loved being your age. I used to do ballet. I wasn't very good at it, I was the chubby little girl at the end of the line but I really liked it. And I loved being a mother. It was really the greatest experience of my life."

"Do you still see your children a lot?"

"My ex is nice enough to bring them around on the weekends. But they don't usually stay the night. When I first transformed they would be around a lot but my freak-outs were scaring them too much. It was hard for them to cope with their Mummy becoming a man too. It's such a shame I can't take them anywhere, I just can't leave the house. Plus three kids following me around calling me 'Mummy' would look a bit weird," Kate chuckled a sad laugh.

"They call you Mummy?" I asked. I had never thought about that.

"The two older Georgie and Kathryn still call me Mummy. But Grace, she's 3 now, calls me Man Mummy, which just kills me. She doesn't even register that I am the same person. When she used to stay here at night she used to cry out for her Mum and when I came into the room she cry all the more harder. You tell me something in the world that is worse than that."

I couldn't think of anything. It sounded horrible. Being upset at being called 'Hootie' just sounded trivial now. I knew there were people that were disgusted and scared of my change but they kept their distance, attacking me behind my back or from a safe distance on TV. Kate was describing her own child turning against him. Since I don't have any children I thought what it would be like if my Mum didn't accept me, I don't think I would be alive today.

My eyes watered a bit, "That's so horrible."

"And my own husband couldn't even bring himself to lie in the same bed with me. I remember hugging him and seeing disgust in his eyes. Real disgust. I don't blame him for leaving me at all but it doesn't make it hurt any less."

I had heard the saying 'There is always someone worse off than you' a lot before but I never thought I would find the person they were talking about.

"Do you miss your husband?" It was a stupid question to ask but something inside of me wanted to hear every horrible, tragic story that Kate had to tell. It made me feel better about myself.

Kate stubbed out the cigarette in an overflowing ashtray. It was weird seeing someone smoke inside. While my Mum was a fan of the occasional fag now and again she would always smoke outside. I couldn't remember that last time I had seen someone smoke indoors. "Yeah, I miss him. But it's hard to miss individual things when everything is missing. I miss driving my kids to school, I miss them crawling into bed with us on a Saturday morning, I miss going power-walking with my sister and my friends in the mornings. I miss making love to my husband when the kids finally all fall asleep."

No wonder I was coping much better than Kate, I only missed finding Jessica Alba attractive and being able to run without the fear of knocking myself out with my own boob.

"It sounds like you've had it pretty tough," I empathised.

His eyes glimmered as he pulled up a sleeve on his robe. His wrist was well and truly cut to ribbons as if he wore a watch made out of broken glass. It was obvious to me he had tried to kill himself, a lot. "Pretty tough," he winced.

The haunting sight of his torn up wrist was hidden once again by his robe. "Enough of my whinging. I read that you're writing for Girlfriend magazine."

"It's Dolly actually."

"Oh, that's right," he said gruffly, "Dolly. What will you be writing about?"

"Learning to be a girl. Coping with my new body and all the different social situations I find myself in. Stuff like that. It will echo what a young girl is going through, hopefully."

"Boys?" asked Kate.

"Yes, I am discovering boys at the moment," I confessed, "Do you like girls?"

"Women," Kate clarified, "Yes, I do. It sickens me but I am a little woman-crazy. I found out what it's like to me a man, to have sex on my brain all hours of the day. It's driven me a little batty. Actually to be honest with you, seeing you there in your tight little top and tight little shorts has aroused me no end. I can't help it, its got a mind of its own. But I'm sure that wasn't your intention; to get a honry old man all riled up." I had appreciated Kate's honesty until then but telling me I had given him a boner was a little out of line.

"It's really hot outside," I explained.

"Don’t pay any attention to me. I'm just saying I know this is a serious meeting about a serious thing and yet my penis finds away to get involved. They are quite amazing things. Do you miss yours?"

"Yeah, but the new thing between my legs is keeping me on my toes." Although this wasn't the most desirable area of conversation it was a fair bit lighter than things were earlier.

"Have you had your period yet?"

"Any day now," I told Kate.

"Well, that's one thing I don't miss!"

It's hard to take the conversation anywhere from that point.

"So who do you think is responsible?" Kate asked me.

"Huh?" I blurted out.

"Who do you think hit us with the SGR nanobots?"

Honestly I hadn't thought about it. To me it was just a freak event of nature that did this to me. I kept constantly forgetting that SGR was a completely man-made condition cause by someone who had programmed the robots to change people's genders.

I didn't have time to make up an answer because Kate was already about to launch into a speech. "After all my research and I have done a fair amount of research, I am fairly certain it was an accidentally release by the US military. They have the cure too, Gemma! But because they don't want North Korea and China knowing that they have harnessed the power of nanobots they are refusing to acknowledge any involvement. It shits me to think that I can't get my life back because some moron in the Military doesn't want the world to know they are working on nanotechnology.

"They're not going to give up easily. It's going to take someone very important growing a pussy for the truth to be revealed. So we've got to sit here, in our wrong bodies until the President grows a C-cup! Fucking Americans! If it wasn't for their lust of power then Kate Draffen and Michael Taylor would have never been newsworthy names!" Kate leapt out of his chair mid speech, swinging his arms about wildly. This was something he believed in very strongly and something I had never even thought about.

"Maybe someone else will find a cure," I suggested.

"Not likely, no one is even looking for one! Know why? Because any country with decent enough technology knowledge is too friendly with the US! They're all in cahoots!" Kate stared out through the window, the bars casting striped shadows across with weathered face. "But there hope for us yet, Michael. I believe it going to go out of control. Soon more and more will suffer SGR. And all it will take is someone in the loop and a 'miraculous' cure will be found quick smart and we'll be able to go back to our old genders, maybe even our old bodies. Won't that be amazing?"

Kate's eyes were lit up light a night sky filled with stars and fireworks. However, the eyes were gleaming in a scary manic manner as if he was going to cut off his penis and try to give it to me. He clearly believed all this talk of conspiracies and cures. I wasn't as convinced. It was a man-made problem, of course and errant military technology was probably right. But I doubted it would spread, it had been only 1 or two cases a month for the past two and a half years, and in fact no one in the world had been infected since me.

Perhaps I would become furious like Kate was if I thought about it, but I didn't want to. Blame is something that can take over people's lives. I was a girl now and I determined to live my life as best as I can.

"I said, 'Won't the be amazing?'" repeated Kate, staring at me.

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, "I guess so. But you can't hold your breath for something like that…"

"You think you like being a girl, don't you?" he seemed to be getting angier but instead of pacing more and swinging his arms more he sat down and stared me intensely in the eyes. "You come here, in your tight little clothes, wiggling that little bum of yours and you think you're a real girl. I bet you lie awake at night wishing for a man to come in and root you, don't you? Well, you're just lying to yourself, Michael." He said 'Michael' more scornfully than I had ever heard it said before. "It's a lie. You're a guy in that head of yours. And one day you'll wake up and you will realise that you are trapped in the wrong body. You're a guy trapped inside a girl's body, Michael."

I sat up straight and returned his steely gaze. "My name is Gemma. I used to be Michael, but I'm different now, John."

John's eyes glowed a dark fiery red, "Don't Gemma me. And don't you call me John, you of all people. Look, you can dress a baker in a butcher's uniform and put him in a butcher shop, doesn't make him a butcher."

"No it doesn't," I agreed, "but the baker can learn to be a butcher, instead of just sitting around and complaining about how shitty it is to be dressed up as a butcher."

I stood up, I was didn't want to hear anything else from Kate Draffen. To think that two people could go through the exact same thing and come out the other end as two completely different people scared me. I used to fear I was becoming a 'real girl' too quickly, but seeing the alternative made me proud of every girl thing I had achieved.

Kate sighed. It was heavy sigh, a sigh the made a thud as it hit the floor. "Look, I don't want you to leave here angry. I'm sure you came here looking for some advice and perspective, right?"

"I knew you were having a harder time going through this than I was but I thought you might be a little wiser than me," I confessed, "And then I thought I might be able to help you."

"I'm beyond help, Gemma." His eyes were damp with fresh tears. He sobbed loud as if he had been holding it in all our conversation. I didn't go comfort him. I couldn't. He wouldn't believe anything I had to say. I began the walk to the door. My crotch still felt hauntingly empty.

"Don't forget — You are Michael," were the parting words of Kate Draffen.

I collected Dr. Chisholm and we drove back to the hotel.

I didn't say a thing.

****

Hello, the author here. The next 2 chapters should be up withiin a fortnight.

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story has been absolutely amazing. Thank you so much. There are only a few more chapters left.

Kate Draffen (Chapters 29 + 30)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

Gemma has a very special last night in the big city

CHAPTER 29

"You are Michael."

It was the last thing Kate Draffen had said to me as I was leaving. It was cheap shot, something to get riled up. Or was it? He seemed to believe that the only thing that had changed about him was his body and that might have been true. But I felt myself changing, I wasn't the same person I was 4 short weeks ago. I was more confident, more compassionate and a lot more mature. Those weren't symptoms of SGR, those were due to personal growth. Gemma was more than just a silly girl's name to me, it stood for all I had achieved.

"No, I am Gemma," I muttered under my breath as I marched into my hotel room.

I didn't have any time to worry about the ramblings of a crazy person. There was a decadent party tonight to celebrate Gemma Taylor.

There were no parties for Michael Taylor. And certainly no parties for Kate Draffen.

While not in a blind rage I was blind with a flury of other emotions. I picked up my phone and scrolled down my list of contacts. "Hey," said the voice.

"Hi," I said a little frazzled, happy to reach a friend.

"You've called 1-900 Dot Lovin', Australia's premiere phone line for hot Dot on Dot action. Unfortunately, all Dots are unavailable at this present moment, so leave your name and number and we'll call you back, sexy," Dot's pre-recorded voice told me, "And don't forget to go to our website W-W-W-dot-Dot-dot-com-dot-A-U. So long suckers!" There was a familiar beep and I hung up. I thought about calling someone else to talk to like Glen or Alana but decided against it.

Instead I sat down at the desk in the lounge room. If I had a laptop I would have put it there but I didn't. There was a pad with the hotel's logo atop of each page. Compelled to spill my overflowing thoughts somewhere I started writing. What came out of me ended up being a letter, a letter to Draffen. After a few crumpled efforts lay at my feet, I finally came up with the perfect written version of my thoughts. I wasn't sure how I would give it to him but it was important he read it. I stood up, triumphant.

When we were at the photo shoot Jane had asked if I was planning on wearing any of the nice dresses she had provided to the party. I told her honestly that I wasn't a dress person but I would make sure I looked 'nice' for the party. This party was more about promoting the fact Dolly magazine has me for a columnist than celebrating it. So, I was expected to be there and I was expected to get dressed up. So much so that Andre the make-up artiste was coming around to the hotel to help me achieve perfection.

As exciting a celeb filled party for me was, I couldn't get Kate Draffen's voice out of my head. "He was wrong," I told myself, "I was a guy but I'm not anymore, even if I wanted to be." I hurled open the wardrobe and gazed at the outfits I could wear to the party. "I'll prove you wrong," I told Kate Draffen who obviously couldn't hear me. Not only was I going to wear a dress, I was going to look great in it!

I showered to get the pong of Kate Draffen off me. The bad vibes clung to me body as if they were made of chewing gum. 'How could he call me Michael?' I thought, 'He saw the same body as I did.' It was definitely a girl's body, it went in at the waist and out at the hips, it had smooth, hairless legs and nestled between them was its vagina. I rubbed it gently, not in a sexual way just to reassure myself it was real. I soaped myself up extra thorough, hoping that I could clean the whole experience away. I shampooed my blonde hair, it was getting a little longer. Even though my haircut was never especially 'male' I was glad I was getting into feminine territory, anything to keep those critics silent.

The hotels towels were so soft I seriously considered jamming them all into my bag before I left. It was like drying yourself with a cloud. It felt so nice on my smooth skin. I looked in the mirror. My face was so smooth, it's so amazing that I had totally forgot that I used to shave it everyday. Hairs would spend all day growing out of it and then every morning I would drag a blade over it to cut the hairs, repeat the process everyday. I hadn't even thought about how much life was easier now that I didn't have to do it. Sure my legs and underarms got a bit of a shaving but it wasn't that annoying and it wasn't that often.

I grabbed the pair of panties I had planned on wearing. That's how I know I am a real girl; I wear panties not underpants. They were white with a nice lime green trim and were forged from just nice plain cotton. The main worry about wearing a dress was the risk of people seeing my pretty little underpants, so I had to make sure they were at least nice, and not too slutty. I love how smooth everything was as a girl. There was nothing I had to adjust to get to sit right down there. Any adjusting would be for my pleasure only, and there was no time for that. I was even good enough at putting on a bra that the adjustment was minimal, the girls sat in there quite well.

The dress I had picked seemed the most fun. It sat quietly of the rack with the other dresses, pleading with me to pick it. I almost heard it cheer as I brought it to the bathroom with me, I like the idea that the dress was excited for me to wear it; it made me a lot less scared. It was yellow, bright yellow, with a big black belt to go around my tiny wait. I wanted to encompass the fun, optimism and hopeful spirit Jane, my editor was speaking about. I held the dress in front of me at full arm's length. I was going to look cute in it, there was no getting around it. I slowly fumbled with the zip and stepped into it. I eased it up wiggling my hips and slipped my arms through the arm holes.

I would have to wait for Andre the make-up artiste to get here to zip me up, but I had a good idea of what it would look like; I was going to be cute. More of the 'I want you to tickle me' look than the 'I want to suck your cock' look. The dress was a little short, maybe 2 or 3 centimetres shorter than my school dress and it flared out more. If I spun around too fast people would see my panties, at least they were cute panties. It was a scary thought to know that there was a likelihood that people were going to see my panties tonight and there wasn't much I could do about it, save for trying not to spin around much. I would have to remember to keep my legs as closed as possible.

There was a sharp rap at the door and I ran over to open it. "Hey kiddo!" said Tyler, as jovial as usual, "Wow! You look really…" he paused for a moment, probably running through his mind trying to find the adjective least likely for me to think he is sexually attracted to me. "…sexy!" He failed miserably.

I curtseyed (there's a first time for everything), "Thanks man. Can you zip me up?" He obliged and I imagined him gently sniffing my hair as he did so. As the zip climbed my body the dress was forced to cling to my body tighter, only enhancing what Tyler must have found so sexy. All it was going to take was a few choice moves from me and I would have Tyler kissing me before the night is over. I smoothed out the dress along my body, "So what brings you up to my loft, Mr P?"

"Just wanted to see if you were ok. Dr. Chisholm said that the meeting probably didn't go to plan."

"No, it's fine," I didn't want to talk about that, especially with Tyler, "We just have very different views on what happened to us."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he said sitting down on one of my couches, ready for a serious talk.

"No, but I have something much important I need you to do."

"What's that?" he said.

"Help me put on this necklace," I chirped, breaking the serious mood in the room, "The clasp is too finicky." I liked the word 'finicky', Dot taught me it.

"Come here," he told me and for the second time in my female life I sat on a man's lap, neither of them Santa. This time I knew precisely what I was doing. I wriggled a little bit on his lap, giving him a covert lap-dance. He slowly attached the necklace around my neck, I could feel his warm breath delightfully close. I was doing the best I could to turn him on. "All done," he said once his job was over but I didn't get off him right away. There was something deeply erotic about me sitting obediently on his lap.

"Thanks," I squeaked in a little voice that also seemed to say, "Kiss me, big boy."

"So, ready for a big night?" Tyler asked me as I got off him.

"I guess so. But who is invited?"

"Soap stars, pop stars, anyone who attract media attention and was willing to come. Dolly is in the Gemma Taylor business and they want to make a big deal about you."

"That sounds a little scary. As much as I like attention this might be a little too much. Can you stick around me and make sure I don't get overwhelmed?" My voice sounded so much tinier when I was asking for help. I sounded like a sparrow chirping for food or a door squeaking.

Tyler sweetly nodded, there was more in his eyes than professionalism. I couldn't tell if it was friendship shining through or something more but I was destined to find out before the end of the night. "Thanks," I whispered, the sound of my voice struggling to fly through the air filled with sexual tension.

"Hellllooo?" sang a voice and all the tension went clunking to the floor. Tyler blinked as if the sound had set him free from my spell. He looked at the door.

"That would be Andre, he's here to do my make-up," I explained, wishing that he wasn't so punctual.

"Oh OK. How are you getting to the party?" Tyler asked, "Do you know if Dolly has organized a car or something?" That I did know the answer to.

"Ummm… yeah," I said coyly, "There's a limo coming in like 45 minutes. You can come if you want? Save you driving there yourself." I tried to hide the festering excitement but in hindsight I probably looked totally goofy. The limo was one of the most exciting parts of the trip, I knew it was slightly cliché to arrive at a party in a limo and that limos are more likely to contain 6 high school kids with $30 each rather than celebrities but I was excited because I had never been in one before. I sauntered to the door as Tyler said he would love to join me. I smiled inwardly as I opened the door.

"Hi darling," Andre said, an enormous make-up case in one hand. He kissed me on the cheek and I decided that didn't count as my kiss tonight, I could do a lot better. "You look amazing," he fawned over my dress, "It's so fun and flirty. Did the nice man over there help you pick it out? Hi Tyler."

"Hi Andre," Tyler said, somewhat wearily.

"No," I exclaimed proudly, "I picked it all by myself." I did a twirl.

Andre clapped his hands in appreciation. "Well done! Let's get you in the bathroom and inch you ever so closer to perfection, hon!" He sashayed into my bedroom then bathroom and I followed. Tyler gave me a 'Good luck' kind of shrug and remained seated. Before I had even reached the bathroom Andre had set up shop. His make-up case was organized in military-style efficiency. "Sit," he instructed and I complied. While I wasn't girly enough to care much about make-up, other than a device to make me appear girlier, I had to admire Andre's work.

"It's such a cute dress," he reiterated, "And you wear it so well. Purse your lips for me please, lovey. You're going to have everyone staring at you. And that's not a push-up bra or anything like that is it?" Andre stared into my cleavage as if someone had fallen down there.

"Nope, it's all me," I replied.

"Well, aren't you lucky. Those are a real find, sweetheart, to have a pair so perfectly formed as those. Big, perfectly round and obscenely perky, you could make a fortune off those alone. But your other best feature is your enchanting smile; it's oh so slightly crooked and so damn sweet. It makes you look like a grown-up and very sexy Shirley Temple. All we would have to do is put your hair in ringlets and dress you in a sailor suit." Andre was probably taking things a little too far.

"So, I read in the paper that you're attracted to the boys now?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I admitted, "Boys are kinda interesting to me."

"Me too," said Andre, removing all doubt.

Andre's hands expertly teased my hair into an attractive style. "So, my heterosexual friend, what do you think of your friend Tyler? I find him totally irresistible."

"I haven't noticed," I lied.

"Well, at the photo shoot, he did nothing but notice you. I'd watch him if I was you." Andre had meant it as a warning but I took it as exciting news.

"OK, I will. Are you coming to my party tonight?" I asked Andre as he made the finishing touches.

"Would love to, sweetheart, but I have a previous engagement," he took a step back to admire his handy work, "There you go, perfection achieved!"

"Thanks for your great work!" I smiled, he was really quite good.

"Thank you for being a great canvas! It just goes to show it takes a man to be a really great girl." Andre laughed heartily at his own joke and packed up his case. I couldn't help but notice that his movements were more feminine than mine, and I had practiced in the privacy of my bedroom. I almost asked him for some pointers but at the last second chickened out, maybe he didn't know he was so feminine.

The city buzzed with the excitement of people heading out and the relief of people heading home. The day was limping over the finish line and the night was limbering up for its leg of the race. My yellow dress came crashing out of the hotel lobby doors and onto the street. I laughed merrily as Tyler held open the door of the limo that had come to pick me up.

I know by definition that limos are luxury cars, but it's not until you get inside one that you truly know why. "Wow," I gasped as I clambered inside. It was clearly nicer and classier than Mum's beaten up Toyota, my usual mode of transport. Plus there was a distinct lack of Beach Boy music, another sign of being in Mum's car. I sat in the middle of the seat and surveyed my cabin. I know limos more often than not contained high school kids or newlyweds but I couldn't help but feel like a massive celebrity. Tyler climbed in as well and sat delightfully close to me. I drank in his manly musk and my nipples responded. I liked my nipples getting hard, it felt nice.

"This is the only way to travel," I sighed as Tyler poured me a glass of champagne. I was still only 17, so I probably wasn't allowed to drink at the big party, being underage and all. But that wasn't going to stop me from enjoying myself on the way there. I gulped, rather than simply sipping because I wasn't sure how much time I would be able to drink. I wanted enough to become cheery, chatty Gemma. There was a lot of pressure on me to be charming tonight.

"Whoa! You're a thirsty girl!" exclaimed Tyler. I explained my problem and he said that I probably wouldn't be allowed to drink there. "Too many cameras," he said, "We can't be seen serving a minor alcohol, even if she is a total party animal!" I sucked back another glass of champagne, feeling the bubbles travel up to my head. I could feel Chatty, Flirty Gemma awaken and come to the forefront.

"This is gunna be so much fun!" I chirped, adjusting my dress like a 5-year-old flower girl, "Just promise me you're not going to leave me." I ruffled my hand through his hair.

"I'm not going anywhere. Do you need me to follow you into the toilets?"

"No, I'll be fine in there, thank you very much, Mr. Perry."

Tyler grabbed my hand, telling me, "Stop fiddling with the dress already! You look great! Better than great! You are going to knock every professional model slash actress slash pop star out of the water tonight. I'm not lying when I say that you'll be the most beautiful girl there tonight," he gently cupped my face in his hand, "Don't panic, pretty girl." It was definitely the perfect conditions for a kiss again. It was almost identical to the almost kiss of the night before. I closed my eyes again, waiting for the kiss. Suddenly I felt something — the car came to a stop. Damn it!

"You ready?" asked Tyler as the limo driver came around to the door.

"I guess so," I sighed, still kissless.

Tyler thrust something at me, "Take this."

I looked the object now in my hand. It was a Sharpie felt tip pen. I looked at him with an air of confusion. "Autographs," he explained. The limo door opened up and Tyler stepped out, onto a red carpet! An actual factual red carpet! He held out his hand and helped me out of the car. I swung my legs out and daintily put my feet on the ground. I never felt my life would have a real Cinderella moment and if it did I truly thought I would be Prince Charming and not Cinderella herself. I stepped out of the car, steadied myself on my heels and smiled.

There were lines of fans and supporters down one side of the red carpet and reporters on the other side. I was temporarily blinded by the flashes of a thousand cameras. The way the people cheered I had to make sure there wasn't someone famous behind me. I meekly waved, before the thrill of it all began to seep in. I posed for the cameras. Nicole had taught me some move before I got on the plane. I posed with my back to me and turning and smiling, hands on my hips as if I'm proud of my butt. Then I spun around and tried to make my legs look good. Dolly Magazine had spent a lot of money on me I was just trying to give them their money's worth. I was soon lured away to what I guess would be called my 'fans', although what they have to be fanatical about is another question.

"You look so pretty!" gushed a woman who must be in her mid-twenties and much too old to read Dolly. I thanked her and signed her diary. I shook hands, waved to the crowd and signed my name until my fingers went numb. It was weird having fans and I was unsure exactly what they are fans of. I had to enjoy the immense feeling of being loved by a huge group of people though. The smiles and eyes of everyone in the crowd screamed they loved me. Except maybe the picketers.

It made sense that not everyone loved me. The proclamation that the country's most gender confused teenage girl was writing an advice column for teenage girls was bound to ruffle a few feathers. The ultra religious who thought I was affront to God were right out front, bravely protesting. They weren't great in numbers nor were they impressive. The glumly held up cheap looking banners and made a small amount of noise about me not being natural. If they had their way I would have been burnt at the stake so that there would be no chance of spreading my horrible gender wrecking nanobots to every God-fearing person in the country. I locked eyes with a few of them, mainly to prove that I wasn't Satan, but I was a young, vulnerable teenage girl.

It was weird being on a red carpet, one of the most public places in the world and have the paparazzi keep their distance. Normally they would be as close to me as they could get, falling over each other to be the first to catch a glimpse of Gemma Taylor's new tan line, but thanks to the formality of a red carpet event they were trapped behind the velvet rope. Wearing the dress made me feel a little insecure, if I stepped in the wrong direction the whole crowd would get a view of my pretty undergarments. I kept my legs together and a lot of the time my little hands held the dress anxiously.

I slowly made my way up the carpet, giving high-fives, signing autographs, answering the press's questions and meeting other celebrities. Of course, this party wasn't the biggest in Sydney so the grade of celebrity wasn't the top. No Elle Macpherson and Hugh Jackman, more like Libby from 'Neighbours' and some really cute guy from some manufactured band. Tyler kept his distance but was never too far away. I'd often give him nervous glances and he'd smile back. He was such a great help. I finally made it all the way down the carpet to the entrance. Even though I had only travelled 30 meters or so it had taken me 25 minutes. "Ready for the party?" Tyler leaned in and asked me.

"You mean there's more?" I asked incredulously. I wouldn't have been surprised that through the doors was nothing at all and we'd go home.

"The night is young, kiddo."

We went into the lobby and were escorted to the lift. "Hello Gemma," said one of our lift companions.

"Hi," I squeaked out.

"Pleasure to finally meet you," the woman held out her long elegant hand to shake and I did the same. "Victoria Cross," she introduced herself, "and this," she gestured to a tall, good looking older gentleman that she had dragged along, "Is my partner, Geoffrey."

"Victoria is probably Australia's best evening wear designer," Tyler explained.

"Oh, aren't you sweet!" she exclaimed dryly in her husky voice. Her voice reminded me of expensive cheese and wine. "Don't let Mr. Perry's lies lead you astray, Gemma dear. I do well for myself but I'm not this country's greatest." She waved her hands elegantly around as she talked, like bower branches in the wind.

"I'm sure you're very good, Victoria," I didn't really know if that was the right thing to say.

"Coming from someone looking so beautiful in one of my dresses, that's quite a compliment," she smiled.

There was a slight moment where I didn't know what in the world she was talking about, and then it dawned on me. "You made this?" I gestured to the preppy yellow dress that my curvy little body was packaged in.

"Well, I may have designed it but believe me, you yourself make that dress," Victoria wryly said. The lift finished its journey and dinged proudly to alert us to the fact.

"Thank you so much, Victoria," I liked saying Victoria's name, it made me feel elegant too, "I really love the dress."

"And it loves you," it seemed impossible for Victoria to say something uncool. If smoking wasn't punishable by death in Sydney I'm sure she would walk around making her quips while holding one of those long cigarette holders from the 30's. She would have looked amazing with the swirl of cigarette smoke wrapped around her body. Her voice certainly sounded like she enjoyed the occasional cigarette.

The doors opened but we didn't get out of the lift. "I understand you are making your Debut."

"Yes, I'm doing my Debutante Ball for my Mum because she wasn't able to do hers," I explained.

"How nice of you!" She produced her business card seemingly from thin air, "Look I would absolutely be thrilled to design your Debutante dress, if you would like."

"Thanks," I said taking her card just to make sure it was real, "But I'm wearing a Mum Taylor original."

"Of course you are, dear," she didn't sound hurt in the slightest, "You sound like a terrific daughter. If you need a dress for any other occasion you remember me, OK? It would be my pleasure, pro bono, of course. You have a great night tonight, Gemma darling. It's all yours." Victoria and Geoffrey stepped off the lift into the swirling sea of people.

Tyler and I followed suit leaping into the mass of people. The ballroom was decorated lavishly with tall spires of balloons that reached the roof. The DJ in the corner blasted out some dance music while the beautiful people danced. There were large poster-sized pictures of me around the place. Pictures of me squealing while holding a armful of puppies, doing handstands at the beach, drawing a smiley face in the sand and posing coyly in a sundress. The photos were only taken the day before, so it was weird seeing them hung on walls like works of art. "Dolly Magazine welcome Gemma Taylor" proclaimed the huge banner that took up most of the length of the room. Standing at the exit were cheery hosts, handing out 'goodie bags'. It seemed much too lavish for a girl who was wearing high heels for the second time in her entire life.

Now when a pretty girl walks into a room she gets noticed, that's one thing I've learnt since becoming one. When she is the guest of honour the attention is tripled.

"Welcome Gemma!"

"You look so gorgeous!"

"You're so brave!"

"Even prettier in person!"

"Looking forward to reading your work!"\r

My head was awash with positive comments from positive strangers. I smiled hard, said quiet little thank-yous to everyone and tried to find somewhere to hide. "Gemma!" called out a voice.

I never thought I would be happy to see Annette.

I walked as quickly as I could over to her, the sound of my heels clacking on the floor. It still astounded me I was in a dress and heels, flaunting my shapely legs and my generous boobs. Actually it still astounded me that I had shapely legs and generous boobs at all! The crowd let me through, as if I was Moses and they were the Red Sea. "Hi Annette!" I said more warmly than usual.

She was looking a little more glamorous than usual, she wore a black pencil skirt and a pale red blouse, her mousy brown hair dripping down the back of her head. She wasn't even wearing her glasses, perhaps she had contacts in. "Good to see you," Annette said.

"You too," I said honestly.

"How was your little meeting today?" she said it quietly as if revealing Gemma Taylor had met John Draffen would make the entire party stop so that everyone could hear.

"He's scary," I told Annette, getting a little worked up at the thought of it, "He isn't right."

"I warned you that meeting him might be a little traumatising," Annette furrowed her brow, as if she was upset that she let me go in the first place.

"He kept calling me Michael, I told him to stop but he wouldn't," I was upsetting myself just talking about it. It wasn't as if he touched me, he was just calling me a hurtful name, my old one.

"John knew not to do that. I told him that you were coping really well, Gemma. He was just trying to get under your skin. He's probably jealous of your success." I had heard the 'bullies call you names because they are jealous of you' excuse a lot in my life and never quite believed it. Bullies never had anything thing to envy with Michael but I sort of believed it about John, he wanted exactly what I had, either my body or my acceptance of my body. "See, Gemma, he's lost so much and with his attitude he's bound to lose a lot more. He sees you actually enjoying yourself and wonders what is wrong with you, when he should be wondering what is wrong with him."

Members of the crowd would look at me in awe, 'There she is' they thought, but they would never invade on my private conversations, which was good as I had some important business with Annette. "Why doesn't he have a sex change operation? Or take hormones or something if he hates being a guy so much?" When I first changed Annette floated these ideas to me, but I couldn't fool myself that the process would make me feel any better. Annette showed me pictures of the procedures they would have to do, scooping out my breasts and turning my labia into a scrotum, I wouldn't be able to be Michael as I knew him. I decided to try being Gemma first. John however was clearly not happy being John.

"John thinks if he takes hormones then when a cure is found it wont work on him. It's just more of his elaborate conspiracy theories he likes making up. I hope he didn't get your hopes up of a cure, we've been through this." One thing Annette had said a lot during our first meeting was there was little chance a miraculous cure would emerge, it didn't make me happy at the time but at least my heart wasn't set on being Michael again.

"He's not going to be OK, is he? I saw all the cuts on his arms." The thought that life was so bad that I needed a way out had only crossed my mind for the briefest of moments, but it seemed such a selfish thing to do.

Annette put her hand on my shoulder. The fact that my 'gender advisor' was so less 'womanly' than me always made me laugh, her breasts were the size of two conveniently placed mosquito bites. "It's hard to say. I think he's been very strong to last this long. He has his good and bad days. But you, Gemma, are truly remarkable." I liked hearing that.

I clumsily fished something out of my bra, without pockets it was the only place I could put it. It was the letter I had written John when I first returned to the hotel room. "Could you give this to him?" I asked, handing Annette the warm piece of paper. She took in her hand and eyed it.

"Of course," she said as she carefully slipped in into her handbag. I hoped that she would give it to him, I knew that she would consider it.

A glass floated in front of my eyes. "Orange juice?" Tyler offered. I took the glass from him and smiled. "How are you Annette?" Tyler was always a gentleman. Annette and Tyler struck up a conversation while I whetted my whistle. I opened my mouth and took a swig of O.J. After the juice and pulp trickled down my throat there remained a distinct aftertaste, vodka. Tyler winked at me while still talking to Annette and I winked back. Nothing wrong with an underage girl drinking orange juice!

My Editor Jane picked me up and introduced me to all the movers and shakers. I tried to be charming (which was bolstered by Tyler and his 'orange juices') and I answered their questions dutifully. I smiled at the women and flirted harmlessly with the men. I didn't even call them out when I caught them peeking down my dress at my tanned cleavage.

"You're doing great, just great!" praised Jane as she whisked me around, showing me off like a party trick she had just learnt, "Everyone simply loves you! And I'm so glad you wore the Victoria Cross dress too, you look simply stunning in it!"

"You don't think it's a little too revealing?" After 50 guys in a row had openly gawked at my chest there was certainly a growing argument for 'too revealing'.

"Not at all, you look like a beautiful young woman with big things in front of you." I don't think she noticed the second meaning of that statement. "Have you had enough meet and greets yet?"

"I am a little tuckered out," I admitted.

"Well, then go and have fun! Have a dance! Enjoy the rest of the night, feel free to go home whenever you want, you've worked hard enough tonight. Gemma Taylor coming to Dolly Magazine is going to be our best issue ever, I can feel it," Jane's eyes lit up, although I'm sure some of the glimmering was due to some dollar signs.

Jane waved to someone entity across the room and floated across. And I was alone, through all the people I met and the conversations I had I couldn't remember the last time I had seen Tyler, it was all a glamour styled blur. Considering the orange juice glass I was holding was completely empty I was sure it was a while ago. I suddenly felt like a kid whose father had promised to hold the bike while they rode it, only to find out that their father, in an effort to teach them how to ride, had let go ages ago. I suddenly felt nervous, wobbly on my heels and terrified I was going to fall. I decided that if Tyler was nowhere to be found I would go to the toilet to hide for a little bit instead.

Gorgeous women all stood in the bathroom, daintily re-applying make-up and talking to each other as I entered. They all smiled at me as I meekly dashed into a stall, my heels clopping along like I was a Clydesdale. I lifted up my dress and scooted down my panties to around my knees. As soon as my bottom touched the seat a jet of nervous wee came out of me. I had been drinking fairly consistently all night so the stream was long and strong. I was scared that the other girls in there were listening to me wee, straining to hear whether I did it differently to 'real girls', but they probably weren't. Everyone I had met so far tonight had been delightful. I wiped myself clean and wriggled back into my panties. I tripled checked to make sure my dress wasn't tucked into my undies anywhere and then flushed. I took a deep breath and unlocked the lock on the stall.

The gorgeous women continued with their business, none were out to accuse me of urinating wrong. I went to the sink and stood shoulder to shoulder with someone I recognised. "Hi," she said, she seemed to know who I was too.

"Hi," I replied, "Thanks for coming to my party."

"Well, I read a lot about you and thought you were very brave," she smiled the smile she became famous for. She seemed a little taller than I expected her to be but maybe that was because even in heels I didn't come close to my old height.

"Wow," I said in shock, "Thanks." She dried her hands. I was truly star-struck by my bathroom companion.

"I'll be looking forward to your column, Gemma. It's a pleasure to meet you," I shook her majestic hand, even though my fingers were sopping wet, I hoped she didn't care. She smiled sweetly and walked out the door. I had just washed my hands beside Elle Macpherson!!!!

"Elle Macpherson!" I repeated the story to Tyler. "I mean one of the world's most famous supermodels not only knows who I am but is looking forward to my work!"

"That's awesome, Gem. Any chance she's still around? I'd love to be following her instead of you!" I punched him playfully in the arm. "Ouch! That… didn't hurt one bit! You're a weakling, Taylor!"

"It hurt, you're just too scared to admit that a girl hurt you!" I grew up in a house with Nicole and my Mum, I knew how to tease.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure my arm is shattered in at least 5 places," Tyler pretended to nurse his arm. The problem with Tyler was when he was sexy he was sexy and when he was being annoying he was even sexier. He sounded a little drunk too, he probably sunk back a few while I was off hobnobbing it with the city's biggest and brightest. The 'orange juices' he brought me had made me a little bit tipsy myself.

I leaned into Tyler pressing my body against his, grabbed his hands and whispered, "Wanna dance?" as if I was asking him to fuck me in the toilets.

"Let's do it," he answered, no promising him to show him my tits if he danced with me was needed. I gripped his hand securely and pulled him in the direction of the dancing. Being such a 'too cool for school' teen the pop music blaring from the speakers wasn't well known to me, the more popular a thing is the more Dot, Glen and I ignored it, but it had a beat and it felt great to shake about to. I'm sure Lilly or Alana would know the song.

Tyler was, of course, a great dancer — free spirited and fun. I loved dancing in this body of mine, it felt so right. As Michael, I always felt awkward and as if I was missing a big part of how to do it. But now I got it, I rolled my hips about and enjoyed the bouncing sensation from my chest. Dancing on heels wasn't as hard as I thought, that is as long I kept both feet on the ground at all times. I gently pressed my back up against Tyler's masculine front and sensuously slid down him. That was a dangerous move for a few reasons:

1) I was a little unstable due to the high heels and the slightly less than copious amounts of 'special' orange juices I had consumed. I wasn't drunk, but I wasn't far off.
2) I was Dolly Magazine's golden girl and probably shouldn't be seen dirty dancing with a man a few years my elder.
3) There was a risk as I slid down him that my dress would come up exposing my little panties to everyone.

From the face Tyler was pulling when I stood back up and turned around, the risks were well worth taking. "Where did a sweet girl like you learn dance moves like this?" Tyler jokingly whispered.

"I think they came with the body," I shrugged and went back to only slightly sexualised dancing. I say 'only sightly sexualised' because there is an unmistakable sexual energy to all dances and even though we were only joking around, having fun on the dance floor there was the relentless tug of sexual attraction between us.

The night, as all nights have a tendency of doing, went on. The crowd began to thin and I was called upon to say good bye to the people I had met only a few hours before; friendly people who work for the magazine, pretty young female celebs and their phenomenally hunky male counterparts, people in charge of society pages in the newspapers (Tyler seemed to know them well.) and TV and radio people who told me that they wanted to make me a star. Elle Macpherson had supposedly left earlier without saying good-bye to me.

I yawned and the power of the yawn gave Tyler the magical ability to make decisions for me. "She's ready to call it a night," he decided. I thanked the right people for a fantastic night and smiled the way I should. I followed Tyler weaving through the crowd, people waved goodbye and told me that they were looking forward to seeing the issue of the magazine. Everyone had a business card they wanted me to have and all talked about chatting about my big plans to the future.

"Good night dear," said Victoria and she kissed me on both cheeks. It all was a whirl, of nodding, smiling and dreaming of the celebrity they wanted me to be.

It was hard to think that I could possibly be a bigger celebrity when I got to the Lobby exit, while the fans were long gone, spinning into the night with stories and photos of the famous people who whirled down the red carpet, a phalanx of photographers waited for me. CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! Gemma! CLICK! "Did you have a fun CLICK! night?" CLICK!

"I did," I smiled, as I stepped into my limo, Tyler's coat draped over my slender shoulders. The limo driver gently pulled out, taking Cinderella away from the ball, both shoes on her feet, killing her. Not exactly how the fairytale went but at least Prince Charming was in the carriage with her.

"That was a lot of fun. I don't want to go home tomorrow. Can't I just live here with you?" I said, as Sydney rolled past my window. I was foolish to let a moment go while here in Sydney, they were all special to me and I had let them all slip through my fingers. I had only a precious few of them left and I wasn't going to let any of them go. You can only come to Sydney for the first time once, and the next time might not be as magical.

Tyler brushed his fingers through my hair and I sighed contentedly. "How about you can live in my apartment and I move to Marrang and live with your Mum?" he joked.

"She'd love that. She bloody loves you!" I explained.

"Your Mum isn't so bad herself!" Tyler said. This conversation wasn't going in the right direction, he was meant to want to kiss me, not Mum! I shimmied a little closer to him and sleepily let my head rest on his shoulder. The limo pulled up and the driver opened the door. This is where we would part, Tyler would go back to his place and I would go up to bed, unkissed. I lingered out front of the lobby, waiting for something to happen.

"Well, this is goodbye then?" Tyler seemed as unsure as I did about our imminent parting.

"I guess so," I pouted and looked at my feet.

"Yeah, I guess I'll drive home and have a sleep. Lots of offers for you to sort out, you little superstar." His jacket sat on my shoulders, making me look even smaller than I already am. He reached over my shoulders and took his jacket back.

"Tyler…" I helplessly protested.

"Look, don't get all sad on me, kiddo. I loved showing you around and next time you're up I can show you even more. And when you turn 18, even more."

I giggled but that dislodged a few tears, they came trickling down my perfectly made-up cheek.

"When are you 18?" he asked.

"January 3rd," I huffed, I wouldn't be an 'adult' for almost a year, "I'm still a baby!"

"Don't be like that, kiddo! You're the most amazing person I've ever met, you're so strong and brave and adorable. I've never seen one person charm an entire room like you did before. You had everyone in the palm of your hand. And it's not just because of your history or because you're breathtakingly beautiful, it's of because of your big heart."

"That's so nice of you to say, Tyler. You've been so great to me the entire trip," I sniffled, "I'm going to miss you so m…." The moment was so much more about not trying to cry in my tired, emotional and slightly drunk state of mind and not about a kiss anymore.

"Hey cheer up, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm driving you to the airport, aren't I? That's going to be fun!" I laughed a little at his lame attempt at cheering me up. The night wind made me shiver and I saw a look in Tyler's eyes. He was wondering whether to give me his jacket again so we could talk more or if he should just leave.

"I'll see you tomorrow, OK?" Tyler had made his decision. He wasn't going to kiss his little princess, dressed in her gorgeous little yellow dress.

CHAPTER 30

I sulked around my room, too depressed to look at my amazing view or eat anything from my amazing fruit basket. I missed Tyler, I missed home and I missed my opportunity for a kiss. There was no way he was going to kiss me at the airport, that's the place for last kisses, not first kisses. The night of the big ball is when usually the princess received her precious first kiss. I was a little annoyed that my inner-monologue kept referring to myself as a little princess but even more annoyed that the little princess didn't get her kiss.

With the failure of my rather successful night fresh in my mind, I kicked off my heels in whatever direction they felt like flying in and nursed my painful feet. There was an open bottle of champagne lying around so I helped myself to a glass, a pity glass. I sat, dressed like an angel, totally alone. I wanted to call Dot or Alana or Glen but it was way too late to be calling anyone to commiserate. Instead I gulped a heaping great mouthful of flat champagne.

'What am I doing?' I thought, 'I'm in a palace, dressed liked a princess, yearning for my Prince to come and rescue me.' I was so much girlier than I first thought. Maybe Kate Draffen was right, maybe playing as Gemma was all an act to make me think that I was ok with this. 'I am wearing a dress for Christ's sake! A dress that accentuates my tiny waist and big boobs!' I thought, 'This must all be an act! You're are just trying to stop yourself from going crazy!' I felt the dress constricting me, tightening on my tiny body. For the first time in awhile I wanted my old body back!

That scary thought was shaken from my body when I heard a sound. A distinct sound. There was a gentle but persistent knock coming from the door. "Gem, it's Tyler," the knocker revealed himself in a loud whisper. I bounded to my feet and pure glee itself carried me to the front door. I quickly straightened up, fixed my dress and cracked the door open. It was Tyler, as charming and good looking as when I left him 10 minutes ago. My Prince had climbed the tower to rescue me. And to save me all he needed to do is give his Princess her first true love's kiss.

"Are my keys on the kitchen bench?" the Prince asked, like a total dickhead.

"Umm…," I said, my 'umm' filled with total dejection, "Come in and have a look." I opened the door fully and let him inside, making sure to close it behind him.

He looked at the bench, "Nope," he said and he pottered off to look for them somewhere else, I followed closely behind. We walked to the couches where he had sat while I got my make-up on earlier in the day. He flipped up the cushions and ran his hand in between then. "Fuck!"

"No luck?" It was obvious; nobody says 'Fuck!' when they find what they are looking for. Unless maybe a rattle snake.

"I must have dropped them at the party. I can remember having them there. That's annoying," he slumped, defeated, onto the couch. I couldn't help but feel that perhaps where Tyler was unlucky I was lucky.

"What are you going to do?" I asked him, with concern in my voice.

"Guess I'll take a taxi back home," he lamented.

"How will you get in?"

"Oh yeah! My flat keys! Damn it!"

Now was my chance! I looked at him, his sexy 5 o'clock shadow starting to set in. "You more than welcome to stay here," I purred, leaning towards him, "I have three beds and I only have one body." I seriously hoped he noticed my body.

He put his hands in his hair and sighed, "Gemma, I can't."

"Why not?" I asked honestly, "You've had too much to drink so even if you do find your keys you shouldn't be driving anyway. Plus it's not like you have to share a bed with me or even a room. Come on, we'll open that last bottle of champagne, have a chat and then a massive sleep in."

As my words rolled over the top of him, swirling into his ears like water down a plug hole, his cat-like smile grew bigger and bigger "You do make a very persuasive argument, Gemma Taylor."

The kiss was back in the picture! "It's that or you sleep in the streets," I cheerfully explained. Tyler laughed as he grabbed the bottle of room temperature champagne I was given and popped the cork, it flew across the room, attacking the wall above the massive flat-screen TV that reminded me of the one at home. I took the glass he offered me and began to sip it. "I've drank enough of this stuff that I actually kinda like it," I giggled.

"We should make a toast, Gemma," Tyler said, his slur showing through. He too was a little drunk, "Ummm… to wishes coming true!" He clinked my glass sweetly. I looked into his eyes, they were a painfully sexy shade of blue. I nodded at his sweet sentiments and sipped some more.

I ran my hand through my hair, knowing that doing it made me look both sexy and vulnerable. "So many of my dreams have already came true on this trip. There's just an impossible one left."

"Impossible? Not possible! Dreams are never impossible, kiddo, some are just more tricky than others," Tyler poured himself another glass, "And if anyone is going to get a happily ever after it's going to be you, Gem. So, what is this impossible dream?"

"It's silly," I admitted.

"Come on, tell me please," cajoled Tyler.

I swallowed hard and looked at the handsome man I was sharing this moment/couch/room with. I would have never had thought that I would find a man so irresistibly alluring. His manly musk blew across on a breeze and caught my nostrils. I was inches away from my dream but couldn't even tell if it was possible. If it was possible, it would be the perfect way to end a perfect night, if it wasn't the whole night would embarrassingly crumble apart. The city lights blinked in the distance and reminded me that you're only ever in Sydney for the first time once.

"I wished that you would kiss me," I said, my breaths becoming short and embarrassed.

His eyes looked surprised but he said nothing. I felt small and stupid, I had ruined a beautiful moment with a good friend. I was totally humiliated, but at least my first trip to The Big City was almost over. Tyler sat up, he was probably going to excuse himself and go to his room. He smiled the slightest of smiles and moved in. Closer and closer into my personal space. He was going to kiss me! He closed his eyes and parted his lips and brought them close to mine. My heart took off, thumping faster then it was ever meant to.

"I am Gemma!" my mind screamed as his lips gently touched mine, our mouths slightly open. The kiss was incredible, his tongue darting in my mouth just for a second, it was quick, deep and delightful. I had never felt more alive, more remarkable, more feminine in my entire life! A man was kissing me and I liked it, a lot! Our lips almost parted but he pressed them together for a brief moment, a second mini-kiss that spoke worlds about the first. I was now a woman and didn't care who knew it. I sighed a little pleasantly, a little bit disgruntled as the kiss ended. I waited a moment, letting all the thoughts in my head settle down before I opened my eyes. This was so more amazing than my first kiss as a guy, who knew that kissing felt so different?

"You made my wish come true," I whispered, still panting heavily.

"That's because you deserve everything you could ever wish for, Princess." I melted when he called me princess. I was never a big one for cutesy nicknames but I never wanted him to call me anything but Princess again.

"I wish you'd kiss me some more," I smiled. I had told myself that I only needed one kiss to make this a perfect night but it wasn't true, I needed all the kisses I could cram into one night.

"Gemma…" he had dropped 'princess' rather quickly, "I'm nine years older than you. You're not even 18 yet. Believe me I want to kiss you again. And again. And again. But there is a thousand reasons why I shouldn't."

"Hmmm," I sighed as I slowly invaded his personal space, "A thousand? I can't think of one."

"Well, looking at you now, I can't seem to recall one either." He kissed me again, rougher this time. This kiss had the intention of a million kisses to follow and I was going to enjoy every single one. His arms wrapped around me and massaged my supple back. I moaned in pure ecstasy. I hardened and dampened in the usual spots and breathed deep. If only John Draffen could see me now.

There was passion in every kiss, every kiss felt like a first kiss. The first kiss where his hand touched my back, the first kiss where my tongue played with his, the first kiss where he moaned, it was a torrent of firsts. We both moved from a sitting position to a lying one, his manly body on top of mine. He was gentle and firm and knew what he was doing, I was passionate and scared and couldn't get enough. My moans belied how much I was enjoying it but yet how terrified I was too. His hand came up to my boob and gently massaged it through my dress and I almost exploded in pleasure. I couldn't believe I ever wanted to cut them off, they felt mind-blowing! My hands caressed his body, enjoying the tour of his broad masculine shoulders, his rippling abs and oh so handsome face. His 5 o'clock shadow scratched my soft skin a little but I didn't mind. I loved being the girl! I wondered how I was a guy for so long.

Our lips continued to stay locked together is a passionate game. Our tongues rolling around like crates on a rocking ship. He tasted so sweet that I wasn't sure I could separate my lips from his even if I wanted to. A wandering hand explored under my dress and cupped my pert, round, buttocks. I did not stop his rummaging under my dress, in fact I made a noise that suggested that I loved his hand exactly where it was. He understood and went under my panties to grab a handful of my delicate flesh.

I felt a bulge pressing against one of my legs, I knew what it was, I once had a bulge like that myself. It seemed like a lifetime ago. All I had now was a void between my thighs; an aching void that had never felt so empty. Tyler's hand found its way from my bum down to my aching void. I gasped slightly as he traced a solitary finger around my moist pussy lips. It felt amazing when I did it myself but a foreign digit made it feel like paradise was between my legs. As our tongues tangled together in a passionate mess, Tyler gently inserted a finger into my moist pussy. It was all going so fast, and yet not fast enough. I wriggled my hips in delight and then something unexpected happened.

He stopped.

He stopped kissing me, he stopping kneaded my boob and he removed his finger from me.

"Tyler," I said, to reassure him that I was enjoying it all.

"I can't," he responded, "You are just too special."

"But I want you to." It was true, I wanted Tyler to enjoy my body.

"Look Gem, you're just drunk on champagne, drunk on the big city, drunk on being a celebrity. If we did follow through you would regret it one day and I would regret taking your special moment away from you," Tyler sat up, getting off me.

"You think I'm stupid, don't you?" I started to get all upset.

"God no, believe me if you were two years older I would be more than happy to be your boyfriend, but there's a big difference between a 17 year old girl and 19 year old woman. There's a lot of growing up in those years." The way he looked at me I felt 7, not 17.

"It's not illegal, I'm giving you consent," definitely not the sexiest thing to say but I thought it might get him in the mood. Nothing like being assured that you are not about to commit statutory rape to get you horny. The bulge in his pants had not yet gone down. I moved in for a kiss. He let me kiss him but he didn't kiss back. It just wasn't as fun by myself.

"Gemma, you are far too special for me to do this to you. Good night," he stood up and went towards his bedroom. He looked back at me, his hair all messed up from our exertions. "I'll see you in the morning, OK kiddo?"

"OK," I pouted. I was used to getting my way these days and Tyler was trying to tell me I was getting my way, but it didn't feel like it. My special area screamed out for his touch and I was old enough and woman enough to know when it was the right time. I wasn't even that drunk, I walked all the way to my en suite without so much as a stumble. I crumbled and sat on the toilet lid, sobbing like a spoilt child. There was something scary about my unfed lust, something that frightened me a little bit. I felt so foolish, acting so flirty and mature and then pretty much flat out begging him for sex. I felt like a prostitute and a little kid at the same time.

Worst of all he turned me down! I let my dress slip off my shoulders and into a messy yellow puddle around my feet. My incredibly sexy body was reflected back at me. He turned this down! I knew the truth - I was a little sexpot! A body designed for living out people's fantasies and I owned it. I slid out of my damp panties and stared at what Tyler should have been looking at now. His loss, if he didn't want me I was sure I could find a man or boy who would appreciate, no, worship my body.

I threw myself onto my bed, lying on top of the sheets and doona. I rubbed my inner thighs with contempt, moving onto my warm, wet pussy. My sex musk filled the room. I kept reminding myself that Tyler was missing out and I hoped he knew it too. I moaned, hopefully loud enough so that he could hear. I really didn't like being told 'no' and especially to an offer as divine as was offered to him. The fingering was making me feel all hot and bothered but ultimately unfulfilled. I sat up, charged with a new mission and I strolled to Tyler's room.

On reflection I wasn't quite sure what my plan was, all I knew was that I was semi-naked and that I wouldn't take 'no' for an answer anymore. Tyler laid on the bed, shirtless with the covers off, his manly chest glowing with sweat. His business suits had hidden a body that he must have worked hard on, he was all rippling and chiselled. He was even better looking than I had imagined. Tyler peacefully slept although another part of his body was far from sleepy. There was a telltale tent pole holding up his boxer shorts.

I wasn't sure on what to do next. My flimsy plan pretty much counted on him being awake, It is very hard to seduce an man who is asleep, especially for an amateur seductress like me. Gingerly and very carefully I sat down beside him. His erection enthralled me, what used to be routine, even mundane to me, was driving me into an orgasmic bout of pure lust. Sure, my penis had been erect hundreds of times before, but this was someone else's and I knew exactly where in wanted to go: inside me!

In my quest to be as typically female as I could be I often had leafed through women's magazines, like Cosmo and other mags geared toward girls in their late teens and twenties. Their covers often promised '101 Fantastic Sex Tips' and '45 Ways To Please Your Man'. I had read them diligently wondering if I would ever need to know the tips. One such tip popped into my mind. The magazine said, 'Wake your man up with a steamy head job, it will the best wake up call he'll ever get!'

I must have sat on the bed not moving for 5 minutes, letting the nerves build up in my tummy. It was something I desperately wanted to do but it was terribly scary at the same time, like bungee jumping. I knew if I just bit the bullet I would enjoy it. I couldn't sit here all night, erections don't last that long and Tyler would probably find it weird if he woke up to see my mouth wrapped around his flaccid penis. With a mounting dose of trepidation my fingers inched their way to the button on his boxer shorts. I needed that button undone if I was going to give him a special wake up call. Luckily the button wasn't at the head of his penis, it was being pulled tight on the underside of it. The button was only really half done up, so a simple flick sent the silk fluttering down, reveal his manly shaft. It was bigger and thicker than the last one I handled belonging to Terry the British Backpacker but it was still a little smaller than mine used to be. But that didn't comfort me any more, it was still huge compared to my mouth.

My tongue danced over my lips nervously, moistening them of their big job. I wasn't sure how much longer his erection would last without my oral help, so I knew if I was going to go through with it, it would had to be soon. 'What would my Mum think?' was a thought that flashed through my mind. Knowing my Mum she would want to do the same thing to him herself. And so would Nicole and Dot and probably any other girl who would be interested in beautiful blue eyes and a tremendous body. I owed it to girls everywhere to suck this beautiful cock.

I started slow, just the tip of my tongue touching the head of his cock. It tasted tangy but not horrible, I got on my knees and kneeled over him, lowering my mouth ever further. I was sucking on a cock! I had bandied the term 'cocksucker' around as an insult in my younger days and now I was one. A bona-fide cocksucker. My lips wrapped around the shaft and I quietly went to work, building up a slow but definite rhythm. To be honest, I felt great. I felt sexy and powerful and subservient at the same time. I was pleasuring a man who wasn't even awake. I looked up at Tyler's face — his eyes were open!

He said, "Hey,"

Not as in an angry "Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Or "Hey! Get off my penis!"

Nor was it a lecherous "Hey baby, you like what Daddy's got?"

It was a warm, friendly "Hey," like "Hey, I really missed you," or a "Hey, how are you doing?"

I took my mouth off of him and whispered nervously, "Do you want me to stop?" I felt like an adult had caught me doing something naughty. There was a heavy pause where I had no clue what Tyler was thinking.

"I'm trying my best to say yes but the truth is no, I don't want you to stop." We shared a nervous laugh between us and I slowly lowered my head. I looked him in the eyes as I did it, searching for approval like an eager to please puppy. He smiled and nodded peacefully. I decided I could go deeper and faster, I doubled my effort, bobbing up and down faster and more intense.

My mind flicked through the pages of the magazines to try and remember some other tricks. I wanted to be good for Tyler, I wanted tonight to be very memorable. One had suggested sucking on an ice cube while I go down on him, but I didn't want to leave to get some ice. Another article said to gently nibble the foreskin but Tyler was circumcised so that was out too. I guess I didn't need any tricks because Tyler looked like he was enjoying it very, very much.

"Gemma, you naughty princess!" Tyler gently chided me as I enjoyed myself. "You look so fucking beautiful, you know that?" I liked hearing his compliments; it spurred me on to do even a better job. I knew that it would impossible for us to have a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship but like when he took me to dinner, it was fun pretending. I still was unsure if I was ready for a boyfriend but pleasuring a good-looking man is another thing altogether.

"Good girl," praised Tyler, "Just a little faster." I adjusted my speed, taking more in at a faster pace, my little bottom sticking high in the air. Tyler groaned in appreciation. I couldn't tell him how much I was enjoying what was happening so I moaned back. "Just a little bit faster."

It was all a little too much, the furious speed, the sense of power, the taste of champagne and cock in my mouth, I began to feel the room begin to swirl. Was this all a dream? Would I wake up soon in my old room in my old body in my old unremarkable life? I didn't want that to happen. I loved the fact that I was the toast of Sydney, a writer/mode/celebrity who was currently hungrily sucking the penis of a really sweet and really cute guy. It was my new life and it was exciting.

"Gemma?" Tyler broke my little train of though. I looked up at him from my position. "You've done such a good job that I'm going to cum very soon, very soon! So unless you want to swallow my load I'd stop sucking pretty soon." I wanted to make him happy, good girls swallow and I was tying to be a 'good girl'. I looked at him with a glint in my eyes and sucked. Now I knew more than most girls giving their first blowjob that cum isn't the nicest thing in the world; the smell was never great, the consistency is disgusting and it can be horrendous if it dries. I had 3 solid years experience of rubbing my own penis to know the trials and tribulations of semen.

I heard a grunt and I braced myself, sliding down his cock so that most of it just slides down my throat. His thick member twitches and suddenly a warm liquid is filling my mouth. I try not to panic, he warned me and I knew what I was getting into. I let the warm substance trickled back as far as it could go and I slurped it up and swallowed it. The good news was that it wasn't a bucket load, he must have came earlier in the day or maybe yesterday. I imagined him hurrying home after our almost kiss last night only to masturbate frantically thinking of me.

I gulped it down and lifted my head up, I felt a drop of cum dripping down my chin. "All gone!" I said proudly, as if I was a 4 year old who had eaten all of their vegetables.

"Good girl," Tyler sighed exhausted, "Well, that was a surprise!" I wiped my mouth with the bed sheet, the salty taste still lingered in my mouth. I crawled up beside him.

"I hope you liked it," I cooed into his ear as our heads shared the same pillow. Our noses brushed against each other as I stared in awe into his eyes.

"Liked it?" he whispered back, "I loved it. You do know this can only be a one-time thing, Gemma? If anyone found out, I could lose my job."

"I know," I said maturely, snuggling up to him, "I wont tell anyone if you don't." My crotch was moist and my nipples hard. He was huge compared to me, I felt like a little ant snuggling up to a giant. His hairy torso scratched my smooth tummy, a giant arms wrapped around my tiny waist. I was at his mercy and yet I felt so secure. He kissed me and I felt happier than I ever had before.

Our lips parted and Tyler grinned. "So, would you like for me to go down on you?" He asked me. I nodded nervously. My breaths became shallow and quick as he kissed me on my neck. He planted tiny kisses all over my collarbone as he hand reached underneath desperate to undo my bra. I remember the exhilaration of awkwardly fumbling with my ex-girlfriend's bra when I was 15, thrilled to get my hands on her tiny A-cups, it seemed to take a millennium to get her bra off. Tyler seemed to be either much luckier or much more talented and I felt the bra come undone in a matter of seconds. I held my arms out as he hurriedly pulled the bra up my arms and off completely, the recently freed breasts jiggled and Tyler squeezed them mischievously. With my bra off I was completely naked, unless you count the studs in my ears. "These are the most perfect tits I have ever seen. They are perfection! You may have to get the jaws on life to remove my hands from them."

His fingers danced around the crinkled skin of my areolas and I moaned in pleasure. "Oh you like that, huh? Little princess likes me playing with her little, perky nipples?" Tyler teased me more by gently flicking my nipples with his fingers. I nodded enthusiastically. He lowered his head and began coiling his tongue around my left nipple, his hands made sure my right one didn't feel unloved.

As his tongue circled my nipple I couldn't hold back. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah," I moaned because I felt if I didn't I would explode in pleasure. The image of Tyler heartily sucking on my nipple turned me on even more. I briefly wondered if a baby would ever suckle there, but tried to bloack that image out because it wasn't helping. As Tyler tongued my nipples a stray hand, belonging to me, began to finger my clit. My 'Oh yeah's quickly became 'Oh God's, which must have been the next step up.

"I could spend forever with these tits!" marvelled Tyler as he pushed them together, making them look positevly huge and them letting them go and watching them juggle. To think I used to hate them! Not only were they very pleasurable to touch they were just plain fun to play with. It would be like if you could play a tune on your penis. "But I think your little friend between your legs would like a visitor, wouldn't she Gemma?"

"Oh yeah…" I wanted to join in with some witty sex talk but I was too hot and bothered to be creative.

"I can see you are desperate for it, Gemma, you're wetter than any girl I've ever seen! I know I said I was going to go down on you and I still can if you want me to, but sucking on those perfect little nipples of yours has made me hard again, very hard. So, what do you want, my tongue or my cock?"

"Cock," I blurted out, a little ashamed of how slutty I was being, "I want you to fuck me!" It appeared I spoke a little overdramatically when in the throes of lust. But the truth was, having a cock inside me would prove to me that I was a girl, that I was a girl forever. Having a penis slide in and out of my vagina is the girliest thing I could do and not even Draffen could dispute that.

While I contemplated how monumental what I was about to do was, Tyler was discarding his boxer shorts. His cock bounced slightly as the elastic band of his underwear brush past it. "This is your first time, isn't it Gem?"

I was about to say, "First time as a girl," but nothing removes the romance from a room than revealing that you used to be another gender, so I modestly nodded instead.

"If at any point, you want to stop for any reason, we can, OK?" Again, I nodded. "You liked the look of my cock, don't you?" Another nod. "Come over here." I scooted to the end of the bed, my legs dangling over the side. "Grab it," he prompted me. I do so, feeling the bumps and veins throb in my tiny hand. "Now it looks big in your hand, doesn't it?" I nodded in agreement. "Well, now imagine it in your tight pussy." Explicit images flashed in my mind. "Do you still want it?" I nodded again, ashamed and a little surprised at how badly I did want it. "Oh no, I need you to say it out loud. Gemma, I need to make sure you know what you're doing. I want to have you more than anything in the world but I would leave in an instance if I knew you weren't ready."

Silently I moved my hands down to my knees and opened my legs like the gate to heaven. I looked into his eyes and told him, "I'm ready." Again a little dramatic but this was my first time and I wanted it to be special.

"OK, lie down," I did as I was told. I liked that Tyler was taking charge and I got to play the traditional subservant role. He lowered himself on top of me, kissing me on the neck. I laid still, not sure what I should be doing and waiting for the big event to happen. I felt it push against my awaiting lips for a second, I felt a little scared. I was about to make the big plunge. It pressed up against the fleshy doors once more, Tyler took hold and rubbed it around my lips. I groaned in pleasure. "OK, Gem, here we go, alright?" I nodded and tried to look down at the historical moment.

"Ahh," I yelped as his manhood was eased inside my womanhood. There was no going back, a penis was inside me. I was no longer a virgin. The void inside me felt filled, this is what man and woman were made for. Tyler was a man, and I, for the first time ever was a woman. Not a girl but a woman, I'm sure Tyler thought the grin on my face meant that he was doing a good job, that was only partly true. I now was a woman. I am Gemma.

He pushed a little deeper and I moaned in desire. I felt so full but I still wanted more. I wrapped my legs around him drawing him closer. It hurt a little bit but the pain was numbed by the pleasure and the sense of importance. "You're inside me," I gasped.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world," he told me. Even when he was in the middle of having intercourse he knew how to be romantic. He eased himself backwards and I began to feel empty again.

Forwards and the friction against the walls on my pussy began to feel good.

Back, I moaned.

Forwards, I gasped.
In, I gripped my nipples and started again with the 'oh yeah's.

Out, he grunted.

We continued our merry dance, in and out, backwards and forwards. It felt spectacularly intimate, not confusing and scary like when I was with Dot. It felt as good as my masturbation, but more intense, much more intimate. I had a large, good-looking man heaving over me. I reached down and pressed my finger against my clit, I could feel his cock pushing inside me and back out. The whole process was mind-boggling. I felt an orgasm building up. "Faster," I moaned and he took notice. If I focused down there I could feel every bump and ridge of his cock slide into my deep and tight pussy. Each thrust brought me closer to heaven.

My high-pitched moans became closer to excited yelps, like a puppy. My boobs jiggled and bounced like jelly on a plate. Tyler kept pumping away, quite stoically. "You like this, don't you?" he asked me, mid-thrust.

"Oh God yes!" I shouted in my breathy voice. I shouted, "Fuck me, Tyler!" because I had seen to many porn videos on the net.

I suddenly had an orgasm! I had felt it coming but thought it was a while off, I squealed in surprise as the wave of ecstasy came washing over me. The world suddenly went all white, and I felt incredibly hot and cold at the same time. Bliss ran from my pussy down to every part of my body, making me fell slightly electrocuted. It was bliss, and bliss I had shared with another human being. But that didn't stop Tyler, he kept doing his duty pumping away into my tight, hot vagina. "Wow!" I said when I regained the power of speech.

"Feel good, huh?"

"Oh yeah," I sighed.

"Well, I'm about to join you!" he said as his face began to contort. He slid his penis out of me and stroked it a few times, on like the 4 or so stroke a jet of hot warm liquid shot out and landed just near my arm. I was glad he didn't cum inside me, although I small part of me wanted every drop of cum he had. Perhaps it was a maternal sense kicking in, or perhaps I was a little sluttier than I thought I was.

We slept together, man and woman in the same bed in total peace, gently spooning. That was the night of the nightmare.

****

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story has been absolutely amazing. Thank you so much. Big thanks to my closest friend for all your support.

Kate Draffen (Chapter 31)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

The morning after.

CHAPTER 31

I was Michael again.

I sat up in bed and there was no bouncing from my torso. My hands leapt up to survey the flatlands that were my chest. It was flat and my nipples were back to their original size. My hands rubbed my upper body, nothing was sticking out at all! Quickly, my hand searched below, it was confirmed I was back to being Michael.

Was I ever a girl called Gemma?

It seemed so far-fetched to be real, but it felt too real to be a dream.

I looked around my room. I was back home.

I wasn't in some luxury hotel suite in Sydney with an older guy sleeping next to me. It must have been a dream. All of it. I opened my wardrobe and saw all my old clothes, Mum hadn't given most of them away after all. Posters of sexy women still adorned the walls and I was attracted to them. Gemma Taylor was all a dream, a nightmare. Sure, I wasn't rich but at least Holly wasn't horrible to me, Dot and I were fine and I wasn't good friends with those bimbos Alana and Lilly. Best of all I didn't have to wear a Debutante Dress, I could dance with Holly again! I collapsed back on the bed and laughed.

Yes, it wasn't a giggle I had my laugh back.

There was a knock at the door. It must be Mum, I thought. I wondered if I should tell her about my crazy dream, I'm sure she would find it hilarious. Nicole would surely tease me within an inch of my life though. "Come in!" I sang.

A guy casually came in. It didn't freak me out, I knew him. "Hi Tyler," I said. I stood to shake his hand. I liked Tyler he was a nice guy. He didn't shake my hand, instead he hugged me, tightly. Very tightly. Like a bear who wanted to kill me. I could almost feel being literally crushed as he hugged me. When he finally released me I felt smaller, and skinnier. Even my arms looked like twigs. Had he actually squished me? I didn't realize Tyler was so tall, I thought he was only a few inches taller than me, but now he loomed over me.

"How's things?" I asked, sitting back on my bed. He didn't respond he just sat beside me, a little too close.

"Good, good. Orange juice?" he offered me a glass of juice, I had no idea where he had produced it from but I took it, my mouth was dry. It tasted weird and tingled as it passed my lips, there was something else with the orange juice. I went to ask him what was wrong with the juice but something happened to my voice.

"What's wrong with my voice?" I asked as I clutched my throat, "I sound… wrong. Like a girl."

If Tyler heard me he didn't say anything. The world was weird; the glass that had magically appeared in Tyler's hand had just vanished from mine. I looked around wildly, I wanted to run away from there but my legs weren't working. I looked at Tyler, pleading for help with my eyes. He didn't meet my gaze; he was staring at my chest. I looked down at it to see what was grabbing his attention. Thankfully he seemed to be staring at it for no reason; there seemed nothing wrong with it. And then he started to talk.

"These are the most perfect tits I have ever seen," Tyler told me, "They are perfection! So big, so round, so juicy." I looked down at where we was praising. He seemed to be delusional, there was nothing big, round or juicy about my flat male chest. Tyler must have been seeing things. I was about to tell him that he was insane when I felt my chest slightly vibrate. It felt so strange and drew my attention back down there. For all the weird feeling emanating from there, there didn't seem to be much going on. I went to touch my chest to try and feel where this vibrating was coming from. Before I could touch my chest, the vibrations became a rumble and then an explosion! Suddenly, through Tyler's will power I had a big, round breast hanging from my chest. It was perky, it was firm, it was everything a good breast should be, except it was alone. The right side of my chest was still completely flat.

I gingerly cupped the solitary breast, gasping in shock as I realized it is real. It felt so big in my new smaller hands. I looked like a freak with one huge tit coming off my chest. There was another rumble in my chest and I knew it wouldn't be lonely for much longer. BOOM! Congratulations, Michael! You've got twins! There wasn't a moment's notice, one second I had one breast a second later I had two. My white T-shirt began to contort and slide around my body, melting into a grey tank top.

Every fibre of my being was screaming in undiluted fear, but I just couldn't convert it into words. Tyler reached over and gently fondled new newborn breasts. I tired to slap his hands away but I couldn't move my arms at all. Tyler expertly massaged my hefty, new breasts and I watched in horror as my nipples grew hard. He lifted up my top and I finally felt my arms move up, straight up to help him take it off. "Let's get you out of those pretty pink panties too!" he said as my boxer shorts transformed into what he just described. I was happy to know that I was still male where it counted, I could see my large member sticking out of the panties Tyler had created with his mind. He hooked his thumbs inside my panties and slid them down my smooth legs.

Where the hell had all my leg hair gone?

"Oh my god, you're beautiful," he sighed as he gently began to stroke my penis. I wanted to scream, or kick or both but I couldn't. All I could do was watch as another man got me hard. Tyler began getting a little rougher, tugging my cock with vigour. I threw my head back and moaned, despite not wanting to do anything of the sort. Tyler crossed the line between providing pleasure and causing pain, he was tugging much too hard. My mind screamed out in pain while my mouth translated that into pleasure.

He gripped my cock hard and pulled. Tyler seemed hell-bent on hurting me and I didn't like it one bit. I tried to tell him to stop but the word "Harder!" came out instead. He complied and with one hearty heave it came clean off. I felt it rip and I saw it in his hand. Tyler held my mighty shaft in his hand. It was no longer connected to my body, I could plainly see the blood dripping off it. He held high in the air, like a prized trophy, my ball hanging down over his hand. I looked down between my legs to see if this was just a 'Got your nose' trick gone wrong. It wasn't, from the blood in my thighs I could clearly tell that Tyler had ripped my cock off!

He looked at by broken off appendage and shrugged, tossing it onto the floor as if it was just a piece of rubbish. "No! You sick bastard!" I wanted to shout but all the came out was, "Fuck me!"

"With pleasure, Gemma," he smiled as he returned a cock between my legs, but not mine.

I bolted upright in bed as if I was spring-loaded. My breaths were short and staggered and I felt like I was about to have a heart attack. I looked around my room - I was alone, I was in a Sydney hotel room and I was a girl. I had no idea whether any of those were good. But I was happy that at least some of the night's event was a dream. I felt the fleshy protrusions on my chest rise and all with each breath. I clutched them with my hands to make sure they were really there. They were and they as full and round as I remembered them.

My mind felt like it needed a boot-up disk. I had no idea what was a dream and what wasn't? Did Tyler actually fuck me? It felt so real, but then again so did me being Michael again and there was no way that was real. I recalled in terror Tyler pulling my cock off, blood dripping everywhere. It almost felt like the blood was still there. I reached down to my thighs to prove to myself Tyler hadn't just walked in here and ripped my cock off.

And then I felt the blood.

And screamed.

I pulled my fingers back as if my thighs were hotplates. There was blood on my fingers! It wasn't sweat or urine or even cum, it was blood!

I screamed again.

"What's wrong?" said a naked Tyler, rushing into the room, his cock swinging between his legs. It wasn't a dream! I had let a man fuck me! He crammed his massive cock where it didn't belong and now I was bleeding. And, he turned me into a girl! He squashed my body and gave me weird voice changing juice and made my boobs grow with his mind and then ripped off my cock! And now I was a girl because of him!

And he fucked me!

"Fuck off!" I hollered with all my girly mite. I pulled the sheets up to cover up the huge tits I was convinced he gave me! He wasn't getting a free look, the pervert.

He feigned a look of surprise, as if he hadn't committed the most heinous crime upon me. "Gemma? What's wrong?" he approached me with the intention of fucking me again, I could see it in his eyes.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed, crawling to the corner of the bed. I clutched the mattress and prepared to kick him if he got any closer. Visions of him thrusting his engorged cock into my crotch flooded my mind, pushing all other thoughts asunder. He had did that to me last night for what seemed like ages and I had moaned, and moan a lot. I remember moaning and clutching the sheets beneath me. Why would have I moaned? What had he done to me to make me enjoy it?

I wanted answers and I deserved them and I was going to get him. "What did you do to me, fucker?" I shrieked, still keeping my distance.

"Gemma, tell me what's wrong," he pleaded. He looked concerned, probably concerned that I would rat on him to the police. I'm sure tearing off a guy's cock and then making loving to him carries a massive jail term and a gorgeous guy like him wouldn't last long in jail.

"You fucked me!" I screamed.

Tyler spoke slowly and calmly, "Gemma, settle down. You and I made love, that's all. It was a beautiful thing and nothing to freak out over." Ewww! A guy fucked me! A dude put his penis inside me. A few short weeks ago I had a penis and I liked it a lot. Then somehow I was force-fed some robots and against my will I grew a cunt, a prissy, dripping, sweet smelling cunt. I had only had this disgusting thing sitting in between my thighs for a few weeks and already guys were cramming stuff inside it. I felt sick in my stomach.

"Don't freak-out?!? I'm bleeding for fuck's sake!"

"Bleeding? Baby, are you OK?" I didn't like how sweet Tyler was pretending to be and I especially didn't like being called 'baby'.

"No, you ripped my cock off! And now my crotch is bleeding!" I thought if Tyler was faced with the truth he would crumple and cry. I knew that I was going to be a girl for a long time and I wanted him to be punished for as long as I lived my so-called life.

"Let me get this right, when I exited you last night you think I caused you to bleed? I'm sure it's nothing serious — broken hymen or maybe you are just on your period. May I see?"

Tyler's calmness was working on me, maybe he didn't yank my penis out of my body, maybe it shrank and became my new genitals. I did seem to remember that happening. Even still, I screamed "No!" taking short, shallow breaths. If he had maliciously destroyed my cock, seeing the bloody remnants of my it would be some kind of sick reward to him and if he actually was the nice guy he seemed to be, I would die of embarrassment if he saw my period blood. "Get out!" I instructed. He looked at me the same look on concerned plastered across his face and I repeated my commandment. He left the room, still naked.

The sheets slid of the bed as I dragged them with me. Since this was a luxury suite in a luxury hotel, Tyler's room also had an en suite bathroom. I hadn't even been in there before. The mirror greeted me and I saw the little girl I had been for the past month, scared and red in the face. Her name was Gemma and as far as I can untangle my memories she had sex last night. She let a man pump his large cock in and out of her special area and now as punishment for her unchaste ways she was bleeding. My reflection and I dropped our sheets in unison. My crotch wasn't a bloody mess as I had feared. There was however a small amount of blood on my inner thighs and vagina. Annette had talked to me at length about my first period and there it was in plain sight. I sat down on the edge of the toilet and cried.

It's seemed cruel to throw my period at me on the same day I lose my virginity. It was a double slap to my once masculine face. It was telling me that
1) I had a craving for cock and the lack of will power to ignore it.
And
2) That lack of will power could land me in trouble one day. Trouble of the maternal kind.

I was a girl and it was messy and there was nothing I could do about it. Your first period is supposed to be a special time in a young girl's life where she has begun her long journey to womanhood. It was just the first step of many but I had it backwards. It was the last big thing for me, I already had the fully grown body and the lust. I suddenly felt an immense longing to be male again; I didn't want these tits or my tiny little voice or genitals that spew blood anymore. Kate Draffen was right I was just pretending that I liked being a girl. I didn't like it at all. I wanted to go home.

"Tyler?" I called out for help, "Tyler?" There was a fumbling sound as he rushed into the bedroom.

"What is it, Gemma?"

I begged, "Can you bring me my toiletries bag? It's in the other bathroom, my bathroom." I hated how pathetic my voice sounded, without a word of a lie I sounded like I was 8. Tyler said that he would and then I heard him scamper away. Yes, this was my first period, the first time my body was expelling an unused egg and the accompanying womb lining. But I would be doing so for the next serval decades, monthly. If I don't hit menopause until I'm 50, I figured out, there would be about 396 of these horrible events to go. And if they last 4 days each, that would be a total of 1,584 days I would spend 'on the rag', that's 4 years and a bit! I was going to spend 4 years of my life feeling like this. That wasn't something I was looking forward to, one teeny-tiny bit!

The door opened and a hand holding a bag peeked through. "Here you go, Gemma. Do you need any help? I can call your Mum or Annette for you, if you like?" I told him to leave me alone and felt a shade guilty for being so terse but not too much. I couldn't look at him in his face, not after what we had done. I held my bag in my hands. I opened it up and saw the range of feminine products inside. It was the same toiletries bag I used to bring camping with me. Back then it was filled with shaving cream and razors. The sense of loss was fairly profound. I wrestled the little pink packaging open and a plethora of tampons in their own individual capsules came tumbling out. I took the applicator and opened one of the tampons. Despite being quite a bit smaller than Tyler's member there was much more trepidation about putting it in.

I swallowed my pride, my sense of shame, what was left of my fading masculinity and the bile sliding up my throat as I slid the tampon and applicator inside of me. It was all done in the silence of dread. I had never felt further away from whom I once was as I did in the bathroom of that luxury Sydney hotel, one leg on the ground, one leg on the toilet lid, slowly inserting my very first tampon. I wanted to be home. I wanted Mum to be waiting outside the door, ready with a great big hug. The only hug I could get now was from a naked guy. I removed the applicator and checked the little string was hanging out. 1 tampon down, around 7,602 to go.

The warms water made the tissue paper wad together as I washed the blood and tiny bit of cum off of my legs and pussy. This was not how I wanted my life to be. I wanted to be a carefree male that never has anything inserted in him and the only cum he has to clean off him is his own. When I had met Kate Draffen yesterday, I thought that she was being unrealistic, rejecting the body she had been given, refusing to conform to what people wanted from her. That finally made some sense to me. Being Gemma had lost a lot of its sheen.

My clothes were all in my bedroom, the only item of my clothes in Tyler's room was my bra and I didn't feel like wearing a bra much at the moment. Tyler's clothes were strewn around the room, casualties of last night's debauchery. In my desire to be clothed I picked up his shirt. Hot girls wearing men's shirts is obviously a major turn on for a lot of guys but probably a lot less than hot girls wearing nothing at all so I didn't worry too much. Tyler being the good-looking stylish guy he appeared to be of course wore tight, form-hugging shirts, which meant despite him being quite a bit taller than me and it being biliously loose on the rest of me, his shirt was still rather snug around my boobs. I hated being so curvy! It was like my body didn't know what size it wanted to be so it made me huge in some areas while absolutely tiny in others. I can't believe guys find this kind of body inconsistency sexy. I wish I could remember why it seems so alluring, but my masculinity was robbed from me.

While the buttons of Tyler's shirt fought bravely against my massive bust, I paced nervously. On the other side of that door was a naked man, a naked man who I had let fuck me last night. It was a mistake, and like so many mistakes it was impossible to undo. I had let a cock in me, greedily welcoming it inside me, squealing and squirming like a giddy teen girl. But I wasn't a teen girl, I was a teenage guy trapped inside a teenage girl's body, a guy who had willingly let a 26-year-old man stick his penis inside me. And what was worse was that I'd liked it! All the confusion was making me nauseous.

"You alright in there, Gemma?" asked the naked man outside my door. I didn't answer because I didn't know if I was alright or not. On the one hand I had just enjoyed passionate sex with a generous lover, and on the other hand I let a dude fuck me! There seemed to be no way of figuring out whether I was happy or totally distraught. The door handle felt warm in my hands, so I concentrated on that feeling as I opened the door. "Gemma," Tyler sighed in relief.

There were literally a million different things I wanted to express to the naked man in front of me. Thoughts of disgust and pleasure, fear and pride. "It's my time of the month," was what leaked out of my mind and into my mouth. Tyler hugged me close and I let him. When we were embracing last night there was not a single part of me that was repulsed by it, it felt right. But this morning there was a steadily growing part of me that wanted to wriggle free and run away from him. The hug went on a little long for my comfort and I broke free.

"It's going to be fine, everything's OK," he told me. It was easy for him to be optimistic he didn't have a string dangling out of his vagina.

"I feel weird," I said glumly.

"I bet," he consoled me, "But you're a total woman now, huh? That's exciting."

"I guess so," I pouted. He brushed a stray hair out of my eye.

"It is!" he smiled, "I'm sure having a period isn't any fun but it's a sign that you've become a beautiful woman now, not just a little girl anymore." I didn't like that way Tyler danced around the subject of me being a guy, I mean I'm sure it disgusts him to think of his gorgeous new conquest being a former guy but it was slightly patronizing to pretend that it never happened.

"I need to change my clothes," I flatly told him.

"But you look so hot in my shirt!" he told me playfully. Knowing that he found me attractive made me want to change it even more. Especially because that would mean that he could finally put some clothes on. Admittedly a large part of me was enjoying looking at Tyler's tight body but that only added to confusing ambivalence I was going through.

If my outfit had a name it would have been called 'Gender Neutrality'. Despite having a massive wardrobe filled with the latest girly fashions, compliments of my new employer, I wore the most gender-neutral things I could find. White boy-leg panties (still 'panties', but at least they were boy-leg), light brown T-shirt, jeans and sneakers. No jewellery, no bra, no make-up, nothing that gives away what gender I am, my body removed all doubt about that anyway.

Getting out of Sydney was my first priority. The big city had made me go strange — I was wearing heels and dresses, loving the spotlight and enjoying being fucked. I had to get out of the city and get back to familiar scenery. Back to a place where people (like Dot and Mum) would tell me I was being stupid and hold me back from making huge mistakes. I looked at the clock on my mobile phone, luckily it was much later than I thought it would be. I guess we both slept in a fair bit after our marathon sex session. Soon I would be on a plane, leaving Tyler and my troubles behind. Nothing like a few jet engines to put some distance between you and your problems.

Tyler still hadn't put any pants on when I came back into the room, his majestic/gross penis swung around as he did. I strode towards him, trying to tone down the suggestive wiggle in my walk. "Looking cute, Gemma!" he leered as my unrestrained chest bounced around. Perhaps not wearing a bra was sillier act of defiance than I thought.

"When are we leaving?" I asked as I handed him his shirt.

"Well, I guess there's time for a quick late lunch and then I guess we have to go. Sorry we aren't able to do more sight seeing but we both slept in a fair bit."

"That's fine," I told him. I just wanted to go home.

We ate at a little greasy spoon down the road from the hotel. It was weird, I had spent all of my time in Sydney seeing the best and most luxurious it had to offer but yet I spent my last moments of it inside a dirty café. I sipped my lumpy milkshake and watched Tyler mentally undress me. I could feel his eyes tugging my T-shirt over my head, since he had seen me naked only hours before I'm sure it was easy. If it wasn't so warm I would have put on some more layers.

"Well, you've had a big trip, haven't you?" Tyler asked because the silence was making him uncomfortable. I wasn't in the business of making him feel comfortable anymore, so I just wearily nodded. "Look, you've been quiet all day," he finally said, exacerbated, "Aside from all the screaming you did when you woke up. You're not ashamed of what we did last night, are you?"

The clatter and chatter of the other being in the café kept the silence from being unbearable. I couldn't meet his eyes, if I did he would know how repulsive I felt. I had knowingly and willingly let a man inside me and I wasn't as comfortable with that fact as I was a night ago. "No, not at all," I lied, "Last night was amazing, Tyler."

"I think so too. I know what you've gone through has made you very self-conscious but you were excellent last night. The blow job was the best I've ever had." I'm sure he told me that to stir up some pride in me, but I he did was almost stir up my bacon and eggs. Fried food wasn't the great hangover cure Tyler had promised. Knowing I sucked his cock better than any girl he had encountered did not make me feel proud, it made me feel dirty.

"Where's my medal then?" I asked dryly, so dry that the comment was totally arid. He laughed as if I was the same vivacious girl I was yesterday and not the confused guy trapped inside her that I awoke as today.

"So, what was all the shrieking this morning? Annette told me you used to freak out but I thought she said you were over that."

"I guess my period surprised me."

"Oh, don't worry too much about that," he said dismissively as he cut up some bacon, "Half the world's population go through it every month!" He said it as if it was no big deal, a tricky thing to do if you are not one of those 50% that do have to go through it. He should have known that it was a big deal for me, especially since I used to be one of the 50% that didn't have to go through it.

"Gemma, as I said yesterday, last night was a one time only thing. You're an amazing girl and I'm very fond of you but we would both be in a lot of trouble if anyone found out." No, he'd be in a lot of trouble, Mum would probably congratulate me for such a nice catch. "I would lose my job. So, as much fun as it was, it can never happen again."

"Don't worry," I told him, "I'm not planning on it."

He looked annoyed, perhaps he wanted me to beg for him to do right now on the dirty counter top. I think he got off on imagining that I was a naíve but horny schoolgirl and he was the mature and respectable man who taught her how to make love and I wasn't playing by the rules. He sighed, "It was an amazing night though, thank you Gem." He wanted to relive the night and I just wanted to forget about it.

Airports are filled with a lot of people, so almost everyone feels crowded. I guess I was special because I felt extremely crowded. I had to deal with Tyler who was always less than 2 steps away from me, the photographers who all surrounded me to get the best shot, the journalists who all wanted me to answer their stupid questions and the normal crowd of people who wanted to see what the fuss was all about. On top of that I was shorter than most if not all of these people.

"Did you have a good time in Sydney?"
"Yes."
"What did you like?"
"Everything."
"Are you looking forward to going home?"
"Yes." Couldn't they tell I didn't want to talk? I was too polite to ignore the press but I wasn't answering their questions very well.

"How is working for Dolly Magazine?"
"Great. It's really great. Thanks guys," I said trying to quicken my pace to leave them behind.

The good thing about being a celebrity though is being whisked through places where 'normal' people have to wait. I knew in heart that I should have waited in lines like everyone else, but my troubles seemed so much bigger. The airport staff treated me very well and Tyler and I were escorted to the gate. Not only that but I was allowed to board before everyone else. I stood by the door, Tyler standing in front of me.

"So…" I began. It was the only thing I could say with any certainty.

"So…" he echoed. I looked up at him with my big green eyes. My backpack sat on one shoulder; inside it were my valuables; my iPod, my diary, my sunglasses, my hat, a hairbrush and my tampons. I would have to change my tampon on the plane, like some sort of twisted 'Mile High 'Club'.

"Look, I hope you've had fun here. It's been great showing you around and ummm… you know. You are a real special girl," Tyler put his hands on shoulders and addressed me like a kid. I knew he wasn't allowed to show too much affection in public but it came off as just plain patronizing.

"I'm going to email as soon as I get home, there's a lot of things I can't say to you in public, Gemma." Great! I would be able to read his patronizing and potentially dirty comments online too!

"It's been fun," was all I could say. It had also been weird, crazy, scary, beautiful, traumatizing, sexy, scarring, maturing, satisfying and confusing.

"Bye kiddo," he hugged me. It was supposed to be a 'friends' hug but it was a little too tight and his hands were a little low on my back. My boobs were well and truly mushed up against him. Maybe he'd say it was because of my backpack but he could have hugged around the bag, he's got long manly arms.

"Bye." Airports are a place of heightened emotions; like a Hospital. I always wonder how the staff live seeing so much emotion. They must see people saying goodbye and crying or saying 'Welcome back' and crying or any other fiercely strong emotions every minute of everyday. They must get desensitised to high emotions. That would be weird.

To the staff looking from a distance our goodbye must have looked fairly bland and standard; a glum-looking cute teenage girl being hugged by a professional looking guy isn't the interesting. I'm sure if they knew the full story they would have been more interested.

That I used to be a guy.

That he was my publicist and 9 years older than me.

That we kissed and then fornicated in my hotel room.

And that I now knew that I didn't want to be Gemma anymore.

I want to go home!

****

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story is amazing. Thank you so much to everyone who has ever e-mailed or commented, it means a huge amount.

Kate Draffen (Chapters 32 - 33)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

Gemma comes home from Sydney and tries to deal with her mounting problems.

CHAPTER 32

"…then I got whisked through at the airport and the flight was OK." I summarised my story for my Mum who was driving me back to Marrang. Flying First class seems so much more classy when the very next vehicle you get in is a brown 1990 Toyota Carolla. Despite jumping out of luxury and into banality or perhaps because of it, it felt good to be home. Or at least in the car traveling the three hours to home.

"Well, it sounds like you had a great time. I missed you a bunch too. Life's just not the same without photographers in the bloody garden and boys breaking down the back door!" She wound down the window to smoke. The cold night air whipped inside the speeding car and began throwing things around like a biker gang in a bar. Cigarette smoke was preferable to the chilling winds that made my nipples alert as soldiers.

"And that yellow dress you wore to the party! I died when I saw you in the paper this morning! You looked so pretty, Gemma! Like a little angel! Just made me so excited for your Deb." I inwardly cringed as Mum nattered away about the Deb ball. I was always a little uneasy about doing it and now with my newfound malaise I was positively dreading it. "And in the photos I saw you were wearing heels? Wow Gemma! I'm so bloody proud of you. You are growing up so fast. It seems like just last week you became a girl."

"It was a month ago," I sighed.

"Only a month? Wow, you've come so far so fast! With your little dresses and the way you move and talk and act, it's like you were never a boy at all!" Great! Even my own mother thought of me as complete woman. She had known me longer than anyone else and even she was forgetting who I used to be. What chance do I have? Maybe I should let go and become the giggling, cocksucking bimbo the whole world wants me to be. "Next thing I'll know you'll have a boyfriend!" Little did she know that her sweet little daughter was already having casual sex.

The long car trip home was a little too silent. I kept my answers short which probably made the trip seem longer. It wasn't unbearable silence between us but I'm sure Mum knew that something was upsetting me. The signs whizzed by, each one proclaiming that Marrang was a little closer. The sun was climbing down the sky, saying its goodbye by making the horizon look pink and purple and beautiful. I wondered if the sun ever got bored with doing the same daily grind over and over, up, over the top and then down again. Repeat.

"Mum, can we stop at the toilets in the next town?" I asked.

"Yeah, of course. It will give me a chance to have a ciggie," Mum replied. I'm not sure why but ever since I turned into a girl Mum barely smoked in the car anymore. I guess maybe she thinks that this little body couldn't possibly handle any puff of smoke. Either way, it made driving in her car much nicer.

"Can I ask you a question?" Mum asked. I told her she could. "Do you miss being able to take a piss standing up?" I buried my face in my hands, the citizens of Sydney never asked me questions like that. They asked how I was so brave and things of that nature. None of them asked about urinating.

"Not really, I know I should but sitting down isn't that bad," while I felt more disillusioned with my new gender than ever, the truth was peeing sitting was fine. What I didn't like was how often I needed to go - my new bladder seemed tiny! If guys had small bladder that would make sense because they all need to do is whip it out and go wherever, but somehow the women ended up with the smaller bladder.

We arrived at a sleepy town much smaller than my own. With a pub and a petrol station and that's about it. Mum pulled the car up to the public toilets, "Here we are!" she proclaimed as if she had brought me to the Promised Land.

"Can you pop the boot for me?" I asked. Just a simple question really, a question that really doesn't need a follow up question.

"Why?" asked Mum. Damn her!

"Because I need something out of my bag," I told her. Hopefully that would be enough information for her.

"Like what?"

"Just something," I snarled. I am a teenager and thus I am allowed to snarl. Only teenagers and predatory cats are given that right.

Having older teenage daughter Mum must have known it was a wrong move to ask another question after a teenager had snarled but she did it anyway. "Is it in you backpack? Or do you need help getting your suitcase out?"

"Fuck! What's with all the questions? I'm getting a tampon! Is that OK with you? I've got blood and stuff oozing out of my pussy and I have to plug it up with something! Bloody hell, Mum! Can't an ex-boy have his period without his Mum asking him a thousand fucking questions!" I flung open the boot and rummaged around for the purple box. I'm sure the commotion I was making was the biggest event to happen in the sleepy little rest stop of a town all year.

"I'm sorry Gemma," my Mum mumbled as she fumbled for a cigarette. I winced at hearing my stupid girl name and sprinted up to the toilet blocks to get the disgusting deed done with. Gemma's large round tits bouncing around with each step. As far as I could see it was all Gemma's fault. I had to change Gemma's tampon, she was the one totally in lust with Tyler and it was her body that caused all these problems from the start. I didn't hate myself in the slightest, my main problem was that I hated Gemma.

I stood with one leg on the toilet seat, my jeans and underpants around one of my feet. I hate pulling on the little string and seeing the slightly bloodied prize waiting for me. After it was removed, it swung in the air like a bloody little cotton wrecking ball. Annette had told me it was wrong to flush a used tampon down the toilet but this tiny town's public toilet didn't seem to have a sanitary napkin bin, let alone a bin at all. The water came crashing into the bowl and the second tampon I had ever used was washed away. I tapped another one out and cautiously inserted it. This sucks!

Avoiding my mother's eyes was my main objective getting back in the car. There nothing to be proud of, I shouldn't have yelled at her. The car spluttered into action and we drove away, the roar of the dilapidated car and the whir of the Beach Boys tape the only sounds. I looked at my mother, whether I liked it or not I was her daughter now. I used to be her son and I liked that relationship, it was casual, friendly and close. Without a father figure in my life she taught me well, she coached me through my first shave and listened to my romance problems whenever I felt I could open up to her. But I was always a little jealous of her relationship with Nicole, while Mum was just my mum, Mum was not only Nicole's Mum but her best friend. They would hang out together for fun, laughing and joking. Their mother-daughter bond was so strong that some people thought they were sisters, something my Mum would brag about whenever she could. I always wanted that. And now, I was fully equipped to have it.

"Mum, do you remember your first period?"

There wasn't even a moment's pause as she launched into the story, as if she had been thinking about it and me asking her had given her permission to open her mouth and let it all come tumbling out. "I'll never forget it until the day I die, Gemma. I was 11 and I was at my friend Sandy Lynn's birthday party and I remember I was wearing my brand new white jeans."

"Really? White jeans?"

"Shut up! They were in fashion. Anyway, I didn't notice right away in fact, Sandy's Mum came over to me and took me in the bathroom. There was the small red dots on the crotch of my new jeans. I was spotting. I was so devastated, but she was really sweet. She gave me some new undies, a pad and let me borrow one of Sandy's skirts. But I was way too mortified to come back out to the party so Sandy's Mum called my Mum to come and pick me up.

"I remember Mum pulling up in her old Ford and me just bloody bolting for it, not saying goodbye to any of the girls or anything. I just sat in the car and sooked the whole way home." The parallels weren't lost on me.

"When we were driving home, your Nanna said to me, 'I know it might not seem like it now, love, but you've just received a very special gift.' It came off as sappy to me back then but once Nicole had her first period I understood it. Being a girl is fun and all but being a woman is incredible. I know that sometimes you didn't like being a girl at all, but it's different now, you're a beautiful woman now." Mum started to tear up, her voice crackling like a camping fire. "And I am so proud of you."

"I don't like what I am at the moment, Mum," I told her honestly, "I know being a woman is a wonderful gift but I'm not sure it was meant for me. I didn't gradually become a woman I was shoved into this body. I really want to love being a woman but I don't even know that it's possible."

"OK, I wasn't aware you felt like that. I know I haven't been the best Mum in the world during this whole thing. I didn't know how to raise a boy and I know even less how to raise a girl who used to be a boy. So for all my mistakes, I'm sorry. But, you can learn to love yourself, you've always been a remarkable person and it doesn't matter what body you are in you'll always be remarkable. I really want to help you, Gemma, help you to love yourself."

OK, I cried. We both did. In all my life I had never had such a deep moment with the woman who gave birth to me, maybe it took the realization that I could now give birth to truly understand how important she was to me. It's weird having a moment like that on hour number one of a three-hour drive, normally after an emotionally draining moment like that you would excuse yourself.

Becoming Gemma had given me a lot of Taylor qualities that seemed dormant as a male and I wasn't just talking about the large chest. Mum, Nicole and now I shared a quick temper, I always thought I could always figure things out rationally before acting but now my emotions were on a hair trigger. I did things I almost instantly regretted. I didn't know if I could blame that on genetics, my new hormones, or the fact that acting crazy was an appropriate action in my new crazy world. I definitely had Mum's lust for life now, before I was a little too laid back but now I felt passion for things that I never had before. Dr. Chisholm had told me that I would change and I guess there were worse people to emulate than my mother.

"Do you know why Dad hasn't approached me yet? I know he's been absent for years and all but I thought he would have shown after his only son become his daughter." It was true I didn't think about my Dad much but there was a niggling feeling inside me ever since the change.

Mum sighed the same exacerbated way as she did whenever I asked about Dad. "Gemma, your father is not the type of person to admit he made a mistake, nor is he one to think a man is an important part of the child rearing, luckily he is also not one to ever ask for a handout. He's not going to show up."

"You really don't think he's going to?" My memories of my father were like tiny nonsense poem written in the margins in my mind. I'm not sure if the memories I have are even real or fabricated ones. He left when I was really quite young and after a few minimal efforts at birthdays and Christmases he vanished completely. I did, however, get a crisp $20 note from his mother every birthday. I wondered if he thought about me much and if his memories were a hodgepodge of tiny slithers of memories too.

"From what I know, your father doesn't even live in Australia anymore. He's in Indonesia or somewhere like that," revealed my Mum nonchalantly, "Went there to work for a mining company and fell in love with a local woman, a nurse I think."

"Um… How long have you known that?"

She dipped her headlights as a semi-trailer barrelled down the road towards us. Mum didn't take her eyes off the road but said this as if she was staring me in the eyes, "Long enough that I felt guilty for not telling you about it, got over it and then felt guilty again, let's just say that much."

It was nice to feel so close to Mum, she wasn't just a parental figure but a woman and a friend. She had made some mistakes but she always tried to her to make me the best person possible. As the car pulled into our steep driveway, I felt an overwhelming sense of security wash over me. I was finally home, far away from pretty yellow dresses, Kate Draffen and Tyler's throbbing member. "Thanks Mum," I said as we unloaded the baggage from the car, although the emotional baggage I now had though would take more time to unpack.

"Anytime love," she told me.

I took a nostril full of my house's smell. I dropped my bags just inside the front door (Mum hated when I did that). It was good to home and felt my body relax, a body I definitely was sick of though, a body that needed me to change its tampon again. Perhaps I was being a little over zealous with my tampon changing but Annette had been fairly explicit when talking me through Toxic Shock Syndrome, and I didn't want to die because I left some cotton inside me. I grabbed my backpack and went to the bathroom. Since it was bedtime for me soon it was time for a pad, I couldn't leave a tampon inside me all night so Annette had also equipped me with some nighttime pads. I grabbed a fresh pair of panties out of my backpack and stuck down the pad. I felt a little bit like a nappy as it snuggled up against my vagina, but I would have to deal with it.

I walked carefully to my room. Excellent, barring the bathroom and maybe the beach I wasn't going to leave this room for anything ever again. As Nicole had threatened me she had moved one of her full-length mirrors into my room. Nicole had two of them and said that no girl should be without one, so it appeared like she had donated one of hers. I looked in the mirror and was disheartened by the fact that although I was dressed as androgenous as possible I still looked alarmingly female. I guess it's hard to look sexless with your secondary sexual characteristics sticking out all over the place.

"Enjoying the mirror or the reflection?" said a voice that had peeked into the room. I didn't have the heart to tell Nicole I hated both.

"You flew home wearing that?" Nicole clearly disapproved of my casual attire, "I thought Dolly Magazine gave you a whole new wardrobe of clothes." News of free clothes travelled faster than my plane home.

"They did," I said still grimacing in the mirror, "but I didn't feel like dressing up today," (or ever again). Nicole walked over to me and shared the mirror. Two pretty blonde sisters looked back at us, one smiling and primping the other one staring expressionless. No prizes for guess which one I was.

"I love having a sister," Nicole grinned, wrapping an excitable arm around me, "and I'm not just saying that for some free clothes. I mean it. When I was little I used to bug Mum for a little sister constantly. This was after Dad left so it was kinda impossible but I didn't know any better. Not saying that I didn't like you but just I wanted someone to play with who wouldn't make Barbie fight the Ninja Turtles." Just for the record, the Ninja Turtles always won, even though Barbie towered over them.

"I'm a little old for dolls," I revealed.

"I know that, dickhead, I'm just saying that we've got a lot of sisterly activities to catch up on." My guess to explain the way both my sister and mother were behaving was that they realized that they should be a little gentler towards me and this overly sappy sentiment was their idea of being 'nice'. Or maybe I was feeling so down that any showing of sentiment would appear 'sappy' to me.

"Sisterly activates?" I groaned.

"Don't worry, it'll be fun. Christ Gem! Even when you're not dressed up you're hot!" Nicole fell back into her standard mode of flattery, telling me how hot I was. "I wish I was as skinny as you. I cannot wear low riding jeans because I get a terrible case of muffin top, but you can pull it off easily." She lifted up my T-shirt just under my boobs to admire my slender form. Her fingers explored my torso, searching for love handles or something of their ilk. I squirmed and pushed my T-shirt back down.

"Stop it!" I whined.

"I was just admiring your tummy," confessed Nicole defensively.

"Well, don't be jealous, Nicole. It's not like I earned this body through hard work or anything, I got infected, that's all! So don't be jealous, believe me if I could give you this body," I squeaked, my voice was higher than Nicole's and I hated it, "I would!"

"Fuck me! Settle down, I was just saying you have a rocking body," said Nicole, who had obviously read too much women's mags to come out with 'rocking body'. "No need to spazz out on me."

"I'm not spazzing out!"

"Fair enough, you're not," she said, trying to calm me down, "I'll catch up with you tomorrow, OK sis? I'm going over to Ben's for a bit." She smiled a natural smile at me and gave my shoulders a tight little squeeze.

My damp, depressing thoughts picked me up and threw me on the bed. I lay there very still, pinned down by how wrong I felt. I was stuck in this body and try as hard as I could there was no way out. It was weird; I felt like I did right after the change, the same gloomy malaise spreading through my body. I thought I had grown. I thought that I was enjoying it all, loving the attention and the new friends, but maybe it was all an act.

The tinkle of music and the feeling of a minor earthquake caught my attention. It was my phone in my jeans' pocket. Girl's jeans all seem to me frighteningly tight and these were no different, so pocket space was minimal. Struggling, I gripped my flip-top phone with my thumb and index finger and gently tugged it out of its denim burrow. The call was from Tyler. I didn't answer it. I wasn't sure what I would say to him. I couldn't tell him that after having sex with him I had fallen into a depression and desperately wanted my old gender back. I couldn't tell him that a part of me really like the sex and the rest of me absolutely loathed that part of me. Instead I sat the phone in front of my face on the bed and stared it down until it stopped ringing.

I didn't move all night.

CHAPTER 33

I let another one of Tyler's calls ring out. It was the third time he had called that morning but still he hadn't learnt that I wasn't answering. I didn't want to move at all, let alone have an awkward conversation with a man that I had recently lost my virginity to. I was sick of hearing his attempts at conversation so the phone was put on vibrate, whenever he tried to call my phone would dance eagerly across my bed.

My period hadn't stopped yet. I had been bleeding for 24 hours now and was not entertained by the fact it may last another six days. At least I hadn't experienced any PMS before the event, which was a good sign. My period felt like my body was angry with me for not getting pregnant. I felt like it was saying, "What?! You're not pregnant? But we got an egg ready and set up a nice womb and everything! And you don't want to use it! Fine! We'll just toss the egg and all the womb lining out your vagina and start again! You better be ready for next month though!" I didn't have the heart to tell it I was never going to let it have a baby.

Mum poked in her smiley face and shined a bright morning grin in my direction. "You want to come shopping with me and Nic? Just us three girls?"

"No thanks," I said, not moving at all.

"Come one, Gemma! We haven't had a chance to hang out much, just us three and I think it would be great fun! We can get some Fish 'n' Chips for lunch and go eat them by the beach and then we can go buy some clothes!"

"I already have more clothes than Michael ever did," I groaned, rolling over to avoid her gaze. My bra-less boobs sluggishly followed, jiggling as I rolled.

"Yes, you have a lot of clothes but there's no such thing as too much clothes!"

"No thanks."

Mum didn't push her luck.

She was a little perturbed however when she came back many hours later to discover I hadn't moved. "Gem, are you OK?"

"Fine," I told her.

"Gemma, you're going to have a period pretty regularly and you can't stay in your room every time you get your monthly visitor."

"I just need some down time after my trip. It was really draining."

"At least eat something," I felt the mattress go down so I knew Mum was sitting on the bed. "I bet you haven't eaten since who knows when. Gemma, you're still growing, you have to eat."

I did eat, my depression wasn't one of self harm just a realization that my life was now thoroughly ruined and all I could do is sit back and let it happen. I ate my dinner, washed my dishes and went back to bed. Not only was I avoiding calls from Tyler but my phone held a whole stack of names I didn't pick up on; Kevin, Lilly, Becca, Alana and even Glen and Dot's calls rang out. I'm sure they were only interested in hearing stories from Sydney but I didn't want to talk to anyone. In lieu on human relationships I turned to movies, my pitiful stack of DVDs only got me so far, and I had the hankering to just head down to the shopping centre and buy a year's worth of movies. I'm sure watching the world's greatest movies for an entire year would actually be a rewarding experience. I always found it ultimately depressing that it was impossible to consume all of the world's greatest works of art in one lifetime. I found it daunting that even if I read/admired/watched/listened all day, everyday I wouldn't be able to appreciate all of the truly great works of art. But a year in my room with nothing but the world's greatest films would take a sizeable chunk out of the 'must-see' list. Mum had bought be a book titled, '1001 movies to see before you die' and if I was strict about it and watched 3 movies a day I could knock over the entire amount. Surely that make me a much more enlightened (and thus better) person.

After Austin Powers 2 finished, I discovered my movie collection didn't really contain many 'true' classics. I looked at my alarm clock, K-mart would be shut so my 'Year of Enlightenment' would have to be on hold until tomorrow. I stood up and arched my aching back. It might have been true that I was going a little too stir-crazy enclosed in my tiny room but the real world was much too depressing. I was a girl outside of my room; inside of it my gender didn't matter. Sure I still had to change my tampons every couple of hours but other than that and the huge full-length mirror in the corner my gender was ignorable.

"Gemma! Time for school!" Mum called out in the morning. She did wake me up but I presumed that she wanted to do that. I didn't reply, I thought I had made it quite clear that my room was my sanctuary and I wasn't about to leave it for something as trivial as school.

She wrapped at the entrance of my little world and I didn't react, I was employing what I think Ghandi had deemed 'Passive Resistance'. Mum came in and saw me lying on my bed, glassy stare in my eyes. "Oh Gem!" she bemoaned.

"Don't make me go to school," I said, without lifting my head.

Pre-serious discussion from the trip home in the car Mum would have hit my on my bottom told me I was being stupid and drag me to school herself but I could see her eyes becoming softer. "Gemma, what's wrong?"

I gave an excuse that if any other kid had given their mother they would have been dragged out of bed by their nose, "I just don't feel like it." But to Mum's credit she suppressed those urges.

"OK, I'll call up the school and say your sick," she said as her ran her motherly hands through my hair.

"Thanks," a minuscule smile crept onto my face.

"But I'm also calling Annette to come down and have a look at you. I'm worried about you, you haven't been the same since you came back from Sydney." Annette? Great, suddenly school didn't look that bad. I moved my head enough to be a nod. I should have been thrilled that I was getting a free sick day, any day not wasted by the drudgery of school is a day worth living but all I felt was the warm air trickling through the crack in my window. It felt like this summer would never end.

"OK, I've gotta go to work now. Will you be fine by yourself?" Mum asked.

"I'll be OK," I sighed but I wasn't certain. Mum leaned down and tenderly kissed my forehead, she stood up and walked out of my room. My little world's population was back down to one, just how I liked it.

You might think lying on my bed for two days straight would have been boring but I was numb to boredom. I kept replaying my meeting with Kate Draffen in my head over and over. He had seen through my prissy little act before I had. I wasn't happy wiggling my hips, putting on dresses and admiring boys' bodies. It must have been an act I convinced myself was real. This body was more powerful than I thought, it had me convinced that being a girl was alright.

When I met Kate I thought I was the smarter one, the one who was getting on with life. I knew in my heart of hearts that all Kate needed to do was embrace his newfound masculinity and he would have been happy again. It upset me to think of how wrong he truly was but the truth was I was wrong. Saturday morning, when I awoke, bleeding from the hole between my legs, was the day it finally dawned on me — I was in the wrong body. And I was stuck. I didn't know what I was going to do with the rest of my life anymore.

"So, you're sick are you?" said a voice. It was Dot's voice.

"Hi Dot," I said. It was only a matter of time that someone would come and see why I wasn't answering their calls, a little bit of me was happy it was Dot.

"Hi Gemma," said the guy who followed behind Dot. It was Glen, his usual position was directly behind Dot or me but now that he was Dot's boyfriend I'm pretty sure it would be impossible to separate the two. They looked cute together actually but it was obvious who was in charge.

"Glen and I just wanted to see how you were doing." I sat up in a gesture of respect. I hadn't showered and my hair was a little clumpy. I felt how I looked.

"I'm OK. Just didn't want to go to school today."

"Yeah well, when the country's biggest celebrity doesn't show up for school people notice," explained Glen, "I had people asking all day where you were."

"Me too," Dot agreed, "No-one had a clue. We thought you might still be in Sydney but we stopped in at your Mum's pub on the way here and she said you were sick. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just didn't want to go to school," I repeated, I didn't like them standing over me, "Sit down already, I'm not about to kick you out." Normally, when us three sat down in my room, one of us would take the bed, someone else would take the beanbag, leaving the computer chair spare for the third. But since they were both in the lovey part of their relationship they climbed into the beanbag together. It was weird watching two people who once had the platonic-space-boundary enforced for so many years be so intimate together, especially after Dot had found it so hard not to laugh when we were being intimate.

"So, you missed diddley-squat at school today," sighed Glen, "Just more of the same, ever grinding towards the end of Year 12 and then uni and then work and then death."

"Wow, grim much?" asked Dot.

"Says you, you wannabe emo!" Glen knew that was one of Dot's buttons. Although she wore dark clothes, listening to moody music and read gothic horror stories she was endlessly frustrated being lumped into the 'emo' or 'goth' group. But instead of calling Glen a 'fucktard' or something of the like, she playfully wrestled him in the beanbag. It was disconcerting, like watching the Coyote having a tickle fight with the Road Runner instead of trying to kill it.

"Saw your pic of you at your gala thing on the net on Saturday. Little yellow dress? Geez, Gem. Are you sure you weren't a girl all your life? Because boys don't pose like that!"

"I had to wear it," I lied, "Dolly Magazine forced me to."

"Sure they did," she said, obviously not believing me, "But it looked like a rocking party."

"It was fun," I said, but the disinterest in my voice made it sound like I could have been saying anything.

"And what about John Draffen?" Glen got excited, "That must have been a historic moment meeting him.

This wasn't a question I just could flog off with another 3-word answer and I knew it. "Kate, he likes to be called Kate."

"Why?"

"Well, she was forced into using a guy's name and he would rather not be called it, I think. Anyway, she's pretty messed up, you know she's a woman trapped in a man's body so it's very tough. But I think she's got a lot of things right by fighting the changes, you know? Just because she's got a cock doesn't mean she's a guy."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it does," teased Dot.

My blood boiled a little bit hearing Dot say that, for a girl who could be a very deep thinker she looked at the issue of gender with a pretty confined view. "You know what I mean, she's in a very fragile state and it kinda reminded me how weird all of this is."

"Gemma, a month ago you used to be a quiet movie nerd and now you're on the front of magazines showing off your Double D cleavage in party dresses, there is nothing at all in this story that is not weird."

"Just a D," I pouted, "Not Double D."

"I'm sure some brands you're a Double D." It was a technicality but she was right.

It wouldn't have been a conversation with Dot if she didn't mention my breasts. Perhaps she was jealous of the large fatty deposits on my chest or perhaps it was her awkward way of making me feel more like 'one of the girls', either way 10 minutes couldn't past without her making reference to my chest.

"Anyway," I said changing the subject, "Kate made me realise how unnatural I was acting."

"What do you mean 'unnatural'?" Glen said, "I think you are coping really well."

"Yeah, all joking aside, Gem," Dot joined in, "What you have achieved is pretty amazing. I mean, if it happened to me I would freak out but you've really embraced it."

"But c'mon! I was shaving my legs by like the third day! Lusting after boys a few days after that! Wearing a girl's school uniform, doing my deb, wearing make-up, being a model. That's not embracing it, that's going insane! I was more girly than most girls!"

"So what?" shrugged Dot, "If that's who you are then that's who you are." Glen nodded in agreement. "It took me sometime to realise that you're different to who you used to be too, Gemma. Don't take this the wrong way but you’re a much better girl than you were a boy."

"How could I possibly take that the wrong way?" I snarled.

Dot and I had been through too many fights recently and it seemed like Dot was trying her best to avoid another one, one she had seemed to have started. She talked slowly, patiently explaining herself, "I mean, you seemed to be really enjoying the finer points of being a girl, where as you were never a big fan of manly things like sports, being chauvinistic and all that Alpha-male bullshit."

"I don't care if I'm better at being a girl," I huffed, defensively crossing my arms, "It's so shit! Why can't everything go back to normal?"

"It must suck, Gem. And you know what, I wouldn't swap places with you for a million bucks," Glen said, forgetting I had already made well over a million bucks, "But you're so incredible, I was so proud of you taking all this in your stride. Whatever Kate said to you has messed with your head, Gemma, and I'm sure whatever she said was wrong because out of you two, a depressed shut-in and a bubbly, caring person I know which one I'd rather be friends with. I'm sure you're just going through a one month slump."

Dot's ears pricked up, "One month? Gemma dear, are you having your monthly visitor at the moment?"

"That's kinda personal," I grumbled.

"Yeah, and we are your best friends. You know, the people you talk about personal things with."

"I'm not sure I want to hear it," Glen said as soon as he realized he soon could be in the middle of a conversation about menstruation and as far as bad places for a guy to be, talking about menstruation was only a notch above stuck in quick sand with scorpions surrounding your slowly sinking head.

"Don't be such a sook, you fucking moron," Dot scolded her new boyfriend, "All girls get their period; your Mum, my Mum, all the girls at school and me. Oh shock, Glen! Once a month blood oozes out of my vagina!" I bet Glen was having second thoughts right then and there. "If that is what's keeping you from school, that's totally fine. I remember how bloated and gross I felt on my first period. I blagged a few days off of school."

"When did you get your first period?" I quietly asked.

"End of Year 9," Dot said, "I know, I was a late start. Plus I was irregular for like 6 months. 24 days, 15 days, 40 days, just whenever it wanted! And I'm not sure if you know but I PMS pretty bad, I cramp up tons!" I liked hearing Dot's problems with her period; it made me feel a little better about my own relatively non-dramatic period. "So, how did your's go or how is it going?"

"OK, it's been going for like 3 days now, I just want it to end. I'm so terrified of tampons too, I'm scared I'm going to lose it up there."

"Gross," squirmed Glen, he had been doing well, until that point.

"Well, I last usually around 6 days."

"Great!" I bemoaned, "Half way."

"OK, we…we're agreed periods are terrible and weird. What's next on the agenda?" I don't think Glen liked being the minority in our little friendship group anymore. It used to be that Dot was the odd-woman-out, which suited all of us just fine. But then again, they were in a relationship so I guess I was the odd-woman-out.

"So, are you going to school tomorrow?" Dot asked me.

"No, I don't think so. Unless I get dragged out of bed and shoved into the car."

"Don't give us ideas," Dot grinned, "C'mon Gem, a bit of school will do you good. Alana, Alison and Lilly are just dying without their little Barbie Doll to play with." I sighed, school would be good if I could walk back in there as Michael, that way I could appreciate the fact that I'm good friends with the hottest girls in school.

I sighed a long world-weary sigh. It echoed through the room and everyone knew — I was one confused person. The conversation had petered and that sigh signalled the time to leave. "We should probably get going," Dot said, always in charge.

"OK, thanks for coming, guys."

Dot strode out the door and Glen, in a position he was now fixed into for the rest of his life, followed behind her. He turned around and said, "I hope you feel better," smiled, furrowed his brow a little and then trundled after his girlfriend.

Before I could think back on the conversation Mum knocked on the door. "You decent?" she asked. She must have just seen Dot and Glen leave so why would she assume I was in a state of undress?

"Yes," I said.

She entered the room, her large breasts coming past the door before anything else, I wondered if the same thing happened to me as well, considering we were around the same proportions I guessed so. But her breasts weren't bothering me, what was in her hand was. It fluttered lightly as the breeze blew by, the white satin shimmering in the sunlight. "Ready for a fitting?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said, although it was clear that I meant 'no'.

"Gemma, I've done as much as I can do without you trying it on again. It'll just take a few seconds," she promised.

The truth was in my vegetative state I had already decided that I was no longer doing the Debutante Ball anymore. It seemed ridiculous to shun this body and at the same time wear a glorious garment designed to show it off. But I couldn't tell her I wasn't doing the Deb while she was holding the dress, it was impossible. I guess Mum took my sitting up as a 'yes' and began to order me about. "Good girl, Gemma. Thank you. Don't worry I called Annette today and she'll be around tomorrow to help you with your little problem." Whenever Mum had that dress around, everything else seemed small — the fact I now hated myself and couldn't stand my new gender was now just a 'little problem'. I wasn't looking forward to seeing Annette but I did want to feel better about myself and I am sure she would have some pills or something to help it.

Mum walked me out to the TV room, which had become the Debutante Dress room for the next few weeks. Without Mum having to ask I pulled off my T-shirt. "Whoa! I didn't expect to see you so undressed so quickly. Looks like someone is desperate to see her dress on."

"No," my breasts softly bounced, "I just want it over and done with." I didn't care that Mum saw me topless anymore, it wasn't like this was my body or anything; I was just stuck in it.

She helped me into my petticoat and I didn't complain once, complaining would only slow the process down. At least she didn't make me strip of my pyjama bottoms; you wouldn't be able to see them under the dress anyway. Hardly any of the girls where wearing petticoats, I guess the full skirt wasn't a big fashion but Mum seemed to think it was paramount. I looked like a Disney Princess getting ready for the ball, but instead of a cartoon mouse helping me, I had my 30-something cigarette smoking Mum. "OK, lift your hands up," she instructed. I did so and the world disappeared underneath the white satin. All I could hear was the rustling of material and all I could feel was the cool satin against my soft, soft skin. Although I was disgusted with the result, the sensuous feeling of it all was heavenly, even to my numb mind.

Mum got a little choked-up seeing me, I guess she saw me as a little princess and not as a boy in a girl's body in a girl's dress. "Gemma, you look like an angel. Thank you so much for doing this for me." It's very hard when she says things like that. She looked me over and checked the bodice. Since Nicole is a little huskier than me Mum had let in a lot of the seams. It now clung to my body. I know saying it fit like a glove is a cliché but that's exactly how it fit, conforming to my every curve. It's seemed such a shame that the dress looked so perfect on this body and yet I was inside it.

"I may have not let it out enough in the bust," Mum tutted with her critical eye firmly in place, "Is it comfy?" I told her it was fine because it mainly was and I didn't want to spend any more time in it. She reached into the top of my dress and 'plumped' up cleavage by lifting my boobs higher and closer together, the dress was tight enough to hold them in place without having them look like they were about to spill out.

So rarely did Debutante dresses look both beautiful and sexy, but this one was alarmingly close.

Upon hearing a knock at the front door Mum left me alone to suffer. It was going to be impossible to tell her I wasn't doing the Deb, the way she looked at me while I wore my gown was swimming with beautiful nostalgia and unending pride. It would break her heart.

"Oh my God!" cried the girls at the door, the boy there just looked stunned.

"Gemma, you have some visitors," Mum smiled, inwardly proud of the reaction her dress received.

"Wow, Gemma! Just wow! You're sooooooo cute!" said Alana, her eyes as wide as they could go. You could see the Debutante Ball-madness creep into her eyes. Girls have a tendency to go a little bit loopy during Deb season. I looked over at Lilly and saw that the madness was spreading. I just hoped I was impervious to it.

Glen and I dubbed it Debutante Ball-madness or just simply 'The Madness'. It seemed to affect all girl involved in any way with the Deb Ball; the debutante themselves, their mothers, the teachers, pretty much any girl anywhere that knew someone making their debut. Symptoms include (but are not limited to): higher than usual pitched voices due to excitement, flapping arms, wide 'crazy' eyes, endless talk about dress styles, overuse of the words 'gorgeous' 'fairytale' and 'sweetheart neckline', elongating the word 'so' to an agonising length and extreme dieting. Boys, no matter if they are doing the Deb or not, aren't affected, neither is Dot.

"You look like a frigging princess, Gem!" squealed Lilly in a pitch that only people with similarly high voices could hear.

"Hi guys," I shrugged casually, trying to calm them down, "Hi Aaron."

Lilly's train of thought had seemingly lost its driver, "Hi Gemma, we just came to see if… Spin around!"

"Yeah," agreed Alana with the symptoms of the madness very clear.

I did so, quickly, thinking that maybe the swirling image of me might snap them out of The Madness but to no avail. "Awwww… That dress is so fairytale cute! Where did you get it?" Nope, the illness was probably terminal.

"My Mum made it," I told the girls and Aaron who didn't seem as interested.

I couldn't help but watch Mum swell up with pride, like a slowly inflating balloon as Lilly praised her, "Really? Wow, Mrs. Taylor, that's such an amazing dress! Gemma's going to steal the whole show dressed like that."

"Nicole was supposed to wear it but she had an asthma attack before the night and couldn't do it. So, I'm just refitting it for Miss. Fussy here," Mum gestured to me, as if I routinely demand to look perfect.

"It's so intricate! Did you do all the sewing yourself?"

"Yes, took me months. But it's a labour of love. Just seeing one of my daughters wearing it will make it all worth it," Mum smiled as she imagined the scene.

"So, where were you today?" Aaron asked, thankfully breaking The Madness conversation, which may have lasted days without intervention.

"She was sick," Mum butted in, "But she'll be right for school soon, wont you?" It sounded like a thinly veiled threat to me but I'm sure the others didn't hear it that way.

I looked at Mum, showing her that I acknowledged her threat but refused to kowtow to it. "As soon as I'm feeling better," I groaned, using my best sick voice.

"It's just not the same without you," sighed Alana as if we had been friends for decades and not just three weeks, "Plus you're missing out on tons of Deb practice."

"It's OK," smiled Aaron, I liked his cute little smile, "I can come 'round and teach them to you whenever you want." I liked Aaron, he was charmingly sweet with a shade of nervousness behind him. He was also painfully cute, but I was trying my best to ignore my feminine urges these days, they made me ill. Plus he was Lilly's boyfriend and definitely a 'Hands-Off-Boy' as the girls liked to call them.

To be honest, I liked the A-Group Girls a lot. People 'lower' than them always saw them as snobby, vapid bitches that did nothing but plot to steal boyfriends and wear slutty clothes. But the truth was quite different, they are sweet and caring and kind of astonished they are considered the 'cool kids'. Are there bitches in the A-Group? Of course there are, but as I had noticed, bitches came from all walks of life. I wondered if people were aware how sweet they really were if everyone would idolise them more or less? I hoped more, I feared less.

They stayed for a drink and I watched them sit down. Lilly sat close to her boyfriend and they clutched hands tightly. Maybe she knew I used to have a crush on him but she probably didn't know that I currently was in a world of depression and didn't care much for cute boys. We talked about Sydney, well, they asked questions and I answered in as few words as I could. "Sounds like you left that town in your wake, party girl," teased Alana.

Lilly's brown eyes sparkled with the thought of stars, "We all saw the pics in the paper, Gemma. You're a full-blown celeb now!"

Annoyingly, Mum was finished fitting my dress and I could have taken it off, except for the visitors who wanted to talk for 'just a bit longer'. "And next you're going to shine at the Deb!" Alana grinned, "It must be such a fairytale for you!"

"Is there a Prince Charming coming up next?" Lilly giggled.

"Umm…no," I stated quite clearly, "I don't think so." I saw a vision of the dystopic future; me, Alana and Lilly all pregnant at the same time complaining about our swollen feet, waiting for our husbands to get home from work. I knew both Lilly and Alana have grander plans than that and so did I, but the vision was scarily clear.

My friends were sweet and gracious, and the conversation was fun and bubbly. I acted like my usual self and they would have never suspected a thing. We had talked for so long that Mum had gone to bed. I sighed as the door finally clicked shut and my friends laughed into the warm, overcast night. The house was deathly still and I was finally alone to wallow in my self-pity. It's impossible to wallow around people having fun, especially when that fun is contagious. A few times during our conversations I had actually forgot that I was miserable. But as soon as I was alone I knew the truth — I hated myself.

I sulked all the way to my bedroom and swung the door open. The room felt cold, even though the night itself was warm. I shivered as I walked inside, the mirror reflecting the truth: I was a cute girl in a princess-like dress. I hate this body and I hate this dress! It was brutally painful that the dress looked so good on the body, which also looked spectacular. It was confusing to hate something so beautiful, it was like hating an sunset.

The dress seemed to mock me. The way it shimmered like moonlight, illuminating my breathtaking curves, the intricate sewing that made me look like an angel. Everything that made it exquisite made me furious. I pulled it off over my head, recklessly, not caring if it got damaged and threw it on the floor. There was no way I could face the mirror anymore, my naked feminine body would only enrage me further. I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. Why couldn't I love myself? Everybody else does. People love Gemma! People who only tolerated Michael or barely knew he existed love Gemma Mae. She was the nation's Sweetheart… But I hated me. I liked Michael, dull as dishwater, old Michael. Not this giggling floozy that hungrily sucks cocks.

Gemma took my body away. My life away. Sure, she was having fun but at what expense? My life. She had taken my life away. My body away from me. Well, two can play that game! She's not the only one.

As if possessed, I rubbed my eyes in frustration and rushed to my draws. It was so obvious what I had to do. I ignored the buxom reflection as I searched through the draws. I knew exactly what I wanted but I didn't know where to find it. It wasn't the in top draw. Nor the second. Where was it?!? I searched the top of my desk and there it was, under some stupid blue top.

There it was! I held it in my hands. I knew what I was about to do was terrible but it had do be done. Sure, some people would be hurt but I had to get my revenge on Gemma. The light glinted off the metal in a menacing way, as if it knew what I had planned for it.

It was wrong, it felt right.

I kneeled on the ground, not smiling nor frowning. This wasn't something that I was going to take pleasure in but it was something that needed to be done. I took the scissors in my hand, and opened the blades. I used to call scissors 'Hungry Crocodiles' when I was younger because they looked like the jaws on a crocodile. Mum used to make me laugh whenever she helped me cut out something by making a 'chomp chomp' sound.

But this crocodile was strangely silent as it bit down on the supple white flesh of Gemma's Deb dress.

****

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story is amazing. Thank you so much to everyone who has ever e-mailed or commented, it means a huge amount.

Kate Draffen (Chapter 34)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

Annette, Gemma's Mum and Dot all come to Gemma's aid.

CHAPTER 34

It lay in shreds on the floor. As dutifully as my mother had made it I had destroyed it. There were strips lying on the floor like shards of glass. I cried uncontrollably at the mess I had made and the mess I was now in. In my mixed-up head cutting up the dress had seemed like a perfect plan but I looked down at the puddle of satin below me and no problems seemed solved at all. My pain hadn't subsided and I was still as female as when I had started. Sure, I had destroyed the girliest thing in my life but I had destroyed so much more than that; I had destroyed a dress my Mum had poured hours upon hours into. My Deb was only a few weeks away, much too short a time for my Mum to recreate that dress again. I felt despicable.

"Mum," I gently shook my sleeping mother.

"Mmmmgh," she rustled.

"Mum, wake up!" I pleaded with her.

"Hmmgh, what is it Gemmy?"

"I need you," I sniffled.

Mum fumbled for the switch on her reading lamp and sat up. She looked at me with concern, I hadn't woken up Mum with a problem since I was like 5, so to be woken up by your topless, near-adult teenage daughter was reason enough for an instant panic. "What is it, Gemma? Are you OK?" I couldn't answer I could only sob; heavy, uncontrollable sobs.

"Gemma, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Please tell me!" Mum pleaded.

"I…" I tired to say something but the tears demanded priority, "I did something bad."

"Gemma, take deep breaths. Everything is going to be OK now."

"You hate me," I moaned, letting everything inside me out.

"Of course I don't hate you. I love you. Why would you think I hate you?" Mum wrapped her arm around her crying daughter. My mother always made sure she looked her best, so it was very rare that I saw her without her make-up. She looked older to me, wearing an old T-shirt and no make-up, but she also looked more caring.

"I cut it," the confession made my eyes clenched shut, "I don't know why I did but I did."

Misunderstanding me, Mum forcefully grabbed my wrists and looked them up and down. "What did you cut? Gemma? Tell me what you cut!" she was forceful and commanding. She was concerned about me.

I stopped crying long enough to tell her, "Your dress." I awaited the shouting, the screaming and quite possibly the hitting. I clenched my eyes shut very tightly and held my breath. I was about to get everything I deserve. But you know what, none of it came.

"My dress? You mean your Deb Dress?"

"Yes!" I bawled. I felt my Mum tense up a little and I held my breath again awaiting the barrage of anger to come barrelling towards me.

"That's OK, Gem. If you don't want to do the Deb all you had to do was say so. It's just a silly dress, I had no idea you felt this way. I love you, sweetheart I would never do anything to hurt you. I'm so sorry." It was weird that my Mum was now apologising to me, especially when it was me doing the confessing.

Mum's arm around me became a full on hug. She squeezed me tight and I felt secure in her arms, despite her being only an inch taller than me. "But I want to want to do the Deb, Mum! I want to love being a girl! I want to love myself again!" It may have been confusing but it was true, although I currently hated being a girl I knew the best way out of the problem would be learning to love my new gender, and for a few fleeting moments I already had. The heady difference between Kate Draffen and I was that I wanted to get better; I wanted to learn to live this way while Kate wanted some non-existent miraculous cure.

My Mum can be remarkably sweet when she wants to be. "Gemma, you're lucky. I've found loving you to be the easiest thing in the world for me to do. Since you are so special and so caring and sweet it's impossible not to love you. I love you all the time even when I'm asleep. All you need to do is look at you and you'll love yourself again, soon. We're going to get you through this Gemma!" She rocked me gently like the way she must have done when I was just a baby. She hummed slightly as I just cried in her arms. Even as teenager I felt safe and secure in my mother's arms. "It'll be OK," she whispered, "Annette's coming tomorrow."

And she did. I heard the taxi pull up and hurried click-clack of her high heels. I couldn't understand why Annette wore high heels all the time; she was already tall enough, she positively towered over me. I guess she thought it made her look more professional, but in that case who decided that high heels were a 'professional' look? Must have been a guy. Annette had been coming only once a week for a little while, since I had been doing so well, but I had an inkling after I opened up about my feelings she would be coming around more often.

"Hi Gemma," she said as I was opening the door. Her messy brown hair was held up in a bun and her glasses sat plainly on her nose. I hate to admit it but I was glad to see her. Annette was here to help me and I was going to do my best to get helped. There was a first time for everything.

"Come on in please," I was as usual cordial around her but I was never really natural. As human beings we never really saw eye to eye. Maybe that was because I was always rolling my eyes at her but this time I was willing to work with her. She was the country's leading gender reassignment psychologist and had already written like 3 papers about me, not that I was bothered to read them. But it was hard to say that she was doing a good job considering her two patients were both doing quite badly.

"How are you, Gemma?"

"Not too crash hot, Doc," I whined as I sat across from her at the kitchen table.

"Your Mum told me you were feeling quite depressed and you've been acting withdrawn," she told me, looking concerned. "Tell me what you think happened."

Annette loved saying things like 'Tell me about…' and 'What do you think about….?' Anything that I couldn't answer 'yes' or 'no' to. I talked a lot about Kate Draffen — "At first I didn't think she was right about anything at all, she seemed so hate-filled and unsympathetic. But I finally started to understand her, it's not natural that I was adapting so quickly. I was only a month in and I was wearing party dresses and panties with lace trim, Annette!"

"You were progressing really well before you met John Draffen. Why is a smooth transition such a bad thing in your eyes?" I really hated that term 'smooth transition'.

"Because what made me me is disappearing, you know? I was losing myself in a sea of other people's expectations. I was dressing pretty to impress my Mum, I was chasing after boys to impress my friends, I was acting all girly to fit in. But Michael was drifting away slowly."

Annette arched an eyebrow, she always looked like she was in deep thought. I wondered what she was like as a girl my age. She was either the talkative know it all who had much more awards than friends, or she was the quiet bookworm who befriended the characters in Jane Austen's novels, either way she didn't really know much about peer pressure. "Why did you think you had to live up to what other people wanted?"

"I don't know," I fiddled with a stray fork left over from breakfast, "I was confused. I didn't know how to be a girl so I was taking lessons left, right and centre."

"What do you mean 'how to be a girl'? Gemma, we've been through this, there is no right and wrong way of being female." And she was right, I guess. In my lifetime I and met thousands of females and none were 'doing it wrong'.

"I guess I just wanted I wanted to fit in. I'm such a freak already and I thought if I acted like a quote unquote real girl, I might be able to fit in easier. And look at me now, I'm a fucking walking-talking girl cliché!" I crossed my hands across my chest defensively.

Annette spoke in a calm, soothing voice. I'm pretty sure the first year of studying psychology was perfecting that calm, removed voice. "That's not true, Gemma. You're thoughtful, caring human being and nothing has changed about that. What makes you think you are such a cliché?"

"Oh, I don't know! The fact that I was going to do my Deb, the fact I get a major crush on any cute guy who looks at me."

"I know these crushes must be confusing, Gemma. I always thought that girls can fall in love in a fraction of a second. That sort of emotional reaction must be scary for you. But the truth is you are a 17-year-old girl, and girls your age tend to be a little boy-crazy."

"I don't want to be boy-crazy!" I snapped, finally letting some of the anger shine through, "I loved liking girls! Look at me! I have a body that I should totally be attracted to. But of instead of liking it for what it is, I like this body because I know I can use it to get guys! That's pretty fucked up, Annette!" I banged the fork on the table.

"Gemma, you are beautiful girl. I saw the photos from the Dolly Magazine and you looked tremendous and yes, a lot of boys would be attracted to you. But you should just follow your heart. Do you think homosexuals are sick?"

"Of course not," I replied.

"And you're right. They aren't sick; they are just living naturally based on their inner feelings. Stop and really think for a moment. What are your inner feelings saying? Do you find boys attractive?"

With permission, I let my mind wander. I pictured Tyler's lightly muscled body, his thick, strong arms, and his cute devious smile. I liked the picture in my mind and let it linger for a while. Lately, any thoughts of attractive men had been discarded as quickly as possible but I actually enjoyed exploring my thoughts. Tyler was a gorgeous specimen of man but my mind cycled through a selection of them. I liked how powerful they seemed, so strong and able to protect me. "Yes, I like boys." It seemed like simple statement from a pretty girl that she liked boys but it almost seemed profound to me, as if this was a step in the right direction.

"There was no wrong answer to that question, Gemma. There are plenty of girl who don't fancy boys at all and you are no more or no less a girl because you like boys."

"But liking girls was so much fun!" I reminisced.

"Liking boys doesn't mean you can't like girls. Sexuality isn't a black and white thing. Think about it again, do you like girls?"

I opened my mind once more and got ready for some deep exploration. I pictured a typical 'hot girl' with blonde hair and big boobs. She was looking fairly cute until she started morphing into me. I shook my head and like an etch-a-sketch and the slate became blank. OK, brunette, slim, athletic body, cute bum. She sat in my mind and I prompted her to walk around, she complied and I watched her walk. Nothing was giving me that warm feeling that thinking about guys did so she undressed for me. Still nothing. She looked at me disappointedly as she faded away.

"No, I don't think I like girls."

"And that's OK. I know it still might be confusing to you but you seem to be a heterosexual female. Does that scare you?"

I thought about it, "No, my preference doesn't really scare me. I'm attracted to men."

Annette smiled, "Good. I think a healthy thing to do would be to talk about these feeling with your friends. It can be quite liberating to just air out sexual thoughts you have been thinking every once in awhile. And I get the feeling you don't really want to do it with me."

I laughed, Annette often surprised me with how perceptive she could be.

"You want to do what?" asked Dot with a surprised look on her face.

"Well, I wanna talk about boys, Dot. I've been suppressing thoughts about boys for so long and my doctor said it would be good if I talked about the with someone."

"So you showered, got dressed, walked all the way over to my house so we could talk about boys?"

"Don't make this harder than it already is, bitch!" I laughed nervously, "I just need to vent to someone and I picked you, my very dear friend. You should be flattered."

"I am, I guess. Why don't you want to talk to Alana and Lilly and the rest of the other cock hungry sluts?"

I sighed, Dot really had it in for my other friends. "They're not cock hungry sluts," I defended them, although my protests wouldn't change Dot's mind at all. "Be nice to my friends, OK? They don't hate you at all. I came to you because you are my best friend. I need this talk, it's going help me get used to being me."

"OK, if a few awkward minutes of conversation about cock is going to save your life, I'm only too happy to oblige, Gemma Mae."

Usually Dot's house was the base of operations. It was where I spent a large amount on my life, talking and mocking each other through those difficult teen years. The primary reason for it being home-base for our friendship group was it was walking distant from both Glen's and my houses, but she also had the nicest TV (before Mum went big screen). So it was weird coming back to Dot's house the first time as a girl. Mr, Newsom looked at me weird when he opened the door. "Gemma?" he asked.

"Hi Mr. Newsom," I smiled. I had forgotten that they were still a lot of acquaintances in my life I hadn't come face-to-face with. A million family friends and friend's families had yet to have that awkward first moment with me. Something to look forward to, I guess. Mr. Newsom was a well-read man, that's not usually the first attribute you assign someone but it truly was his defining feature. He ran the town's public library and it was obvious that he took his work home with him. Bookcases lined every wall of the house and every shelf was crammed with books. There were even books on top of the bookcases, reaching as high as the ceiling. Unlike Mr. Newsom's workplace, Dewey and his crazy system had no rule here.

"Well, hello there Gemma. I suppose it's a bit of a 'long time no see' situation, it's been awhile."

"A month," I told him, "Is Dot in?"

"I believe Dorothy is reclining in her bedroom." Yes, he said 'reclining', and not even in an ironic way, he always talked that way.

Dot's room was also full of books. As if it was hereditary she had inherited her father's insatiable love of reading. Whenever she wasn't at school or hanging with us, her nose was buried deep in a book. She wasn't reading when I cane in though, nor was she reclining. She was doing her homework. Dot appeared to be the wisecracking, sarcastic rebel outside of her room but the truth was she wanted to achieve so bad. She did more amounts of homework than anyone I had ever known or ever conceived of, and on top of that she was the smartest person in our entire year level. She had big plans and there was very little to stop her from achieving them.

Dot went and got me a drink, half apple juice/half orange juice in the Marvin the Martian glass (my usual), and I looked around her room. Annette was right, there was no right way to be a girl. I always though of Dot as feminine but her room wasn't covered in frills and lace. The walls were blue, the bedspread grey, no dolls or Teddy bears to speak of and yet this room felt like a girl's room.

***

Dot put me on the spot, "So, let's talk about boys then."

"Umm…," I looked around the room, "I don't know how to start this."

"Well, you find them attractive. How does that make you feel?" Dot inquired as she sat at her desk.

"Dot, you sound like my shrink!"

"Gemma, my problem is I'm about as experienced as you are at talking about boys. I don't really have any girl friends to talk about it with. You and Glen are my girl friend substitutes and I couldn't really talk to you about boys, could I?"

"You can now. I'm all ears now." There was a palpable nervousness in the air. While we had talked about sexuality of a purely superficial level and we'd even had sex before, Dot and I had never really, truly talked about sex.

"Well," she breathed in, holding back a million thoughts, "I like boys too, Gemma. I like being held by them and feeling protected and I like how different they are to girls and I like the satisfied feeling of having a cock inside me."

"Whoa!" I laughed, "You just went from one to a hundred in one sentence!"

She blushed a deep crimson colour and looked away, "Sorry! I told you I didn't know how to do this!" Seeing her blush like that gave her a fallibility that was so rare in her. Dot suddenly seemed like the 16-year-old she was and not the 30-year-old she wanted to be.

"I like boys," I admitted for like the 30th time, "I can't help checking them out as they walk past me. It sucks because most of them don't wear tight clothes like girls do, so it's trickier to ogle them. But I find it's not just their bodies I'm interested in — it's their voices and the way they treat me and how interested they are in me and their personalities..." I could have gone on forever about what intrigued me about my old gender.

"Guys are so much more visual than we are. You can't just masturbate over a picture anymore, I bet. You need a whole fantasy now, a romantic scene and hot guy, right?"

I thought back over my masturbatory experiments my pussy and I took part in. It had taken longer to reach climax and I did have to use my imagination a bit more. As a guy I did employ fantasies a fair bit, I must admit but if I just needed a quick wank, the posters around my room would suffice. I'm not sure pictures of hot guys would aid me in quite the same way anymore, I needed the fantasy. "Right."

Dot seemed even more intrigued with the conversation than I was. "Do you play with yourself more or less now?" she asked, leaning forward as if I was about to reveal the meaning of life.

"Umm…," I tried to do a little math in my head, "About the same. Maybe a little less, but that's mainly because I've been either absolutely depressed or super busy. But when I'm neither feeling down nor busy I'm getting down and getting busy," I giggled nervously, it felt so wrong yet liberating to talk like this, "Let's just say in one month I can't count the number of times on one hand but I can on two."

"So you use two hands?" joked Dot. I just rolled my eyes at her. "Do you really see yourself ever having sex with a guy, Gem? I know I joke about it a lot but do you see yourself being female in every sense of the word?" I hadn't told her or anyone about my encounter with Tyler yet.

"Ummm…," I stalled while I tried to think of what to say and reminiscing about my time with Tyler, "I think so. I mean I'm a girl now for the long haul. I'm sure there will be a time when I'll be comfortable enough to let a guy…"

"Oh my God!" Dot clasped her hand over her mouth in surprise, "You've already done it, haven't you?"

I gawked back at her in equal measures of surprise. How did she know? "Huh?" I feigned complete and utter innocence.

"The way you were smiling when you answered the question! It was such a knowing smile! I saw the same fucking smile from you when I mentioned feeling satisfied when being filled." She crossed her arms triumphantly as if she had deduced who the murderer was at Miss Tallyworth's Tea Party.

"I wasn't smiling at anything!"

"You're smiling now!" she proclaimed, "Gemma Mae Taylor! I cannot believe you! Hot-to-trot sexpot, right out of the box!"

"Shut up!" I tried to laugh it off.

"Who was it, hey? Your Deb partner, Aaron Lekakis? Was it Kev? Tell me, tell me!" she was giddy with suspicion.

"Nobody, no-one, no guys, Dot! Your intuition is all screwed up!"

That answer didn't satiate Dot at all and she continued hypothesizing, "It was in Sydney, wasn't it?" She gazed at me with a piercing look, as if she had the power to stare right into my brain and see my memories. I tried to stop thinking about in case she could read my mind. I tried to think of turkey, used-cars, ABBA, anything to put her off track.

"Dot!" My protests were becoming weaker.

"That's why you were all screwy when you came back, yeah?"

"OK!" I broke, I felt the barrier I had carefully constructed in my mind come crashing down, "But you HAVE to promise not to tell anyone!"

"My lips are sa-sa-sealed!" Dot mimed locking her lips and throwing the key away.

And so I opened up to someone. I told Dot everything. How I flirted with Tyler, how I reveled in his kiss, how he broke it off and then how I snuck into his room. She listened intently, her once cynical eyes growing bigger and bigger with every detail.

"Wow Gemma!" she said once the whole sordid story was finally finished, "I don't know if you cause all this drama yourself or you're just unlucky!"

"I transformed into a girl and you're wondering if I brought this all on myself?"

"Fair point," she said, sitting on her crossed legs like an excited kindergartener, "But what happened next? What did he say to put you in this depression you're in?"

"Nothing, he was really nice the next morning. But I freaked out when I got my period and that's when I realised I didn't want to be a girl anymore."

Dot walked around the room, almost like a short feminine parody of Columbo, "So, when did you realise you didn't want to be a girl? After the massive party celebrating you? Or after a gorgeous gentleman gave you a mind-blowing orgasm?"

"I never said it was 'mind-blowing'!" at least I didn't think I used that term.

"Gemma, you practically had another one just talking about it!"

OK, I had gotten a little excited about it, sure, but it was fun telling someone all the dirty little details. "I think it was all just too much for me. Something in my brain snapped. I'm not supposed to be a girl."

"Who says?" asked Dot.

"I don't know! God? Science? Genetics?"

"And yet you are one."

"Yes," I thought out loud, "Yes I am." I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. Nobody but the mentally deranged would categorise me as a boy anymore. It didn't matter that I wasn't wearing make-up, or girls' clothes or a bra, I looked like a girl. Hell, I had a vagina! I am a girl! I might not like it all the time but I didn't like being a boy all the time either.

I gave the reflection a sly smile, a sort of an 'everything is going to be alright' kinda smile. I still had a long way to go, but talking to Dot was doing wonders. It felt great to be so honest with someone and not hide behind expectations. I didn't have to be anyone's idea of a 'girl', I was already a girl and I could be whatever I wanted.

Despite my revelation Dot didn't stop talking, "So, Tyler's been a total jerk since, huh? Not called you or anything? Bloody men."

"Actually," I began, still sticking with honesty, "He's tried calling, I jut haven't picked up yet."

"What?" Dot slapped my hand like I was a disobedient dog, "Gemma Mae Taylor!" Dot really loved using my full name, "No wonder you have major issues! I'm pretty sure you need to talk to him."

My plan to that point was to avoid Tyler until either he or I died. "Why? What can he say?"

Dot looked at me with disbelief in the eyes. "I don't know! That's why it's so important to call him!"

"Gemma, he's just a guy," I said as if I was suddenly an expert at being a girl, "He'll just say anything to make me feel better, thus letting himself off the hook."

"Let himself off the hook? Gem, you snuck into his room and gave him a head job while he slept. I'm pretty sure you are both responsible. And what do responsible adults do?"

"All the adults I know just keep avoiding their problems until they go away," I explained.

Dot sighed, my life wasn't as filled with as many upstanding adults as hers was. "Well, perhaps you set an example for them then. Call Tyler tonight or face the consequences!"

"What, pray tell, are the consequences, Dot?" I asked my best friend.

Dot squinted thus telling me her threat was deadly serious, "I kick you in the vag fucking hard."

***

Each ring seemed to echo into the night. I was positive that every person, lying in bed waiting for one day to end so that another one just like it could take its place, could hear the blaring ring of my mobile phone. The reality of the situation was that no-one in the houses either side of me as I walked home could hear it at all, I had the earpiece jammed against my ear so hard that no one but me could hear the phone ringing. Me and maybe Tyler.

Each ring made me wonder why he hadn't picked up yet. If he was so damn anxious to talk to me he would have answered by now.

1 ring- OK, so he's not sitting by the phone waiting for me. That's OK.

2 rings gone- Maybe he was angry with me? How dare he! If anyone should be angry with someone, it should have been me angry with him.

3 rings pass- Ignoring me, huh? Well, two people can play that game. I'll never answer a call from Tyler Douglas James Perry again, even if he was on fire and I was a fireman (or firewoman or fireperson or whatever they call girl firemen!)

4 rings and still no answer- Maybe he's with another girl? I bet I was just another notch in his belt! I'm just pussy to him. He's probably ignoring this call while he's pumping away on some other 'lucky' girl.

5 rings- That's it! I'm hanging up!

"Gemma?" said Tyler.

"Umm… hi." I was surprised how much I sounded like the old me when I used to call a girl I liked and she would answer the phone, almost like I was surprised that the thing I wanted to happen actually happened.

"Thank God! How are you?" There was an audible sense of relief that made me rule out the thought that he was currently pumping away on top of another girl.

A little anti-climatically, I said, "Good."

"Gemma, I am so glad you rang! I've been worried sick about you. You weren't answering your calls. I talked to Dr. Fischer today and she said you were a little shaken up after your trip to Sydney but she wouldn't say anything else. Is everything OK?" He didn't take a single breath is saying all of that.

I think everyone has a moment in their life or maybe several where they start crying and they aren't quite sure why. I don't know why but I started crying with Tyler on the end of the phone, maybe because he really seemed to care about me or perhaps because all the grief of the last couple of days came rushing out of me all at once but I bawled. "I…I'm just so…so ha…ha…ha…happy that you're not mad at meeeee!" I said through my sobs.

"Why would I be mad at you, kiddo?"

I tried to start the sentence a few times but my bottom lip would quiver too much and force me to start again. "Because," I eventually heaved, "because I didn't answer your calls and I snuck into your bedroom when you told me not to!"

"Gemma! I'm not even slightly mad at you, I'm just happy knowing you're OK. As for the night we spent together, it was honestly one of the best nights of my life. You made me feel so special."

"Really?" my lack of self-confidence kicked in, "You really mean that?"

"Seriously, I mean it. The much more important question is: How do you feel about it?"

I had reached home and was quietly sneaking pasted Mum's room so my voice was little more than a whisper, "I was kinda shaken up about it all at first but now," I closed the door of my room, "I think I really enjoyed it. I mean you were so gentle and tender, I don't think I could have asked for a better first time." My mind was now a sexy mash of memories and fantasies.

Tyler's smooth voice came out of the earpiece and into my waiting ear, "We really made a great team, kiddo."

"Really?" I asked, bucking up.

"Really. It's a shame you don't live here."

"And I'm not old enough," I reminded him.

"Yes," he laughed, "I keep forgetting that because you are such an old soul. So what are you doing up so late on a school night?"

"I'm my own boss, mate," I joked in a harmless, flirty way, "I'm rich now, so I do what I want."

"Wow, you really are a naughty girl!" Even though he was just joking around his chastising me made my nipples harden. My free hand rubbed them through my top.

One of the great things about being female is the extra pleasure zones around my body. These perky little nipples and the large breasts that they hang off of are primarily there to dispense milk for my potential offspring. But it was like God said, "She's gotta walk around with those huge melons all day, everyday? Better make them supersensitive and fun to play with!"

"Tyler, you're not allowed to be my boyfriend, are you?" I sounded like a lovesick teenager for the very simple reason that I kinda was one.

"Would but if I could, little one but you know the risks — the firm would fire me, the press would go ballistic… people would think that I was taking advantage of you."

"But you wouldn't be!" I protested, "I'm practically an adult! I'm old enough to make my own choices!"

"Maybe in a few years, when you're older we can get away with it. But too many people would raise too many eyebrows." I knew what he mean but I couldn't help picturing some-one with twelve eyebrows raising ten of them in disapproval.

"I'm not so sure how my Mum would cope either. She's kinda got an eye on you."

Tyler said, "Really?" like he was trying to choose me or my Mum. Gross!

"Tyler! She's too old for you! She's like 40!" OK, maybe she was 35 but still…

"And you're too young for me, little princess! If your Mum is anything like you in the sack…"

"Ewww… heaping amounts of gross, dude!" People never liked to think about their parents having sex, especially with their own recent sexual partner.

"I'm kidding!" he reassured me, "I'm kidding."

"You're so lame!"

There was pause in the conversation as if it was changing streams. "Do you know what's so sexy about you? I bet you don't even know."

"What?" I giggled timidly.

He told me, "Your voice."

"Tyler! Don't tease me! I know I sound like a chipmunk!" My voice was something I was a little sensitive about. While I could ignore my body by not looking down my tiny little voice came out whenever I opened my mouth.

"Well, if that's the case I have an unhealthy attraction to chipmunks!" he laughed.

"Well, I have an unhealthy attraction to morons!"

"Was that me? Am I supposed to be a moron?" He asked in a mock-hurt way that cracked me up. Believe me it was funny the way he said it.

"Yes!" I squealed falling into peels of laughter.

Good naturedly, Tyler laughed along. He had a smooth, rich laugh that made him sound more rugged than he actually was. It was laugh designed of an older time, for a chuckle between puffs on a pipe, all the while swirling a glass of port in his hand. I'll just say it turned me on, immensely. "Very funny," he said derisively, "So, kiddo, can I ask what you're wearing?" The schizophrenic mood of the conversation veered back to sexual.

I could have lied about my attire but I honesty was the policy of the day. "Ummm… just a light grey T-shirt and some baggy tracksuit pants. Really sexy!" I laughed.

"And what about under that?" he probed.

"Well, no bra," I purred, wondering if he would find that sexy and then I remembered what else I was wearing. "And a pink lace thong…" I coyly squeaked.

"One of these things are not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong," sung Tyler. It was the old Sesame Street song but he sung it slow and sexy. "What's with the super sexy panties, Missy?"

"I'm celebrating," I confessed quietly.

"Celebrating what?"

"My period ended last night."

The sexy mood suddenly dropped. "Wow… congratulations! How was it?" I love how earnest he was about it too. He knew it was a big deal to me.

"Not too bad actually," I admitted and it was true. Mum says that us Taylor girls are blessed with very mild periods, it was a small blessing but one I appreciated.

"So Little Miss Taylor decided to put on her skimpiest, sexiest little thong to celebrate, is that right?" I could almost hear his imagination running riot.

"Uh-huh…" I lifted the elastic band on my pants and peered down at my incredibly small panties. They were severely pink and ultra lacy, a one-two knockout punch to what was left of my masculinity. "So, what are you wearing?" I asked as I gently rubbed myself through the thin pink material.

"Well," Tyler explained, "I was asleep on my couch when you called. Had to run and grab the phone from the bedroom when you rang. I'm just in my boxers." I pictured his ripped body and shivered with pleasure.

"Mmm…" I moaned as if he was describing a delicious cake. There was a noise from my end of the phone line so explained it to Tyler, "That's the sound of me taking off my sneakers and pants, if you were curious. I mean it's not fair on you that you're talking to me practically naked and I'm all dressed, you know?"

"It's that sort of rational thinking that makes you so sexy."

"Sure, I totally believe it's my rationality that you're thinking of while your stroking your cock." I couldn't believe what came out of my mouth and I was glad that Tyler couldn't see the look of utter surprised on my face.

"Wow Gemma. You're so dirty! I just can't stop thinking about how you woke me up the other night with you hot, juicy lips wrapped around my cock." Tyler one-upped me. I never used to be competitive, but since I became beautiful and successful and a little attention needing, my competitive streak was hard to suppress.

"Too bad it was just a one time thing, isn't it Tyler?" I teased him for making a very rational, very mature decision. Not the most adult thing to do but it was fun.

"Why? What would you do to me?" He was now caught in the web of my feminine wiles.

"Well, I love the taste of that big meaty cock of yours. So I would start sucking that right away," I purred. This was the start of phone sex. I knew what was happening and I didn't find it alarming or revolting — I was excited!

"Yes, good girl. Would you look up at me with those big green eyes of yours while you sucked? You looked so pretty when you did that."

"I wouldn't take my eyes off you!" I moaned.

My legs involuntarily spread as I scooted the panties off to one side. I teased the velvety folds of my soft, pink pussy with my fingers as I listened to Tyler. "Well, when you were done, I'd play with those pink, little nipples of yours. Twisting them, tweaking them, kneading those big fluffy pillows. Are you playing with your nipples now?"

Despite my nipples threatening to rip holes out of my T-shirt my mind was somewhere else. "Well, more of the focus is between my legs actually."

"Oh really?" questioned Tyler, "Well, I would love to play around down there, let my tongue explore your damp caverns."

That sort of talk really got me going. Our little tryst was too short to involve any cunnilingus and a large part of my mind wondered what that would be like. "Would you go deep?"

"As deep as I could go. I bet you taste as sweet as you smell." From his staggered breaths it was obvious that he was as horny as I was and was taking care of it in the same way.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah," I moaned. I pushed my index finger into my waiting pussy. It was a poor substitute for Tyler's larger penis but it still felt great to be penetrated.

"My baby is playing with herself, isn't she?"

"Mmm hmmm," I confirmed his suspicions.

"Well, don't feel the need to talk. Just listen to my voice, Gemma. After licking your sweet pussy into a sexual frenzy, I'd stop. Your hips would buck unconsciously begging for penetrations. You're a sweet girl with dirty compulsions, Miss Taylor."

I drifted off into a dream world as Tyler painted me a very graphic picture of what he would do to me. It made me so aroused that I almost booked a plane for Sydney then and there. Each word was more lust-filled and erotic than the last. I said nothing but yelped little squeals of passion. A part of me knew what I was doing was wrong. But wrong and right had changed around so much lately I had no idea whether to listen to that part of me anymore. It was hard to know if Annette would approve of this or not. Anyway, I wasn't going to tell her.

Tyler was trained in the art of using words well, so it's no surprise that he had me gasping in pure bliss within a few short minutes. Two stiffened fingers thrust in and out of my warm slit with reckless passion. "Tyler!" I yelped as the warm blanket of the orgasm washed over me. "Arrgh!" I moaned. It seemed like each orgasm was better than the last these days and I wasn't upset with that at all. As I screamed I thought I heard Tyler grunt too. The thought of me getting off was getting him off.

"Wow! I didn't expect that to happen when you finally called back," Tyler gasped.

"I know, it kinda just happened." The truth is nothing just happens. He wanted it and I guess, secretly, I wanted it too. I reclined on my bed, hugging my breasts with one hand and holding the phone to my ear with the other.

"I think we share a strong sexual bond," he told me. He could have just as easily said 'I love you' and try and trick me into more sex but he was honest. "But it's not going to work out for us at the moment. I couldn't be your boyfriend, not for a few years anyway."

"I know," I sighed, "But can we keep fooling around like this? I really, really enjoy it. Annette's always imploring me to go out and experience new things. And it'd be fun having someone as gorgeous as you to experiment with."

"Gemma, we can't have a casual thing. You are all the way in Marrang, I'm in Sydney. You might get hurt!" It was almost like a threat. Like a promise that he would cheat on me.

"And then I'll learn stuff about getting hurt! It's all experience, Tyler."

"Gemma, you know plenty about pain already with all that you've gone through. You don't deserve another droplet of pain for the rest of your life and I certainly don't want to be responsible for any of your suffering. You're too special to me." It was confusing to my schoolgirl brain, if he liked me so damn much why didn't we want to be with me?

"So, this is another one-off thing again?" I asked glumly.

" 'Fraid so, kiddo," was the reply.

"This is the second one of those… The second one-off thing." I thought it was important to point out that fact to him.

"And there won't be a third one-off thing, either," Tyler told me.

"You sound so sure of that, Mr. Perry," I said in my best femme fatale voice, "As if you had the power to turn me down. I'm pretty sure you're addicted to me."

"And you sound pretty sure of that, Missy. I can quit you anytime," he retorted. I liked it when we teased each other like this. This sort of to-and-fro was what I wanted in a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. I lay back on my bed and pictured how awesome we would be together, joke-fighting and making love. Damn, I wish I were older!

"Am I still invited to your Deb Ball?" There was the proof that he was still addicted to me right there.

The truth was I was still unsure if I was Deb Ball bound myself, but I wanted to see more of Tyler. "Ummm… Of course you are. I'll keep you posted on the details."

"Goodnight my little filthy princess," he bid me adieu.

"Sweet dreams guy who is obviously addicted to me."

He added a little "Speak to you soon," before we hung up. I knew he wasn't my boyfriend but it sure felt like we were going out. I plugged my phone into it's battery charger and flicked through a few pictures I had taken with it. Me in Sydney. Tyler in Sydney. Me and Tyler in Sydney.

Well, according to the clock the day was almost at an end. Only a few more minutes had to flicker and burn and then this day would only be know as 'back then' and 'before'. As each day disappeared into the ether of memories I realized that I had been a girl for another 24 hours. I stood up and looked at my slightly dishevelled image in the mirror. Today I talked to Annette about some of my problems and she sent me to Dot, who sent me to Tyler. One of my major problems — the question of my sexuality — seemed to be answered now.

I was a girl,

who liked boys.

And I wasn't too upset by that at all.

I was feeling better about myself. I still had some ways to go but I had taken the first major step.

****

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story is amazing. Thank you so much to everyone who has ever e-mailed or commented, it means a huge amount.

Kate Draffen (Chapters 35 + 36)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

Gemma goes to a 'boys only night' and prepare for her big night at the Deb.

CHAPTER 35

Even though I had three of a kind it was obvious they were staring at my pair.

I had been taking Annette advice's for the last couple of days and by all accounts it was making me feel a lot better about myself. Although her advice did lead me here, Glen's rumpus room on a Friday night with a table of guys staring at my tits. OK, maybe did my bra was doing a tremendous jobs of lifting them up and pushing them together and my top was doing little to conceal that but the amount of staring made me think the someone was projecting movies onto my tank top.

Annette had prodded me into hanging out with an all male group to see how I would react. In fairness, I had been hanging out with a lot of women (her, Dot, Mum, Nicole, Alana and Lilly) and she thought it would be good for me to get some male company. However considering some of the guys here wouldn't even know I had a head that existed above my boobs, perhaps this wasn't the type of company she was thinking of. It was Glen's semi-regular poker game and aside from me, the only girl in the room, there was Glen, Kev and Glen's two older ogre-like cousins - Simon and Trent 'Ollie' Oliver.

Simon and Ollie made me feel tiny even back when I was a guy. Ollie, 19 years old, was 6'7 and he actually took pills to impede his growth so who knows how much taller he would have ended up. At least Simon, 20, had the decency to be only 6'4. Not only did they block out the sun with their height, they also threatened to throw the earth off its orbit with their colossal weight. Ollie was over 160kgs, he was over three mes! Some of his clothes had to be specially constructed; I say 'constructed' because 'made' doesn't sound as epic enough.

Anyway, the Oliver brothers were Glen's cousins and for some reason he quite liked them. Only having two bratty, much younger cousins who I never saw anyway, I never saw the appeal of cousins. But Glen's extended family were very close so I guess his liking of his cousins is to be expected. Although I'm pretty sure most of his friendship is the residue of him being 7 and really enjoying going to their farm to ride on their Peewee motorbikes. But those days were long past and the Oliver brothers were jerks. Rev-head, lecherous, slow-witted, ogre-looking jerks. Jerks who were staring at my bountiful chest.

Glen's semi-regular poker game was something he had started last year. Sure the popularity of poker was on the wane but Glen was never a slave to trends, or more accurately he was a slave to trends but one who was much too slow to keep up with a slave-master. Sometimes we played twice a week and other times months would pass between games. Glen was never the greatest leader. The rules were easy:

Rule 1) Everybody put $10 in

Rule 2) Whoever won all the chips at the end got all the money

and
Rule 3) No girls.

I think the 'no girls' rule was so that we could bitch about Dot but it also gave the Oliver Brothers and Kev a chance to see who could be the most misogynistic. I had never heard as many different words for vaginas in my life compare to when I was in Glen's rumpus room. But suddenly coming face to face with the new me, a creature possessing a 'hairy axe wound' had temporarily silenced the room.

I gleefully scooped up the winnings, painfully aware of the cleavage I was displaying while collecting my chips. "Thank you gentlemen," I teased my fellow players as I had won a particularly large pot, "I will add this to the pile." It really didn't seem fair that I was about to win $50, considering my vast wealth already.

"So, any word on when you will come back to school?" asked Kev. It was Friday and I had missed the whole week and since I was in Sydney for half of the week before school was becoming a distant memory.

"Yeah, I'll be back on Monday," I chirped. Annette was really doing a nice job with me. Everyday I was getting a little more confident in my own skin and I was feeling less and less morose. I don't know if it was me or if it was her but suddenly I didn't find her patronising, she really seemed to want to help me. Life was getting better everyday.

The boys had nicely lifted the 'no girls' rule for me to join them in their game. I guess having been a boy for 17 years was enough for them. The game was enjoyable even if the conversation felt a little stilted. Being a girl had changed every single relationship I had with people. Nobody treated me the same and try as I might I couldn't help but notice. "I think I might put the air con on," Glen said, "Gemma, are you hot? …I mean is it too stuffy in here for you?"

"It's OK," I shrugged. Glen had become my little protector as soon as I had stepped into his house — offering me drinks, giving me the comfy chair, getting me some fruit when I asked for it. He never used to do that sort of stuff for me before and we were best friends. He was so courteous now that I was almost surprised that he didn't pull out my chair for me to sit down.

Kev was still Kev. He was still a total perv but at least he was a harmless perv. With Kev you knew he was mentally undressing you but he'd be doing it to any girl sitting in front of him so I never felt threatened. He looked pretty hot with his bulging muscles and his cheeky smile. He was much too sleazy to actually date but he was fun to look at.

That was one of the things that still freaked me out; finding boys I know attractive. It was a surprise every time it happened — I'd look at a guy I knew, something inside of me would speak up and I would suddenly see him in a totally different way. Luckily I didn't find either one of the Oliver brothers attractive, not one bit.

"Bought your magazine today, Gemma," Kev told me, "The pictures are great!"

"You bought Dolly magazine?" I asked in wry disbelief. Actually I was just teasing. The Dolly magazine with yours truly on the cover was selling really well here in Marrang, mostly because everyone knows me. But I did get an email from Jan, my editor saying that sales were really, really good everywhere else too.

"Because you are on the front cover! I don't do it every month! The pics on the beach are really hot!" I know there's a lot of exclamation marks there but that's how Kev talks, like every sentence is more important than the last.

I gently ignored the 'hot' comment, "Yeah, I was really happy with how it all turned out. Did you read the article or my column yet?"

"Umm…," Kev scrambled for an excuse but faltered, "Not yet."

"You just read Dolly for the pictures?" I teased him with a cheeky smile.

"Give me a break, Gem! I just bought it a few hours ago and had a quick flick through." Glen asked Kev if he brought it with him and Kev grabbed his bag and threw Glen the copy. I watched my big grinning face go flying past me through the air. Although Mum had bought like five copies I had successfully avoided it. Was I curious? Of course I was, I wanted to know what pictures they used and how much retouching they did. Was I embarrassed beyond the point of mortification? Oh yeah.

"Whoa! Looking good!" Glen proclaimed, "I mean, you look like a real model." I don't know what he expected to see.

"Modelling isn't that hard," I said modestly, "It's all about being put in weird positions and pretending that it's normal and comfortable."

"Wow... you got to play with puppies!"

I laughed as I remembered the fun I had with those little lovable balls of fluff, "Yeah I did."

"Hey ladies, are we here to read Dolly magazine or play poker?" snorted one of the brothers. It appeared he was not interested in Dolly's '41 beauty tricks for cheap'.

Glen put the magazine to one side and started dealing. The brother's eagerness to play poker had assuredly drained the room of the jovial mood. I absentmindedly adjusted my bra strap and look at my cards. Along with the rest of the world we played Texas Hold 'em so I only had two cards to examine. I never really took the game too seriously, it was just a good chance to chat with Glen and Kev, however as Gemma I always found myself to be a lot more competitive, especially when I am competing with a couple of girl-hating ogres.

"So Michael," I gritted my teeth upon hearing Simon use my old name, "or whatever your name is now, what's life like without a dick?"

"Why don't you tell me?" I snapped back right away. It was childish but it got a laugh but not from Simon, of course. He blushed a little by being trounced by a girl so quickly.

"Nah, I'm serious. It must be weird being a girl and all." OK, so although he was all types of offensive he was actually more curious than insulting. I had come across this behaviour before, guys who were actually interested in my story but had trouble trying to relate to me. He was still a chauvinistic dope though.

"Umm… it's not that bad, actually I'm kinda liking it," I summarised my entire experience with one short sentence. And you know what? That's a pretty accurate description, I was enjoying being a girl. I blew a bubble with the gum I was chewing and looked at my cards.

"Better than being a dude?" Simon asked.

"Not better," I reposed, "Just different."

The more massive of the two brothers, Ollie spoke up, "If I got Pussy Envy, I doubt I'd be able to cope, I'd have to kill myself. No way would I be able to walk around with boobs."

Glen leapt to my defence. It was interesting to watch him slowly get more and more riled up as his cousins embarrassed him. "Dude," launched Glen, "You've got man-boobs! Fuck, they're bigger than Gemma's! Just shut up and play cards!" In Ollie's defence, they were fairly big man-boobs but they didn't compare to the melons I lug around.

The game continued as the silence hung painfully in the air. This wasn't the fun 'guys only' night I had expected. The fact I was a girl changed everything, instead of teasing me, Glen acted as my protector and the Oliver brothers now seemed scary and huge instead of stupid and huge. Maybe I couldn't do 'guys only' things anymore or maybe these were just the wrong guys to do it with. I smacked my gum and wished I were somewhere else.

"So are you a lesbian?" asked Ollie.

Before I could answer (not that I really wanted to) the pimpled man beside him spoke up, "It said on the TV that her sexuality changed, you saw that!"

Ollie wasn't having any of that, "So what, Simon? TV isn't always right. I find it hard to believe that nanobots could make someone start lusting after dudes."

"Well, that's what happened. Lost my sex drive for a week, when it came back it was going the other direction. I mean look at you boys," I teased, "What's not to like?" Surrounding me were some of the sweatiest, fattest, most oily, nerdiest boys I had ever come in contact with, the only one I was mildly attracted to was Kev and his muscled body but I'd never tell him that. It was reassuring that my lust for men knew some bounds.

Specks of Doritos flew through the air as Ollie spoke, "Then I bet you were a closet gay before you changed."

Being called gay is an insult where I come from. I don't know why and I don't know why I get annoyed when someone supposes I am or was gay. I guess years of primary school and secondary school taunts of being gay just sort of meld into a ball of unpleasant memories and even though the concept of being gay doesn't bother me at all, the word just has a nasty tinge. "No," I say adjusting that damn bra strap, "I wasn't gay in the slightest, just like now. Girls don't appeal to me at all."

A slimy grin dripped onto Ollie face, his yellowing teeth greeting the crowd gathered in Glen's rumpus room. "So you need a big old cock to satisfy you?" he said, as if all he needed to do next was offer his and I would pull down my panties and hitch up my skirt and let him 'satisfy' me. I was not comfortable here. I was a girl. I was small. I was vulnerable. While I knew I was safe, it didn't make me feel any safer around the massive lumps of men that were the Oliver brothers. They were huge and I wouldn't be able to protect myself from them if they tried to overpower me. Were they going to overpower me? Probably not, they were dickheads but they weren't that horrible. But being around them made me think that someone their size could, and I wouldn't be able to stop them.

So, it wouldn't surprise you that when Kev offered to walk me home I agreed. With sex a permanent fixture in his mind I wasn't surprised by the comment, "You're walking more like a girl. I mean your arse sways when you walk." Recently, I had been practising a 'sexy walk' for no other reason than it made me laugh but I wasn't utilizing my 'sexy walk', this was just normal walking he was commenting on.

"I walk like a girl because… shock horror… I am one," some people needed a little reminding now and again.

"I know that but is that walk an affectation or is it real?"

I thought for a second as I walked, maybe my walk had become more womanly; it was probably because I was finally feeling good about myself. "I think it's real."

A street light flickered and the crickets were on page 40 of their symphony tonight. I felt safe with Kev beside me. "And why are you wearing a skirt?" he asked. I knew it was only a matter of time before brought up me wearing a skirt and I was actually surprised that it took someone this long.

"Because I'm becoming the girl I want to be and I'm not letting anyone dictate what is right for me," I stated. Well, it was less my statement and more a direct parroting of what my psychologist, Annette, had been drumming into my head all week. I didn't need to feel pressures from anyone to act a certain way, I can be whoever I want to be. I saw the nice, long, summery dress hanging in my wardrobe and I felt like putting it on. I liked the way it swished around my legs as I walk. I liked the way it almost covered as much legs as my trousers and yet it was so breezy. I liked my skirt and no longer felt any shame about it.

"So, it's true. You actually factually like being a girl, don't you?" Kev asked me.

"It's complicated. Gender isn't my whole world and just because…" I couldn't be bothered finishing my rehearsed answer anymore, "What the hell! I do like it. Kev, being a girl is kinda fun," my hand went to my shoulder to adjust an errant bra strap, "Except for this fucking bra strap! Stop slipping down already!"

"Wow, take a chill pill, Gem."

"This damn bra strap has been annoying me all night!" I said, admonishing my bra.

Kev suggested, "Take it off"

"Ha Ha," I laughed sarcastically, "Fat chance!"

The weather was nice and warm as we walked. Perhaps this summer had decided to never give up and never surrender to winter and his crony, autumn. I hoped that was the case because I didn't like autumn at all and had even less fondness for winter. Winter would tease me, leaving the beach just outside my back door but keeping the weather chilly enough to much swimming a fool's game. Not saying that I wasn't a fool, just I preferred when swimming wasn't such a challenge.

I looked over at Kev, his strong biceps aglow underneath the unnatural light of the streetlights. Like his brother, Kev was a good-looking boy, from well-bred, upper-class stock. I felt safe walking beside him, but not as safe as I would be wrapped in his manly arms. When thoughts like that whizzed through my brain I knew that I had one too many mixed drinks. "Gemma, I'm going to make you a little proposition," Kev said confidently, like he was trying to sell me real estate, "You don't have to answer right away but I want you to think about it. Since you are finally enjoying your new gender, I was wondering if your sexual urges get to strong and you need someone to…"

"I'm not going to have sex with you, Kevin Madden,"

He shrugged, "It was worth a shot." His mood didn't change one bit; rejection did not deter this man at all.

"Well, I'll give you points for trying," I smiled as I gave him a squeeze on his shoulders.

Kev was unstoppable. "Are those points redeemable for sexual favours?" he asked with that unmovable glint in his eye.

I sighed, I really wanted Kev to get laid but I wasn't going to be the girl to take the bullet for our gender. "Kev, you're a good looking guy. I am sure there are other girls out there who would be willing to have sex with you."

"I guess so," Kev sighed, with an air of defeat, "I just thought since you used to be a guy you'd understand that guys want sex without going through with all the romance stuff. I mean, it's not like your not going to get any enjoyment out of it."

It was an interesting way to look at sex, as just a pleasurable but ultimately harmless entanglement of two people's genitals. I must admit, I had thought of sex in such a way when I was guy, but now things were different. "Yeah, but sex is very personal thing for girls. For you, you're just pushing yourself into someone. But girls have to allow someone inside of our special area. I now get why girls are so picky about sex."

"Plus babies," Kev added.

I cringed at hearing the 'b' word. "Oh yeah, that too. No way am I planning of having a baby anytime soon."

"But you want one eventually?" Kev asked thoughtfully.

I imagined a world where I was pregnant. It seemed a far off and peculiar world, but much more clearer now that I had a working uterus. Babies were scary and I had brushed off thoughts of children ever since I had the equipment to build one. "Umm… maybe, I don't know. Being a girl has allowed me to really connect with Mum and I'd like that sort of relationship one day, I think, with my own daughter or something." The baby world suddenly came into sharp focus and I saw myself as very happy with a little baby girl on my knee until I pictured how it got to be there, "I don't know, I get all maternal sometimes and then I look down below and the idea of giving birth freaks me way out. I've seen newborns and they are much, much bigger than my … you know. Don't think about my 'you know', you pervert!"

Kev looked hurt, "Gemma, we were having a sweet moment, talking about your Mum. I'm not always thinking about dirty things." I knew he was picturing my pussy, I just had no way to prove it.

The banality of our little city's landscape was beautified by the sound of crashing waves nearby. That's what made living in Marrnag not only bearable but enjoyable, knowing that most people had to set aside a whole special day for 'a day at the beach' meanwhile all we had to do is turn left at the end of the street. I would miss this place when I left.

"I realised something tonight," Kev said, clearly not thinking about the beach as much as I was.

"What's that?"

He talked matter-a-factly, as if he had just made a scientific discovery, "You're not one of the guys anymore. You really changed the mood of the game tonight. It's really hard to talk about girls when there is one in the room, even though we all know you used to be a guy."

It hurt to hear that, even though I had come to the same conclusion. I didn't feel like 'one of the guys' anymore, and why the explanation of why seemed simple, I think it was a lot more complicated than my vagina. "What about Dot?" I said to Kev but also to myself, "You seem very able to talk about girls in front of her."

"She's different, you forget she's a girl," Kev replied, "But you're sitting there cross-legged, in your skirt and you're giggling and you smell like a girl. It's off putting how girly you are. Dot is just Dot. Don't take this the wrong way," warned Kev, "But I think you are more girly than Dot."

I looked down at my fashionable, female clothes. "I should hope so," I laughed, "Look, I'm just trying to be the person I am inside and it looks like I'm not a 'one of the boys' girl. It's mildly upsetting but I don't think I was much of a 'one of the boys' boy anyway."

"Good point," Kev smiled. He got it.

We cut through the park, it cut a lot off our walk and I would have thought nothing of it before. But now every large tree looked like a hiding spot for a rapist and every hedge a home to a murderer. I walked a little closer to Kev, as if a foot closer to him would be the difference between raped and totally fine. If I wasn't a teenager and thus very concerned with looking cool I might have held Kev's hand. "Thanks for walking me home, Kev," I told him and meant it.

"It's only a little bit out of the way," he said, obviously not noticed the fear in my voice and the fact I was now whiter than the suburban picket fences surrounding us.

I looked up at Kev. Man, I was even shorter than I thought! "I know but you make me feel safer. It wasn't until I came face-to-face with Glen's cousins that I realised how puny and helpless I am. I mean, it wasn't face-to-face, more face-to-knee. Look at these muscles, Kev," I flexed my stick-thin arm and no discernable muscle appeared, "I've got nothing."

Given the fact that Kev will usually flex his arms whenever given the opportunity, I am impressed that he didn't feel the need to compete with a girl half his size to see who has the biggest muscles. Instead, he plays the chivalry card, hard, "Well, I'll protect you milady."

"No real need to," I told my noble, if a little dim-witted knight, "That's my house there."

"So it is," he said.

I gave him a quick hug as a thank you and said, "Good night, dude."

"Sweet dreams, Gem," Kev wished, but Kev couldn't go that long without mentioning sex so the last thing I heard as I walked down my steep driveway was, "The offer still stands by the way."

CHAPTER 36

Annette's counselling had done something to me. Every morning when I woke up I felt positively charged. I almost bound out of bed, I sing in the shower and chatter pleasantly over a light breakfast, then it's time for a quick dip in the ocean before a shower. What a wonderful start to the day! I turned off the taps and the old pipes groaned in pain. I shook myself dry like a dog and laughed as my boobs wobbled uncontrollably. I then squeezed them and rubbed them together as if I was prepping two defibrillator paddles. I looked down at my cavernous cleavage, even after all this time I was still impressed with my bust. "Echooooo!….Echoo!…Echo!" I called out.

I looked at my selected outfit for the day and pulled on some panties. Panties were weird, they weren't much more than a scrap of material. I know girls (me included) don't have much to cover down there, but I was always surprised how small my panties really were. Almost not worth wearing. My jeans also seemed to be made out of little more than scraps because I had to jump up and down and wriggle. If I had to blame anything it would be my rounded, well-padded rear, because as soon as it got past my buttocks it fit fine around my tiny waist. But in defence of my bum it look particularity nice squeezed into the jeans.

The top I threw on was cute too. Cute, without being too trashy. It was like a loose boob-tube, elastic around my chest just bellow my armpits, nice flowing cream material and then elastic just above my belly button. Since I didn't want a bra strap showing or anything, I went braless. I know, I'm such a rebel! I even removed my studs for the first time and carefully put on some simple silver hoop earrings. My make up skills were getting fairly good, although I always opted for the less is more model.

Why was I spending so much time on looking good and at the same time, very casual?

"Hi Gemma," Aaron said as I opened the door for him. He was sweaty because he had ridden his bike all the way here and he probably pushed himself hard.

"Ready to dance?" he asked me. Aaron had arrived to catch me up on all the Deb practises I had missed out on. For weeks, while I was away in Sydney and away in depression, he had been dutifully dancing with himself so that he could help me catch up when I came back. And here he was his incredible Greek body (well, half Greek) glistening with sweat. From the look of his arms he could lift me over his head easily and I wanted to go on that ride. I knew that he was going out with one of my best friends, Lilly and I knew that Tyler and I were going through something together but Aaron was my first crush and I would always feel something for him.

I ushered the cute guy inside, his manly musk tickled my nose in a pleasant way. "Don't you want to sit down for a while first? Have a drink? You look puffed."

"Yeah," he confessed, dropping his macho act slightly and wheezing.

"We've got water and we've got orange juice," I called from an open fridge, "But that's about it." Even though we were rich, our fridge was still rather barren. The juice wasn't even a decent brand, it was a cheapo one. I guess old habits die hard.

"Water would be great."

I poured him a glass of water and plonked two ice cubes in for good measure, classy I know. Aaron accepted it gracefully and gently sipped it as he sat on our couch. "Wow, I forget about your giant arse TV," he gestured to the odd-item-out in our lounge room, a huge state-of-the-art wide-screen TV.

"A little overdone, perhaps but how else are we supposed celebrate our new found wealth?" I shrugged. He laughed they way proper friends do. "So how is Lilly going? She said that you two were going on a date together last night." Lilly was teaching me one of the key tenets of being a girl — talking on the phone for an exorbitant amount of time. I knew precisely what she wore on the date, mainly because I had to convince her that purple looks good against her Eurasian complexion. I also know that she would allow him to touch her boobs underneath the bra and even let a rouge hand down her panties, whether Aaron took advantage of that I didn't know.

"The date was good, actually. Not sure if she likes the exact same type of movies as me, but that's OK, I'll bite the bullet and hire popcorn flicks with her and watch the Arthouse ones by myself." I wanted to tell him that I'd happily watch Arthouse movies with him but didn't want to break the girl rules by flirting with another girl's boy. I had my own boyfriend, sort of. A sexy, funny, strong guy who continues to claim that our relationship is a long string of one-time-only events. Aaron was every bit as stable as Tyler was skittish.

"Lilly really likes you. I shouldn't be saying that but I know guys want a peek behind the curtain of 'Girl world'. Also she thinks your best feature is you cheek bones and she thinks you slobber just a little bit too much when you kiss."

"Duly noted," Aaron said and gave me a warm smile, "I like her, you know? She's my first girlfriend and I was really scared about dating an A-girl. Every guy in school want to go out with you A-girls and suddenly one of them wants to go out with me, it's pretty daunting. I'm so used to being the 'friend' to girls that I didn't know if I could even be a boyfriend."

"Well, you seem to be doing a good job."

"Thanks. That was one of my motivations when I was working out continuously; to get a body that would get me noticed by girls. I guess all that work paid off, huh?" Aaron's dramatic transformation from fat guy to hot guy was almost as surprising as my change. It would have been absurd to think last year that Aaron and I would end up being two of the most attractive people in our year level.

"Looks like it," I smiled.

Aaron leaned toward me. "I know all girls say they love a guy with a sense of humour but what they really mean is a hot guy with a sense of humour. I was just as funny when I was fat."

That seemed a little unfair to me. Lilly maybe be a little shallow but she was one of the nicest girls I had ever met. She always looked after me. "OK, fair enough but you're the one dating Lilly, one of the prettiest not one of the funniest girls in school, so you can't say looks aren't super important to you too."

"Ouch! Good point, I am shallow," Aaron hung his head in defeat, "But it's not like Lilly isn't a great girl, she is. She's fantastic and I love spending time with here. So there!" It was nice seeing Aaron be so honest about his feelings. Even though I think we would have made a great couple (at least a damn fine looking couple) I was happy to see how much he actually liked Lilly.

"I know she's great. She's one of my best friends. But you're not here to talk about her, you're here to teach me to dance!"

I tired to be a good student and for the most part I was. Our lounge room was much too small for proper dancing and we kept bumping into our couch or bookcase. But with the help with an extra long extension cable we were able to relocate to a much more open area — outside. "Wow! Nice backyard, Taylor," Aaron surveyed the small patch of grass that turned into the beach.

Dancing outside wasn't completely problem free, beach walkers could see us, the flies seemed to want to join in and the sun was relentless, but other than that it was very pleasant. Aaron caught me up on the routines, telling me directly what to do and holding me very close as we danced. I felt like such a girl, being held tight against my partner, one tiny hand enclosed in his, the other rest on his shoulder. Plus he was leading, a massive sign that I was the female in this duo (also a sign I had missed too many rehearsals).

"No, your left, not my left." We spent as much time laughing as we spent dancing. He would stand on my foot, I'd go to do the wrong move at the wrong time or he'd make up silly lyrics to the dinky old songs we had to dance to. Aaron was a great companion and a great dance partner. It would be a lie to say that one great reason to dance with him was his ripped body. I could get as close to it as possible and there was nothing wrong with that. I'm sure he got a thrill from me pushing up against him too, the chemistry was palpable. But being the nice guy that he is he didn't try and cheat on Lily, even though I am sure you caught me taking lusty gazes at him once of twice.

After only an hour or two, he proclaimed, "Well, not only are we up to date, I'm pretty sure we're better than most."

I thought about the other couples at the Deb. Only one couple did I think we were in direct competition with, "How about Holly Morissey and Trent Sobey?" How Holly had treated me, calling me 'a selfish and self-absorbed thing' on TV, had not faded from my mind. There were a lot of people in the world who thought I was a freak but Holly's opinion of me hurt the worst.

"Morissey and Sobey suck!" Aaron gleefully informed me, "I mean, Holly can dance but she's practically dragging that caveman around. Plus no one's talked to her since her little TV appearance. Nobody thinks that you should be barred from the Deb Ball except for her and Donna and Tracy, so everyone a little cold towards them."

"That's sad," I said and I meant it. Holly wasn't a horrible person; she just didn't think I was a real girl, always saw me as a freak, from day one. She tried to reach out to me which was a lot more than most people that wanted me burned at the stake but she just couldn't see me as the girl I now am. Hell, even I couldn't get used to it until earlier this week.

"That's enough dancing for one day. Wanna go for a swim?" I asked Aaron excitedly.

He looked at the glistening ocean with hunger. "I didn't bring any togs," he bemoaned, "I didn't know you guys lived right on the beach."

"Just wear your jocks," I suggested in a 'don't be such a sook' voice.

Aaron pulled back the elastic waistband in his pants and inspected his underwear. "Yeah," he thought out loud, "I could get away with these."

"OK, come inside, help yourself to a drink," I spluttered like an excited 8-year-old organizing their first sleep over, "I'll run to my room and get changed in like two minutes, capiche?"

"Sounds good to me."

Black one-piece or pink bikini? It had never been a question before. I had always worn my black one-piece, except for that one time I couldn't pack it in my backpack because it was wet. That was the only time I had chosen to wear the small, revealing, and utterly feminine swimming outfit. But I was now proud of my body, Annette had taught me not to be ashamed of my gifts. I could easily squeeze into the bikini and feel proud of what I was putting on display but the black one-piece was a comfortable and modest alternative. Well, it wasn't that comfortable, it was a little snug in the chest and it was next to impossible to take off when wet.

The real question was: Do I want Aaron to think about having sex with me? That's what the pink two-piece seemed to be designed for, it cleverly highlighted my sexy areas at the same time of covering them. He is a big boy, I thought, he could handle a little bit of overt sexuality. God know I have to watch him without his shirt on. My loving big sister Nicole chose this bikini for me the first time we went shopping together, I never though I would ever feel comfortable putting it on but I actually got a thrill from pulling up the tight pink material over my flat female crotch. My eyes bulged when I looked at my hindquarters in the mirror, I didn't know it was cut so high on my bum. Ah well, caution to the wind!

"Hey loser, let's go!" I teased Aaron as I threw him a beach towel. He caught it and sprang for my couch, like he had been waiting for this moment his whole life. That's one of Aaron's best qualities, he boundless enthusiasm. I had discovered that the best way to look sexy was not to prance around like I was the nanobots gift to men or to hide myself behind my towel, sexy was casual confidence or at least feigning casual confidence.

I felt Aaron's eyes on my body, just for second. He was too much of a gentleman to stare slack jawed at me but I did see the excited look in his eyes. Lilly was very beautiful and exotic looking but she didn't have the base 'tits and ass' sex appeal as this body did. Aaron's eyes gently examined my tight tummy and slowly rose up to my cleavage where they rolled around merrily. Perhaps in an effort to quell his ogling or perhaps the lure of the sea was just too much, Aaron bolted outside and towards the water.

My boobs bounced chaotically as I ran after the super excited Aaron. "Stop!" I squealed in a pitch that was probably too high for him to hear, "I can't run!" Protectively, my hands reached up to act as a temporary bra, allowing me to pick up a little speed. By the time I had reached him Aaron had already laid out his towel and was in the process to revealing his tight torso to the world. I took a sharp breath of surprise, he was totally ripped! Next he timidly and cautiously took down his shorts, reveal his grey jocks. They were obviously not bathers and clearly a tight pair of cotton boxer briefs. As he stood up I secretly tried to admire his bulge. It seemed like he was gifted there as well and I was filled with a longing. He was going to make Lilly a very happy woman eventually.

The water was cool and the company cooler. Aaron was a great guy who was friendly without being pervy and handsome without being conceited. Our affable, playful little romp made me forget I was wearing a Boner-Factory bikini and I actually probably exhibited some casual confidence without faking it. He splashed me. "Ah!" I squealed and threw a handful of water back in retaliation. And the ensuing battle continued to escalate as he then splashed me back, it hit me on the chest causing my nipples to swell up. I didn't care that he could see my nipples through the flimsy pink material because I could see his easily, on his manly chest. I pushed him over, head first into an oncoming wave, the feverous sea froth crashing down on Aaron.

He came up out of the water, coughing and spluttering with revenge on the brain. I saw the look in his eyes and squealed and tried to run away. Aaron's stride was much bigger than me and caught me very quickly. He leapt into the sea, grabbing me in the process. We became a tangle of appendages, arms, legs, heads all intertwining. The wind was knocked out of my sails in all of the thrashing and I couldn't breath. When I can't breath, especially underwater, I always panic. My only goal was to get my mouth above the water so that I could breath but my plan involved splashing around madly and squealing. Luckily, Aaron did not mistake my flailing about for an invite to play and saw it as a desperate clawing to safety. He easily picked me up and rubbed my back, calming me enough to breath.

"It's OK," he said gently, "You're safe!"

It annoyed me that he probably thought he was a stronger swimmer than I was. I was a much better swimmer, it was the fact the one of his rogue appendages had knocked the wind out of me had caused me to panic. I hugged my savoir/potential drowner tightly as I took short, shallow breaths. I felt tiny as I clutched his massive body. I looked up at his dreamy large brown eyes and enjoyed the feeling of being helpless, for just a second. If he let me, I would live in Aaron's arms.

I suddenly realised where I was — comfortable in the manly arms of one of my best friends' boyfriends. I wriggled free with a, "I'm OK! I'm OK!" and made sure he was at least an arm's length away, there was no ways our lips would touch by accident. It was touch-and-go for a second there. I was missing Tyler, my boyfriend who isn't really my boyfriend and Aaron looked absolutely delicious. I took another step back so that I couldn't grab Aaron at all. "I'm OK!" I repeated.

"Uhh, Gemma…" Aaron pointed at his chest, well-formed and nice-and-hairy. On his command, I checked it out, his fanatical workouts had turned him into a picture of good health, a true stallion. I had been ogling his gorgeous body for ages now so I was a little unsure why he would be pointing at it. "Gemma," he repeated, again gesturing at his chest. It was something to be very proud of, but his incessant pointing seemed arrogant. Maybe he wasn't the sensitive sweetheart with less ego than body fat. "Gemma," was he repeated message but the gesture was different this time around.

He was pointing at my chest.

I craned my look down and saw boobs.

My boobs.

Totally uncovered.

Rolling and wrestling in the water must have made my bikini top fly off. Hastily, I 'hand-bra'ed myself, a hand over each nipple and blushed a whole new shade of red. I looked around, our house was a fair way from the main beach so that meant it was usually pretty secluded. But knowing my luck and whole team of endurance swimmers would be swimming by to catch a glimpse Gemma Taylor in the all together. Luckily, it appeared we were alone.

"My top!" I squealed, my voice drenched in embarrassment. My head swivelled madly, searching the ocean for a thin piece of pink material. Since I had spent so long coughing up water my swimsuit could have drifted anywhere. A week ago I would have panicked, perhaps even cried here in the middle of the sea. But I was a new Gemma Taylor, confident in whom she is. No need to cry over spilt breasts.

"You owe my a new top!" I said, still cupping my boobs.

"Yes, yes, yes. I'm so sorry. I can't see it anywhere," Aaron looked around like a mad man.

"Deep breaths, Aaron. It's OK," I said, "It's nothing. Just a silly top. If this was Europe I wouldn't even wear one, I guess." I was still a little sheepish; making sure my hands covered both nipples.

Aaron faced the shore and took a few fleeting steps towards it, "So, that cuts short our little swim."

"We just got here!" I complained, "Look dude, I'm not going to let a little thing like a missing top stop our little swim. Aaron, look at me." I slowly let my hands drop to my sides, unleashing the twins to yet another pair of men's eyes. "They're just boobs. You've got the net, I'm sure you've seen boobs before." He laughed nervously. It was cute to see the confidence knocked out of him and to see him revert back to the shy chubby kid. "Whoooo! Girls gone wild!" I mock-hollered, raising my hands in the air and letting my round, fleshy globes wobble in the air. Aaron laughed, he must have seen the same late night ads.

I must confess, having boobs was still a novelty to me; they were always right there, they felt nice to rub and guys loved them. They wobbled about whenever I moved and they made a large indent to any clothes that tried to cover them up. I used be to 17-year-old boy and was utterly obsessed with boobs, so that probably explained my fascination. It's like giving an 8-year-old boy his own dinosaur; the novelty isn't going to wear off for a long time.

Splash! I threw myself back into the water and swam further out, deeper and deeper until I couldn't touch the bottom anymore. Aaron followed, thrashing around madly. He wasn't the best swimmer but he was enthusiastic. He treaded water, while I stretched out and floated on my back. I giggled as my boobs floated, with these babies I would never sink. It was like having two buoys attached to my chest. We were past where the waves break so we simply bobbed up and down with each swell.

"This is great," Aaron sounded so relaxed, "I really should go swimming more often."

"You are just saying that because there's a topless girl next to you," I said as a large swell quickly lifted us up and back down again.

Aaron made reference to my previous life; "It's so not fair you've tremendous insight in a guy's mind! You know exactly how to read me." Guys usually never mention that I used to be a guy, especially ones who are attracted to me. I think they like to block it out, imagine that I always was a girl.

"Oh yeah, guys love boobs - that takes a huge insight."

He swam towards me, "You don't feel like a guy anymore, do you?"

We mutually started heading back to shore. "No, not at all. I mean, I miss it sometimes but I don't look, feel or think like a guy at all anymore. I'm content being a girl."

"You should know that you're an excellent girl. I don't know many girls that would swim with me topless." We were in shallow enough that walking was easier than swimming, so we stood up. My majestic orbs topped with nipples swung in the air.

"So what? You're topless too! The only difference between our chests is that, mine is large and fatty to store milk and yours…" As I said 'yours' I gripped his pecs in my tiny hands. He was so fit and I almost melted just by feeling his strength underneath my palms, "yours doesn't have an once of fat at all."

Now, I don't know how it happened but we kissed. I've replayed in my mind a hundred times — I gently stroked his chest, Aaron turned and looked at me, I chuckled nervously, he wrapped his hands around my shoulders, and we kissed. Hate me for it, I know I do. I wasn't supposed to kiss him, he was clearly Lilly's boyfriend. He knew it and so did I but our tongues acted like they had never heard anything about it.

This kiss broke off and we were finally free from the embrace. But as if our lips were magnets we were dragged back, locking our mouths sensually together. Aaron was cheating on Lilly and I was kinda cheating on my 'not really' boyfriend, Tyler. Ever since becoming a beautiful girl, life had become so much more romantic. As Michael I could only dream of kissing a hottie while waves crashed around us. As Gemma, it almost seemed like business as usual.

"God Gemma, you are so hot," he sighed as we touched foreheads but not lips. I stared into his wonderful dark eyes and could see myself. I could see our relationship too, laughing, teasing each other, hugging, kissing. It was so much less complicated than my relationship with Tyler. Just a boy and a girl.

And Lilly.

The ocean seemed to go quiet, the waves stopped crashing and the wind came to an abrupt stop. It's as if Mother Nature was waiting to see what I would do next. "You're cheating on Lilly."

"I know, I didn't mean for this to happen," his masculine arms let go of me, "It's just I didn't know that you could feel that way about me and I guess I was just surprised. I think you're wonderful…"

"I'd say you're wonderful too but we're hurting Lilly. That doesn't make either one of us very wonderful." I felt what I had said. Ever since the transformation I have had scores of people tell me how brave/sincere/wonderful I was and I think I had let a little bit of that go to my head. I was only human and thus, prone to mistakes. I had a lot of lessons to learn about being a girl and some of them had to be learnt the hard way.

"No, it doesn't," Aaron looked straight ahead, avoiding looking my in my eyes or at my boobs, "It was just a silly little mistake, I was surprised you were attracted to me…"

Aaron had always been my first crush, so it was a little heartening to hear him say that. "And vice-versa."

Now that our resentment was known, it was onto the plan. Aaron stated meekly, "I think telling Lilly would be as foolish as the kiss."

The logic behind his comment seemed to be of the 'what she doesn't know, can't hurt her' school of thought. It perhaps wasn't the best way of dealing with this problem, but it was certainly one of the easiest. "It may be the residue of my guy mind but I whole heartedly agree."

The agreement sank in and we silent walked back. My nudity was no longer flirty and fun but a reminder of how we let our libidos take control. We silently collected our towels. I wrapped mine around my chest, tucking it into my cleavage. And when we sauntered back towards the house. I hated how silent we were.

"Aaron, it was just a tiny mistake. It's not going to mess up our friendship, please? I mean, you're like one of my best guy friends and I really need you."

"I'll try not to make things weird as long as you don't," Aaron stated, "Just please for my sake, next time wear a top."

I let my eyes play over his handsome sculpted body. "Same goes for you, hunky!"

I slid open our back door and we stepped into our lounge room.

"Gemma, forgot we had a little meeting did you? I tried calling you but your phone was in your room," said a voice.

I suddenly blushed a deep crimson, and was amazed there was enough blood in my system to answer, "Sorry Mum. Must have slipped my mind." An awkward moment hung in the air like a blimp. I looked at the room, I thought the best way to deflect attention from me was to introduce people. "Ms. Cross, this is Aaron, he's my Deb partner. Aaron, this is Victoria Cross, she's one of Australia's best fashion designer. She's designing my Deb dress."

"Aaron darling, you hitched yourself to the best wagon," Victoria didn't bat an eye as she looked at two barely clothed teenagers, dripping wet, "Gemma is going to be the most breath-taking young lady at the ball."

"Yeah, she is already so beautiful that all the guys are jealous of me," he smiled, "I can't wait to see what happens when you are finished with her. I'm pretty sure she'll end up giving angels a run for their money!" There was just something so genuine about the way he said it that didn't seem corny at all. Aaron really did think I was beautiful and I couldn't help but grin like a simpleton, I just hoped it remained at 'friends'. Aaron looked over at me, "I'll just go get changed in the kitchen then, OK? I'll leave you all to your dress designing, and I'll see you at school on Monday, OK?"

"OK," I squeaked. It appeared that Aaron had scuttled off before I had answered. I didn't blame him because the group and situation was very imposing. My casual confidence had dripped onto the floor like the small trail of saltwater behind me. I had the sudden realization that I was practically naked in front of these people. I hope they all suspected I was wearing a bikini top under my towel.

Mum, Nicole and Australia's leading dress designer Victoria Cross all stared at me from their positions on our couches. No amount of prayer would move their eyeballs from me. I can't believe I had forgotten about my meeting with Victoria. When I was trying to fix the things I had broken recently, the shards of white satin lying in a rubbish bag was priority number one. Even though Mum acted like it wasn't important, I knew it was. There was no way she could make another one in time for the Deb, she works too hard at the pub. But I also didn't want to just buy one from a store, I wanted it to mean something to us. It was then I remembered how special I felt in that adorable yellow dress and how I met the lady who had designed it, and how she was nice and she said that she would love to design something else for me. A tentative phone call later and she was going to fly down here to help me out. And Holly thought her dress was special because it was bought special in Melbourne!

"Gemma honey, get dried, get dressed and come join us please," Mum said in a scolding, condescending fashion. The problem with having your son turn into a teenage girl is that you have to now deal with a teenage girl. That meant a lot different things, including the fact that a cute boy can end up making her forget her duties. I wasn't the only daughter to have that problem; Mum had dealt with Nicole and her boy-crazy ways too.

Picking clothes to wear in front of this country's biggest doyenne of fashion was tricky. For me, a person that even as a girl has no real interest in clothes it was extra scary. It seemed gauche to just stroll of there in jeans and a t-shirt but there was no way I was 'dressing to impress', I wanted to just be me. I'm mean we were friends already, so I could be a little more casual and it wasn't like Nicole or Mum were dressed to the nines.

I unwrapped myself from my beach towel and slid on a bra. It always amazed me how good at fastening a bra I was when I wasn't thinking about it. I called it my 'Girl Auto-pilot'. There was a few things my Girl Auto-Pilot was better than me at; doing up bras, doing mascara, crossing my legs when I sit down and casually flirting. Whenever I tried to focus on doing these things the end product would always end up worse. Girl Auto-pilot used to frighten me a bit, as if one day it would eventually take over, driving my body to always dress pretty and go looking for a suitable husband so that we could start a family. But Annette had convinced me that was not the case.

The top I chose was nice, not too dressy and not just my usual tank top uniform. My length hair was almost into exclusively heavy metal bands and girls territory but still a ways off, but it was definitely a lot more feminine than when this weird journey started. I had let Nicole style it so now it was more layered and looked really good. In the end I went with a thin, summery skirt. Sure, it was the second skirt I had worn in two days but I was no longer concerned of what people thought, I would dress the way I felt like.

"Oh Gem, that top and skirt don't match!" Mum lamented. Letting me dress myself outside the realms of tank top and jeans was akin to letting a 4-year-old dress herself for the first time.

"Mum, don't be so harsh on her," Nicole stood up for me, "But Gemma, it is all a bit of a hodge podge!"

I looked down in attempted shame and squeaked out, "Sorry."

"Don’t be silly, darling," Victoria chimed in, waving her hand about grandly and elegantly, "Fashion is only about experimentation. Without the willingness to try something different or absurd, fashion would fail. It was a noble effort, Gemma." This was the first thing she said to me, no 'hello', this is who Victoria Cross is.

Upon sitting down between Mum and Victoria I saw Victora's sketchpad, they had started without me, long flowing lines outlined a gown that would look appropriate on a Disney Princess. I think I am too short to be Cinderella. "Well Gemma dear," Victoria started warmly but drolly. "Have you been thinking about what you want in a Debutante gown?" The truth was, I hadn't. I think I was afraid to, I knew nothing about fashion.

"Umm, I don't want to be too grand," I said in my tiny voice, "You know, I want to fit in."

"Of course you do," Victoria said with a smile, "I must try and understand that you probably already feel like there's a spotlight following you around 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. For many, many girls their Debutante Ball is a chance for them to be the focus of attention for a moment. But you don't have that desire, do you Gemma?" She scribbled madly, holding her pad close to her chest, deftly hiding her genius.

I am someone who can be keenly aware of her faults, not of all them but a lot of them. Since having a taste of the spotlight I have learnt that I am a glutton for said spotlight. I liked being famous, I liked people saying (nice) things about me. I wanted to fit in, but I still wanted to be celebrated. I'm beautiful and I really like it when everyone around me can see that. "Well, I still wanna look pretty," I meekly answered, knowing my vanity was showing.

"Gemma, it would be impossible to make you look plain. Now your mother has been showing me photos of her original dress, it was very beautiful."

I suddenly felt very guilty and had to avert my eyes from everyone. Nicole had been very angry when she found out, not half as restrained as Mum was. She gripped my stick-thin arm and I yelped when she squeezed. "Oh, that didn't hurt," she sneered dismissively. "Gemma, that dress meant so much to Mum," she said through gritted teeth, "And so much to me. You have to think sometimes! That's always been your problem, you don't think about how your actions are going to affect other people." Now that was probably a valid comment but since Nicole was prone to the same behavior I didn't listen to a word of it. I could see in her eyes that anger was pooling up inside of her. I seriously thought she would hit me. As kids we were always fighting, she was always picking on me, until I grew larger than her, of course. Now I was only 1cm taller than Nicole and a whole lot smaller and weaker, she could easily take me.

But luckily things calmed down, especially after Victoria said she would design dresses for both the mother and the sister of the Debutante. Nothing like designer couture to make women forget their grudges. Mum and Nicole was buzzing all week with ideas for their outfits, as well as mine. I could barely keep up with all the talk.

"Like your mother and sister, you have a very prominent bust…"
I looked down at my 'famous' bust. "Yeah, I'm OK with it now. So, I'm totally fine showing them off," I smiled as I poked one.

"Well, that answers my questions. You also have very nice rounded shoulders, so I was thinking that we could have the gown an off-the-shoulders number. What do you think?" I nodded as if I knew what I wanted.

The scratching of her pencil tightened the tension in the room. "The last dress featured a rather full petticoat. I loved the whole fairytale slant of the dress, do you mind if I keep the full petticoat? I know they aren't 'in vogue' right now, but the princess image really suits you." 'Princess' was a real trigger word for me, I have no idea why but being called a 'princess' made me feel heavenly. I did want to look like a princess, and I wanted a Prince Charming and everything. I know real life doesn't end with a 'Happily Ever After' but I was going to try as hard as I possibly could to get one.

"What do you think of this?" Victoria said as she calmly held up an etching. The figure in the drawing looked like an angel, her flowing long dress and tight bodice working together to create a divine look.

I looked at Mum, she had a tear running down her cheek. So did Nicole.

"It's perfect," I uttered.

****

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story is amazing. Thank you so much to everyone who has ever e-mailed or commented, it means a huge amount.

Kate Draffen (Chapter 37)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

Gemma's story picks up. It's the morning of day of the Debutante Ball and Gemma is already late for a reason.

CHAPTER 37

2 months later

My phone rang. I loved my new phone with all its gadgets and doodads, but it's hard to love something when it wakes you up in the middle of a lovely snooze. I had ignored one too many times, I thought, this time I better pick it up. "Hello," my morning voice croaked out.

"Early, isn't it?" said the voice at the end of the phone.

"You hate early mornings. Why are you calling me at…" I looked over at the clock radio "7.30 in the morning?"

"Well," grumped Dot, "because your Mum rang me at 25 past 7 looking for you!" The blood suddenly drained from my face. "I guess you told her that you were crashing here for the night." I bit down on my bottom lip in a blind panic. "Don't mess yourself, I told here you were here." I took a breath again. "Said you were in the shower, getting ready."

"Oh fuck! Thank you so much, Dot! I owe you big time!"

"No problem," she shrugged it off as if covering for me was something she had to do all the time, "I'm not sure exactly where you are, but as payment you will tell me all. Anyway your Mum told me to tell you that you had to be at Nicole's shop with Alana and Lilly and 9.30 AM. Fucking hell! Do the preparations for your Deb night start at 9.30 in the fricking morning?"

" 'Fraid so. Going to do the whole thing: waxing, hair cut, colour and style, make up, dress up, and then the boys are picking us up in the limo and we've got to be there 2 hours early for photos." I wasn't sure if it sounded like a nightmare or a dream come true. I guess I would out.

Dot, however, seemed to know exactly how she felt about my planned day, "Thank you for reminding me how lucky I am that I'm just coming to watch." I could almost hear her eyes rolling.

"You should come," I blurted out. I had no idea where those words had come from, I certainly didn't think about them before I said them.

Dot was as surprised as me upon hearing them, "I should come? What do you mean 'I should come'?"

My initial shock left me as I thought about my day of pampering without Dot and then my day of pampering with Dot in tow, the second option definitely sounded more fun. "You should totally come and get your hair and make up done with us!" I gushed.

Dot seemed a tad wary of my offer. "With you and the other members of the Pretty Princess Patrol? No thanks, I'd just do that snide, sarcastic thing you detest so much."

My best friend didn't realise that I loved her sarcastic ways. "Dot," I told her, "I want you there being snide and cynical and stuff! Otherwise I'll forget that this whole Deb thing is silly."

"Not just silly, but sexist and pointless and misogynistic…" It was funny how her list of complaints sounded like angels singing in my ears. "Look Taylor, if you're inviting me to join you on the girliest of all days…"

She was going to say no. I knew it from the tone of her voice. But I had a back-up plan. "I'll pay for you," I cooed.

"OK, I'm in. But only so I can make fun of you and the other Booberellas." Dot said it like she was a crazy rock star and this was one of her far out demands. She was missing the point of why I wanted her there.

"That's why you are invited!"

"So at your sister's salon at 9.30?" I was amazed she knew where my sister worked, since she always talked about how little she cared about fashion and hair and stuff.

"Yeppers," I smiled.

"OK, I'll see you then! But you have to tell me where are you and where you slept last night, OK?" Damn it! Dot wasn't supposed to know about any of this!

"What's that? Hsssss…You're breaking up!" I pretended that I was losing her, despite my new phone having crystal clear reception.

"You suck!" Dot saw through my clever ploy.

"Hsssssss…What's that? Hsss… I love you too! Bye!" And with a press of a button, I was rid of Dot. I quickly messaged Mum to allay her fears and put the phone on silent. I didn't want it bothering me for the rest of this wonderful morning.

The curtains were shut tight which kept the morning sun from intruding, the door was locked and now my phone was off, life would have to struggle pretty hard to break into this room and that's how I liked it. "Mmmph," said the other occupant of the bed, "Who was that?"

"Dot, my best friend. I forgot to tell her that I told Mum that I was staying there last night. But it's OK, she can lie with the best of them." Dot was an amazing liar. Knowing that it was easy to spot a Dot falsity but only because I knew her back to front. The same was true with her, she could spot me lying or hiding something from a kilometre off. That's how I knew that I was going to spill the beans to her about where I currently was.

"So we cool?" he asked in his drowsy state.

I kissed him gently, "We are very cool." His lips were so soft and his stubble so coarse that I kissed him again. I felt so serene, I couldn't remember I time I had felt so comfortable. We laid on our backs and looked at the ceiling, "Thanks for coming down to see my Deb tonight. It means a lot to me, you know?"

"I couldn't miss the Marrang Secondary College Debutante Ball, it's the social event of the season!" he teased.

"I know it's silly but I'm silly too."

"You are very silly," he said, shucking the doona and sheets off, leaping up and kissing my naked body all over, "Silly and sexy and beautiful and cheeky and naughty…" Between each word was a butterfly kiss along my tummy.

"Tyler!" I had to stop him before I got too riled up, "I've got to be ready by 9!"

Tyler lifted his head from kissing my belly button and looked at the clock radio. "There's time!" he shouted and resumed kissing me all over.

Things were, and are always destined to be, complicated with Tyler. We talked on the phone a lot. Sometimes he would call and be strictly business and other times not a clean word would leave his mouth. But he was always sweet and asked me thoughtful questions about how I was going. We then starting chatting on the computer, I'd lie in my bed my new laptop and so would he and we'd just chat, sometime with mics, other times just by typing. Then I found the webcam function on my laptop and that changed a lot. We would fool around, I'd put on little strip shows and relish in him enjoying them. Each time, before or after we'd both confess to this being the last time and just a one off thing.

I was so excited to hear that Tyler was coming to my Deb. Almost everyone I invited was coming: Dr. Chisholm, Glen, Dot, Annette, Tyler, Victoria and of course Mum and Nicole. The people from out of town had all booked flights and hotels and were making their way here today, except for Tyler. Tyler had arrived a day early. Tyler had booked a nice room in the poshest hotel in town. Tyler had ordered room service and invited me around. I couldn't exactly tell Mum I was going to spend the night at hotel room with a man 9 years my elder so that's when I told her I was going to Dot's.

Enjoying Tyler's mini-kisses up and down my body, I couldn't help but notice that he must have been enjoying giving them too. His thick hose was hardening before my eyes, swelling in size and length. The sexy thought of him using that on me caused my pussy to get damp in preparation. We had made love together three times the night before and it was amazing. Gone was the trepidation and panic, gone was guilt and worry and gone was Kate Draffen's hurtful thoughts. Tyler and I were alone in the bed.

The extensive path of the kisses led up to my mouth. "Last night was incredible," I whispered as I wrapped my arms around his neck. We kissed again.

"It was," he sighed, "And it's so good not to wake up to you screaming."

I giggled, remembering how bad life seemed then and how truly remarkable it seemed now. I innocently sucked on my little finger, "I'm pretty sure you could make me scream… if you wanted to." What a guy to do with such an invitation? He reached down between his legs and excitedly stroked his cock a few times. His erect rod made me both very eager and a little nervous and it was reassuring that all girls probably feels like that when face-to-face with a rock hard cock. The logistics of it shouldn't work, that cock seems much too big and much too wide to fit inside my delicate little slit. But somehow it did.

He straddled me, each knee either side of my tiny waist, his cock hovering over me. I reached over and gave it a few tugs, I couldn't get over how huge it looked in my dainty hands. Tyler reached down and began playing with my nipples. I bit my lip and moaned. "Oh God!" I moaned, "So is this another 'one off' event?"

With surgeon-like precision, Tyler kneaded my breasts expertly, driving me so far into pleasure that I almost forgot I asked him a question. "Yes, Gemma, we're being very naughty. This is totally a one off."

"So that makes three one offs last night and one more today?"

"Yes, but who is counting?" he shrugged as he tweaked the little erect nubbins atop my boobs. My eyelids fluttered and I felt my eyes roll back inside of my head. It was like my little nipples were wired directly to my brain and he could control me with little more than a twist. I wondered if girls with smaller breasts felt a smaller amount of pleasure. If so, then I was very happy with the set I had. My pussy, moist with anticipation twitched in excitement. She had clearly remembered the pleasure from last night and wanted more.

"Miss. Molly Buttercup would love a visit from Walter J. Throbson," I suggested. Last night in an exercise of sexy silly folly, we had named our genitals. It was between Bout number 2 and Bout number 3, we lay in bed and thought up silly names. I had never laughed so much and wished we would never have to leave that bed. He named my vagina 'Miss Molly Buttercup' because he said a pussy as cute as mine deserved a cute name. I was oddly chuffed to hear that he thought my pussy was cute. Since it was all the way down between my legs meant I couldn't get a good look at it, so I was glad to hear his opinion. I named his big cock 'Walter J. Throbson' because it was the one name that made us laugh the most. I actually couldn't catch my breath I was giggling so much.

"I bet she would," Tyler said as he gently un-straddled me. A blade of light from a crack in the curtains shone upon his mighty cock as he parted my knees. He stared at me for a second. "I'm the luckiest guy in the world," he told me as he started to inch his cock slowly toward me.

"Uh ah," I chided, "No glove, no love." I gestured to the open box of a dozen condoms on the bedside table. There were 8 condoms left in there, as 3 were used last night and I had used one back when I was Michael with Dot. That felt like eons ago, I could barely remember was having a penis felt like.

My first encounter with Tyler's penis was foolish because we didn't use protection whatsoever. If I had fallen pregnant I'm not sure if I would have been able to handle it. Having an abortion would have messed up my mind and I was in no mind to have a baby. This time however I was not taking any chances. As well as a latex sheath preventing sperm visitation rights to my ovum, I was also taking birth control pills. Mum had suggested them last time I was at the doctor's as a way on controlling my cramps. I think she was a little surprised when I readily said yes, but I doubt she knew I had been sexually active already.

Tyler gently opened the little packet and the protection greeted the world. "Would you do the honours?" he asked. I sat up and crawled over to the edge of the bed. I had put condoms on cucumbers chuckling at school and I had vague memories of rolling one onto my own penis back when I was a guy.

Thoughts about how I used to have a penis did not disgust me or make me nostalgic but it did make me think. I liked my penis, a lot and now I liked my pussy, a lot. Which is better? I'd probably say my adorable little Miss Molly Buttercup but only because Miss Molly has very pleasurable attention lavished upon her by good-looking men whenever I want. If I hadn't become the little sexpot I did my opinion might be different. People very often ask me what's better male or female. That question is a little too simple. The thing is I like being Gemma much more than I like being Michael, because as Gemma I'm a livelier, friendlier, more successful optimist. I'm not sure I can claim it's just the gender change that caused this personality change because I think it has more to do with all the other things going on in my life.

He stood up and I laid on the bed facing his cock. It felt so big in my hand. Big, hard and waiting. Slowly and as sexy as I could I rolled on the condom. My gentle touch made him smile and I looked up at him. "Good girl," he praised me.

"Thank you." I inspected my handy work, the condom was tight on so no sperm would be entering my womb today. I pulled down on his penis and watched it bounce back up. I let out it little giggle as is bobbed in front of my face.

"Hey," he scolded while he laughed at me, "My cock isn't a plaything!"

"Bouncy bouncy bouncy…." I teased him as I continued to bounce it.

"That's it! I'm going to have to hide my cock away from your meddling hands! Now where should I hide it?"

I played along and I got off the bed. "I am sure we can find somewhere," I purred as I stood on my tippy toes and kissed him.

The sex reminded me how good sex is. Tyler talked to me in soothing tones and complimented my 'awesome body', 'sexy moans' and 'the tightest, wettest pussy in the entire world'. He gave me options and never forced me to do anything. I let him take me from behind, sticking my cute bum in the air. I relished in the way he grabbed me at my waist and pulled me toward him with each thrust. Each powerful push into my willing but tight pussy made me squeal out.

Tyler seemed to know everything about sex and I was glad he was imparting his knowledge on me. Without out me telling him, he knew exactly how to rev my engines. From 0 to orgasm took shorter than anytime previous. "Tyler!" I moaned in awe of his talents. He stayed professional, continually pounding my warm, inviting nether regions. That was one part I loved about being a girl; multiple orgasms. Just because I had just come down from the best feeling in the world doesn't mean that I can't have that same feeling a few minutes later.

3 times! I felt the immense tingle of bliss 3 separate times that morning in that hotel room before Tyler came. Tyler removed the full condom, full of his seed that had conspired about being inside me. "Ha ha little sperm dudes!" I teased the full condom as Tyler tied it up and disposed of it, "You're not knocking Gemma Mae Taylor up!" Tyler said it was a little cruel to tease them for failing their life mission and I for a second I did feel a little guilty.

"All ready for your big night, kiddo?" he asked, his naked body glistening in sweat. He took me in his arms and we playfully hugged, my small soft feminine body held tight against his large muscular one. He swung me around excitedly, like a overstimulated puppy with a new chew toy.

"Yes!" I squealed, "Put me down!" He threw me on the huge hotel bed and I skipped across it like he had hurled a tiny pebble. "It's going to be soo much fun! You should see the dress! It's amazing, Tyler! All the other girls are going to be so jealous! I still can't believe that you came!" When I talked about the Deb to anyone lately, every sentence was an exclamation.

"I wouldn't miss my baby's big night for anything!" I let the words 'my baby' roll around in my head, it felt amazing to be claimed like that. I knew he would/could never say that publicly but in the confines of this moderately priced hotel room it still made me feel great. "But why do you have to wear a dress? I reckon you look your best completely naked, kiddo." I could almost see the fantasy spilling out of his head. I jumped off the bed and held him like a dance partner, my sweaty post-sex skin against his.

We danced to the music in our heads, I had finally accepted that as the girl I wasn't allowed to lead and just went where Tyler took me. "Believe me, the dress looks great." He added a flourish, spinning me around and we changed poses, my back up against his front and me holding his hands above my shoulders. My curvy bum rested gently against his thigh. As he swung me around I caught a glimpse of the time. "Oh shit! I better jump in the shower or I'm going to be late."

Tyler clutched me tight, "There's plenty of time! Plus all this naked dancing has aroused me no end." He wasn't lying, it appeared like our sweaty waltzing had made him incredibly hard.

"Wow, you are hard again already?" I said in amazement and with a little frustration. I took it in my hands just to check. He was unbelievably hard again just minutes after our last tryst. I let go of it like it was too hot, this penis and my lust for this penis was going to get me in trouble.

"You," he told me, "I blame you. You are just so fucking hot, so in a way this is your fault." His erect member pointed at me, almost as if it was accusing me.

I sighed; life wasn't all about sex as much as I like it. A fleeting thought that he was just using me for sex flew by too fast for me to actually consider it. I had a boyfriend (sorta)! And he was successful, and gorgeous and enamoured with me. "But I don't have time! I have to have a shower, get ready and then walk to Nicole's work!"

"I've got a hire car, I'll drive you," he said as he planted kisses down my neck, kisses he had hoped that would bloom into something else.

"They can't see me with you!"

"So, I'll park just around the corner. Come on!"

"Oh alright! But you owe me, mister!" I sighed as I sunk to my knees to pleasure him.

***

The ticking on his car's indicator sounded like the ticking of the unrelenting clock. "We're so late!" I grumbled as I clenched my hands into two tiny fists.

Tyler saw that I was about to boil over and tried his best to calm the teenage girl down. "You called your Mum and Dot, they know you're going to be late. They are OK with it. You're not missing any of it. It's OK," he took a deep breath to show me everything was OK. "Anyway, it's not like you stopped me climbing into the shower with you!" he unwisely added.

The blowjob I had given Tyler was attentive and loving. I let him know that this experience was as enjoyable for me. It did make me aware of how subservient the act was. Me behaving that way, kneeling before him and treating his rod like a sacred item, was proof of how willing I was to play the 'girl' role in this relationship. That blowjob was his third and yet, despite his constant promises, he hadn't gone down on me once. It's not like I didn't like giving head, I really did and I think one of the reasons was because it was such a submissive act. I climbed into the shower knowing that I had successfully soothed the lust beast. I had to wash myself pretty hard because I stank of sweat, sex and teenage foolishness.

I wondered if a jury of my peers would deem me slutty and teenage girls loved judging other teenage girls. Girls had a very difficult tight tope to walk, not have enough sex and be labelled 'frigid' or have too much a be called a 'slut'. From the warm feeling between my legs and the droplet of cum on my top lip I was definitely leaning closer to slut. I looked at my behaviour:

I gave my first hand job two weeks into being a girl — SLUTTY
I had sex a within a month — SLUTTY
I have had sex 5 times and given 2 blowjobs in the last 12 hours — SLUTTY

Things weren't looking very good for me.

I only have had sex with the one guy — NOT SLUTTY
I made sure protection was used (most of the time) — NEUTRAL
Anal and other kinky practices were out — NOT SLUTTY

But one thought was stuck in my head.

I didn't love the man I was making love with — SLUT

And I was pretty sure he didn't love me.

But the weird thing was I kinda felt OK with it. It was totally weird that as a guy I had a much more romanticised image of love than I did now. I liked Tyler a lot, he was funny and sweet and great looking and a fabulous lover. It did annoy me that we weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, I think it would be easy to fall in love with him if he tried. I understood that we had to keep our 'relationship' a secret because he would lose his job otherwise but I got the sneaky suspicion that he liked it that way. Tyler liked having his own naíve fuck toy he could exploit when he wanted.

"Gemma!" said the voice through the heady steam in the bathroom. It was Tyler of course and amazingly he was erect again. "What did you do to my cock? Every time I think of you," he gestured to his impressive erection, "this happens!"

"Again?" I laughed in veiled frustration, "Tyler, you and your wonderful cock are unstoppable!"

Tyler put his hands on his hips as if he was proud he had a cock that wouldn't die. "So, what do you say, kiddo? One more time for the road?" God, he was good looking with his bulging and rippling muscles.

Reality came shooting at me like the jet of water currently washing me. "Tyler! I'm going to be late!"

He shrugged, not caring too much about my little problem. "So what are a few little minutes?"

There was no way that Tyler was going to give up. "OK, climb in. But Mr. Throbson is not allowed anywhere Miss Molly Buttercup," I clamped a solitary hand over my privates, "Just washing!"

And so that's how I ended up being much later than I wanted to be. But it was fun fooling around in the shower; we kissed, fondled, explored and washed each other's bodies. Tyler must have believed that my breasts were extra filthy and spent a lot of time washing them down. If they were any cleaner they would be transparent. What felt like just a few minutes of harmless sexy fun was over half-an-hour. It would have been quicker to have sex with him again. When I realised the time I panicked and threw on some clothes and flew out the door, pulling Tyler and his car keys out with me.

"You begged to get in the shower with me! Turn left here," I argued and directed at the same time.

"But you didn't say no. Anyway kiddo, everything is cool, don't get your panties in a twist!" Tyler was so punctual when it came to professional stuff, it annoyed and amazed me to see him so lax when it came to important things to me.

I hoped the hire car clock was running fast. "I just didn't want to be late, Tyler! It's my Debutante Ball today."

Tyler tried is calming voice on me again, "No, it's tonight. You've got all day to prepare!" I almost wished SGR would happen to him so that he knew the pressures of being a girl.

"No, I don't. I'm half an hour late getting my legs waxed with the rest of the girls which means they will all have to wait until I catch up until they can do hair."

"Wax your legs? Gemma, your legs are like silk. In fact I'm pretty sure you down have a hair on your body below your eyebrows. You're totally hairless!" Tyler did have a point there. When he told me he was going down to see me a night before the Deb so we could spend some time together, I kinda prepped for it. I waxed and double waxed making sure that my legs and my private area were barren, deserted areas, completely free of hair, I painted my nails and I dyed my roots, thus hopefully making him think I was totally a natural blonde, even though he had seen my natural hair colour. My hair, despite being ravaged by dye, had grown a lot in the last two months, it had gone from a shaggy pixie cut to something I could actually pull into a ponytail, most of my artificially-coloured mane reached the tops of my shoulders.

"Just drop me off here, boy-o. Nicole's salon is just about a block away, I told Dot to meet me around the corner so it looks like we came together. So you drop me off, I walk 'round the corner, meet up with Dot and then walk to the salon as if I stayed the night with her."

Tyler looked impressed, "Wow, you really planned this out, didn't you?" I just grinned, shrugged and opened the car door.

"Is there a gym around here? I'd like a bit of a workout this fine morning." Tyler had to get his amazing body somehow. I drew a little map in the air with my finger, explaining that it was only a right turn and then a left and then a 2-minute drive.

Quickly and surprisingly, as I was getting out, Tyler put his hand on mine as if to say something. I looked up at his gorgeous face. "Gemma," he started earnestly, "before you hop out I just wanted to say that you're really special to me and I am so lucky you came into my life…"

"Oh Tyler…" I said to calm myself down.

He wasn't finished, "Last night was amazing. I mean just talking to you is always the best part of my day, so kissing you makes my year the best ever. And I'm not sure I can ever top last night for incredible nights. You're are going to look so breathtaking tonight and I am so pleased you invited me. I know we can't be together but Gemma," he cupped my face in his large hand, "but believe me, it's ripping me apart…. Sorry, that last part was fairly dorky. It sounded cooler in my head."

I laughed in such a way that belied to Tyler that I was just as close to crying as I was to laughing and it was a photo finish. "Believe me," I said while choking back a mini-sob, "Everything I want to say right now is super-ultra-dorky. So know that if I wasn't so concerned about looking cool you would be soaked in over-sentimentality."

"We'll just have to agree that we feel more for each other than we both are willing to let on." Tyler was good with words, it was his job but even I was impressed with something as succinct as that.

"Agreed." I smiled and moved in for a gentle kiss. There were a lot of things he was too chicken to say and there was even more that I was hiding but that simple, tender kiss revealed it all.

"Now go and let people try to make you more beautiful. I don't think such a thing is possible but I can't wait to be proven wrong tonight. Bye Princess," I opened the car door because I knew if I didn't we would be driving to a secluded spot to sexually cash-in on all these romantic words. I waved meekly as Tyler drove off to the gym, probably to have a cold shower.

****

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story is amazing. Thank you so much to everyone who has ever e-mailed or commented, it means a huge amount.

Kate Draffen (Chapters 38 + 39)

By Swishy

Michael Taylor was a 17-year-old boy living in a town in Australia. Something happened and he found himself on a path to becoming a 17-year-old girl. This is a story about an ordinary teenager that had something extraordinary happen to him and how he tried to cope.

Australia's most famous Debutante, Gemma Taylor prepares for her big night.

CHAPTER 38

"Finally!" Dot exclaimed as I rounded the corner.

"Hey," I said trying to look puffed, as if I had rushed there, "Sorry I'm late." As a friend, Dot was always late, to everything. I can't tell you the number of movies I missed the opening of because Dot was late. Dot clearly did not like having the late shoe on the other foot.

"He better be worth it," she told me as we started heading towards Nicole's work. The Saturday morning shoppers all buzzed about only stopping momentarily to gawk at me, The Gemma Taylor. It was a small town so in 3 months my star had dwindled a little bit.

I screwed up my face at Dot. "He better be worth what?" I said, forgetting to cover my tracks a little better, "What do you mean 'he'?"

"HE better be worth making me wait on a damn street corner for half an hour waiting for your stupid but surprisingly well toned arse."

"Thanks," I said ignoring the 'stupid' part, "I've been using Mum's exercise equipment she bought off the TV. I think I'm a tiny bit more toned in the bum region because of it," and so did Tyler.

"Anyway," Dot said leaning in, her black fringe covering her dark eyes, "You better tell me where you've been. So that we can get our stories straight."

"You don't need to know where I've been, I've been at your house all night. That's where I've been!" Maybe I was being a little tetchy but I wasn't ready to tell her the truth.

"Gemma, I'd never keep a secret from you. I'm an open book, an open filthy, libellous book," Dot said as she trotted behind me trying to keep up with my brisk pace. It was true, Dot would never keep things from me. And she always kept my secrets when I asked her to, there was stuff I had only ever told her. Nobody else in the world knew about them even though some of those secrets were years and years old. Dot was very good at keeping secrets.

My shoulders slumped, my posture slackened; I had to be relaxed if I was going to tell the truth. Dot saw me getting into 'truth mode' and her eyes widened. "Tyler's down for the Deb tonight and he came down last night to spend some time with me," I blushed more and more as the sentence went on, unable to look my best friend in her face.

"Yeah," Dot plainly shrugged, "I know."

My mouth swung open. "How did you know?" I asked.

We stoped walked and Dot look my squarely in the eye, "Because he drove past here about 10 seconds before you showed up. Not much of a covert plan, Hootie. I think some of the blonde dye you are using has seeped into your brain."

I stood slack-jawed, staring at my friend. "Then why did you beg for me to tell you?" I asked, my brain trying to figure out Dot's logic.

"Just wanted to see if you would still share secrets with your best friend," she shrugged flippantly.

I slapped her on her shoulder with my dainty hand, if I was still a guy it probably would have been a playful punch instead, "You bitch! Of course, I would I tell you secrets. You are my best friend, Dot!"

Nicole's work slowly grew larger in our eyes as we got closer. I tried to calm myself down but it was no use, I was excited! Endless amounts of words were gushed about this very day. Talking about the Debutante Ball was a full time hobby for a lot of girls and it certainly helped me get accepted with the fold. How could I not be a girl? I talked about dresses and hair styles almost as much as any other girl. Some girls who were originally a little stand-offish were running up to me to squeal excitedly that the Deb was only 'X sleeps to go!'.

Dot however, was not living her life in a fairytale, while most of the girls at school were buying presents for their dance partners and choosing make-up colour palates, she was in a small group who weren't making their debut, thus her thoughts were free to think about other things. "So, how do you like having a cock between your legs again?"

"Dot!"

"C'mon Gemma, you'll always tell me your secrets, right?" It didn't take long for that comment to come back and hit me in the face.

"Alright… I don't know what to say," I mumbled.

"Hurry up, better give me an answer or I'll bug you about it all the through our little beautification process." And I know Dot, she really would. No amount of double meanings would slip past her and she would give me that look as if she is about to blurt out my secret to everyone. Dot could easily find employment in the field of torture.

"OK!" I said breathlessly, "I loved it! OK? It felt fucking great! Makes me glad I'm a girl, OK?"

"OK," Dot slyly smiled as she opened the door to the salon, "I thought so. Now, let's get pretty!"

Nicole's place of business was a feminine drenched place indeed. It was so pink and fluffy it made me feel like we had climbed inside a huge mountain of cotton candy. All the hairdressers and beauticians were in their early twenties, or at least trying to look like they were and wore tight pink tank tops with 'Tania's' written in flowing black lettering. Some R'n'B number played underneath dozens of conversations about hair, men, celebrities, make-up and sex. It was a secret women's place that fascinated me as Michael but truly terrified me as Gemma.

"Gemma!" called out Alana ignoring or not seeing Dot standing next to me. Lilly looked up from the magazine she was reading a beamed a huge smile at me her dark brown eyes dancing with excitement. They bounded out of their seats to come surround me, to chat all things Deb. Dot gave me a knowing look and I returned one before lapsing into girly chat. Deb Night clearly meant a lot to my friends.

And how did I feel about it? Firstly the hubbub of it all was infectious, you can't be totally submerged in thick gooey hype for month and not have some of it seep into your pores. Victoria Cross had come by yesterday to let me try on the dress for a last fitting. There was no need because it fit like a glove, hugging to every gentle and sweeping curve of my body. Let's just say it wasn't just Mum who was a little teary looking at me in that dress. For a woman who had never designed a Deb dress, Victoria is a phenomenal designer. The dress highlighted my good areas, like my boobs, without flaunting them too sleazily and it made me look like a graceful princess, not some school student trying to look like a princess. Victoria even brought appropriate diamond jewellery to wear with the dress, although I may forgo them because I don't want to show off more than any of the other girls, it's not just my night tonight.

So, I guess I was excited. Sue me. I mean for all intents and purposes I was a teenage girl, excited about going to a ball. There's nothing wrong with that. Who I used to be isn't who I am now and I wasn't going to feel bad for someone who didn't exist anymore. Being a girl wasn't that bad.

"SWEET MOTHER FUCKER!" screamed Dot through clenched teeth as Beautician Ellie ripped hundreds of hairs off of her leg with wax. "That's all thank you, that should be fine!" Dot said to Ellie, even though only one strip of wax had been torn off.

"C'mon! Don't be such a sook," I told Dot. It was good being able to chide Dot considering how often see teases me. "I had my legs waxed last night and I didn't whinge half as much as you!"

A passer-by chimed in, "Yes you did! You bloody cried!"

"No, I didn't, Nicole! I had tears in my eyes because it hurt but I wasn't crying! It was an involuntary reaction to the pain!" It did hurt, a lot. But I wanted my body to be silky smooth for Tyler. I even let my sister give me a Brazilian, which was a little weird. But, if there is anything in my life I can cope with, it's weirdness.

"You are such a wuss," Dot told me, with judgement in her eye.

To refute her claim, I rolled up the leg of my overalls. "See? No hair," my tanned, smooth legs glistened in the light of the parlour and the assumed adoration of Dot, "Not a wuss," I turned to her legs, darkened with tiny, black streaks of unfemininity, "You my friend, are a wuss!"

"I'll just shave them tonight! Shaving doesn't hurt!" Dot pleaded for some kind of clemency. But Girl World was not one a pain free world as I had found out. Being a girl meant putting up with a little pain so you could get the substantial rewards. Sure, you had to endure leg waxing now and again but men would treat you like princesses just for a chance at a glimpse at a creamy, glossy thigh. Sure, the pain of childbirth would probably be horrendous but the mother-child bond is a bond stronger than steel. Not that motherhood had crossed my mind at all.

Ellie, Dot's beautician hovered over Dot, wandering if she was going to go through with it or not. "Waxing is so much better than shaving! Don't you want to impress Glen with silky smooth gams?" I cooed in Dot's ear. Perhaps beneath her rough exterior of her she really did want to impress her boyfriend.

"Is that why you waxed?" Dot said, with an expression of faked innocence on her face and the true glimmer of mischief shining through her eyes. My eyes begged her to stop talking but the smirk she was wearing made me know she wasn't finished just yet. "To impress Tyler?"

"Ohhh," Ellie said, eyebrows raised high, "Who's Tyler?"

Damn it!

Fuck Dot!

Ellie is going to tell Nicole and Nicole would figure it out and then she would tell everyone and Tyler's and my secret 'relationship' wouldn't be so secret and Mum would yell and Tyler would lose his job and it might get in the paper and everyone would think I was a proper slut and people would look down on me and make jokes about me behind my back and I would be judged by absolutely everyone in the country.

Fuck Dot!

"Hey Nicole!" Ellie called out.

Nicole, who seemed not to be doing any work whatsoever, dropped everything she was doing and responded, "Yeah?"

Ellie called out loud enough for Nicole and seemingly the rest of the salon to hear, "Looks like your little sister has a crush goin' on." My face was buried so deep in my hands that they felt welded together.

"Who's the lucky boy?" Nicole called out.

I hoped that maybe my gender transformation gave me special powers. Maybe I had become an X-man without even knowing it! I tried using my powers to make time stop or turn myself invisible or even make Ellie's head explode, none of it seemed to work. Damn my imaginary powers! "What was his name?" Ellie asked herself as she prepped wax strips for Dot, "Oh yeah! Tyler!"

'Deep breaths, shoulders back, relax,' I told myself, 'Beauticians can smell fear.' I acted as calmly as I could and was very proud of myself for not bolting out of the store.

"Oh him! We've all got a crush on him!" Nicole laughed and resumed working and amazingly so did Ellie. What just happened? I was so sure that the apocalypse was upon me that the small splash of water that resulted confused me to no end. Dot too, looked surprised at the close call but I'm sure I saw a little bit of disappointment on her face too.

I will admit that after her insolence, the look of abject pain on Dot's face as her legs got waxed was enjoyable.

***

Believe it or not, but on that fateful day all my friends got along. Alana and Lilly really did gel with Dot for the very first time in a remarkable way. My 'girly girl' friends laughed at Dot's dry, sarcastic comments and Dot seemed to yield a little bit and enjoyed being pampered. It was amazing to watch and allowed me to just be myself and not wildly oscillate between being what Dot wanted me to be and the way I acted around the girls. For once I felt like myself and not pretending to be 'Gemma' or 'Michael'. Although I knew that this perfect harmony between friends would never be a permanent thing, it was great while it lasted.

Nicole cut my hair. It was weird that I had to pay my own sister to cut and style my hair when she practically falls over herself to do it at home for free but I liked it. It validated her and her job, despite having quite a bad (bad is a little strong, maybe it should be 'over-dramatic') haircut herself. With the spotlight being firmly shone in my eyes the last couple of months Nicole probably felt jealous and she had every right to. The media circus surrounding me was all consuming but had slowed down considerably. Murders and sports news and celebrities' scandals were happening without fail everyday and the news of a teenage girl in rural Victoria just couldn't be sustained everyday for 3 months. From now on, I was old news and happy to be that way.

I wasn't completely old news though; my participation in the Debutante Ball and the controversy around it all was still a headline, if only on page 7 and not page 1. Rumour had it that people who still found me an abomination would protest the ball. That was OK with me, the number of people who were 'pro-Gemma' greatly outnumbered the 'anti-Gemma's. When I had complained about the backlash I often received Annette had told me, "You can't please everyone," which I think she tried to pass off as her own theory.

But Aaron and I practised our arses off and we were dancing like the whole world was going to be watching us. I think having a nationally famous dance partner made Aaron a little nervous because he wanted to do extra practises. So, long after the other dancers were tucked up in bed, we were in the lounge room going over the steps. We'd dance until my eyes began to droop and then he'd get on his bike and ride home.

My thoughts drifted to Aaron, here I was spending my first hour of many getting ready for the ball and he probably was enjoying a sleep in. While I was getting primped and poked and cut and styled, he was kicked back, having an easy day. My former sex had it easy, all they had to do was pull on their suit, they were not in a position where having hot wax poured on their legs was mandatory. Even before the big day they didn't have to wile away hours discussing their dress for the night, they all wore suits, the exact same suit, hired from the same place. Then, for just a few seconds, as I looked down at all curves that my body had inherited I missed the convenience of being a guy.

"Hey," Dot said from the chair beside me as she had her black hair styled for the first time in ages, "This isn't that bad, actually."

"You sound surprised," I remarked.

"It's just weird that you're the one forcing me to do girly things and not the other way 'round, you know? I kinda pictured me dragging you into the chemist's to help buy you your first pads. If anything you're girlier than me."

I sighed, I didn't like quantifying my 'girliness', it was something very tricky to measure and pointless to do so. I had begun to realize that it didn't matter how much of a girl I was or wasn't being, as long I being myself. Some people thought I was too girly and other people thought I was still a little tomboyish, everyone had an opinion. I was just going to live as true to myself as I could, be that too tomboyish for some and too girly for others.

Dot scrubbed up pretty well, her shiny jet black hair was slowly styled into something quite beautiful. "So, what are you wearing tonight?" I asked her.

"Ummm… not sure, I do have some dresses when I have to go to Church with my Nanna. Do I have to wear a dress?" She whined about dresses in the same voice as I had done time and time again. Like me, she enjoyed the comfort of pants and jeans. And like me the only dress she wore was the school summer uniform and that was because she had to.

"It's formal, so I guess a dress or a tux or something," I shrugged, while I pictured Dot in a tuxedo. It suited her because like the suit she was very black and white; her long, unkempt, black hair and her pale porcelain skin was a striking contrast.

Dot was resisting wearing gender appropriate clothing, "I'd so much rather wear a suit. You know, like Diane Keaton?"

"Diane Keating? Who's that?" asked Lilly, as a hairdresser piled Lilly's hair atop her head in the fashion of the picture Lilly had brought in.

I braced myself for a Dot outburst. "Umm… she's an actress and totally a fashion icon in the 70s. Annie Hall, The Godfather…" You could almost hear Dot's eyes rolling but at least she didn't erupt. Lilly, oblivious to the scolding she almost received, nodded blankly but enthusiastically.

Alanna joined in the conversation, "Wear a suit and see how much your boyfriend wants to dance with you anyway." I believe that Alana thought maybe Dot would care what Glen thought of her.

"Like he would want to dance anyway," Dot had a very good point, Glen was obviously the type of guy wouldn't want to dance, if given a choice. Dot explained to the girls, "We're just going to sit at the table and make fun of everyone else dancing." That sounded exactly how Dot and Glen would spend their night and a time ago I would have joined them, and I would have laughed along with them. But while I still enjoy the pleasurable sensation of laughing cynically at other people having fun, I had recently learnt that having fun and not caring what other people thought was a lot of fun.

"Well, I'm sure you're going to laugh at me and Tall-Jason, we suck at dancing!" Alana giggled embarrassedly but not ashamedly. She didn't care that people might tease her dancing, in fact that was all part of the fun of the night.

Dot's sarcastic nature was not putting a dint in anyone's enthusiasm and it was interesting to watch Dot trying to cope with that. It was like watching a black belt performing karate on someone and not hurting them in the slightest. No matter how hard she tried, Dot's deadly sarcasm wasn't working. The biting comments were softened in the haze of hair spray and smiles. That's not to say I did enjoy having Dot around me, pulling me back down to earth whenever my head got big.

"I'm going to be ready for this Deb, like, eight hours before it starts. Why are we getting ready so soon?" Dot asked as we moved from the hairdressing chairs to the make-up room.

"Well, Miss Celebrity has a fashion shoot before the Deb," Lilly gave me a mocking look of distain.

The look of distain from Dot was much more real, "Friggin' hell Taylor! I thought you were sick of the media."

"Believe it or not," I began, "It's to reduce the amount of paparazzi that will show up tonight. If I pose for the media this afternoon and answer their questions they aren't going to show up and wreck everyone's night," I crossed my fingers, "…hopefully."

The media were very excited about me being introduced to polite society tonight. The frenzy had slowed down quite a fair bit over the couple of months with only one or two freelance photographers hanging around every now-and-then and I would pose for them if it meant they would leave me alone. There's only so many pictures of a teenager walking to school you can sell to the papers before the money dries up. But with the mostly made-up controversy and the glamour of a Debutante Ball, interested had been building up. The school had talked about banning cameras being brought to the Deb but the outcry was loud and continuous, many more people would prefer me banned than cameras. However, this year's Marrang College's Debutante Ball would be the first in history to have it's own security team, all thanks to me.

"You love the attention," Dot said. It wasn't the first time she had made that claim. I had often tried to defend myself but it never fully convinced her, mainly because it was a little bit of a lie.

I did like the attention.

'Love' was a little strong but I did like all the ballyhoo about me. Sure, when it was invasive and too personal I hated it but when it was masses fawning all over me it's tricky to resist. Every week I would savour the box of fan mail I had sent to me from Dolly Magazine. Now and again I would leaf through the photos of me with the B-List celebs who came to my party in Sydney. I even enjoyed seeing the overtly sexual comments about me by my small internet following. I was a little egocentric and tried to be self-aware of it enough so that I didn't become destructively vain.

"If I loved the attention I WOULDN'T have had this photo op," I argued, "So, that the paps would swarm around me at the Deb." It was a weak argument and everyone could tell that I liked being the focus of attention. "I'm doing this so I don't become the focus of the night." That part was true. Through no fault of mine, I had a fair amount of girls bitch about me behind my back (and Holly quite openly) for stealing the night. Although there was little hope that I would just blend in with everyone else, I did hope to dodge the spotlight a little bit.

"Whatever," Dot said as her eyes rolled.

I had wore make-up now and again; photo shoots, when I know a lot of media will be around and when I meet up with Tyler, so I had gotten used to it. When I was male the only time I wore make-up was when I was in the school musical and that was always caked on so thick I could feel in melting down my skin under the stage lights. I now know that it doesn't have to feel like that at all, in fact you don't really feel it at all. All the other girls were getting their make-up done by make-up professional, I had Nicole, a hairdresser by trade.

"Don't make me look like a clown, Nicole," I warned my big sister.

"Don't be silly, Gem. You trust me, don't you?" she asked me as eyeliner loomed over me in a threatening manner.

"Just not too thick!" Gemma Taylor is known for her natural look and there is no way I would let Nicole ruin that.

Nicole looked at my eyes in the mirror and tried to tell me authoritatively, "OK, but it's evening make-up so it needs to be a little more dramatic."

I did not like the sound of that and squirmed childishly in the chair. There was no way she was going to turn me into a version of her, I've seen her 'dramatic' make-up for when she goes out. "Whatever you are planning," I told her firmly, "halve it."

"Your protests are noted but you have to acknowledge that I am a professional and have been doing Deb make-up for two years now. Plus all my other clients were happy with their make-up."

"But you probably went with their directions instead of imposing your will on them," I had no idea why the conversation was so heated, I guess it was about a little more than just make-up.

"Yeah, but they had been wearing make-up for a little longer than 3 months."

"Yes, I don't know a lot about make-up," I conceded, "but I know what I like and I like a natural look."

Nicole sighed and bent down to look at me at my level. Everyone else was already halfway through their make-up and we hadn't even started. Nicole steadied herself and whispered in an effort to show me she wasn't as angry as she sounded. "Gemma, you can go with a natural look but when you get up there in front of the lights you'll look washed-out. If you're OK with that then that's fine with me. Look at Lilly." Lilly's Asian complexion glittered with a radiance I hadn't noticed until just know. It was obvious she was wearing make-up but it didn't look overdone. "It wont be anymore intense than that, OK?"

"OK," I sighed and I knew I had been a pest.

"You like what I done to your hair, don't you?"

I looked at my flawless blonde locks that framed my face like I was a medieval princess. My hair had grown a fair bit so that I had graduated from my original pixie cut into a more feminie style now. Nicole had done such an amazing job that questioning her about my make-up was an exercise in foolishness. "It's great, Nicole," I earnestly said. I didn't need to say anymore, she understood.

And I was right to trust her.

"Wow, you look great!" Alana gushed as she peered at my face.

"Thanks!" an equal amount of giddiness flowed out of me, "You too!" Alana looked spectacular. She was always considered to be one of the most beautiful girls at school and today was no exception. On a day where all the girls were aiming for perfection, Alana was alarmingly close.

"We all look like princesses!" Lilly was no slouch either, her exotic Malaysian complexion made her skin glow in the most enchanting way.

"I guess that makes me the bridge troll that makes bread out of your bones," Dot murmured emerging from the chair for the first time. Dot did not look like a troll of any kind, in fact her transformation was most incredible of all of us (excluding my initial transformation, of course). Dot looked strikingly beautiful. While the rest of us looked somewhat like teenage girls playing with make-up, Dot looked older, more mature and more sophisticated. She could have been a femme fatale in an old film noir or something.

"Oh wow, Dot, you look great!" Lilly said as she admired the newest member of our group, "I wish you were doing the Deb and not just coming to watch!"

"I don't," Dot said, trying to return to her cynical mode.

I playfully prodded Dot while grinning like a maniac, "Ah come on, Dorothy! Surely, a little teensy piece of you wants to get all dressed up in a pretty white dress and dance in front of local dignitaries?" Her face screwed up and she shook her head.

Dot's eyes glinted with a familiar spark, "I still think you are all demeaning yourselves performing in this out-of-date sexist ritual but I will admit I look pretty effing good." I know it sounds a little corny but we all laughed. "It's only noon what am I going to do all day with the gross war paint on my face?"

"Sit at home and watch movies, like you always do. It's not going to affect your schedule much," I reminded her.

Lilly really didn't get Dot. "Just don't watch a soppy chick flick or you might cry and ruin your make-up," she told Dot.

"Chick flick?" Dot asked as if she had never heard those words put together.

"You can come with us if you want," suggested Alana, "We're going to help Gemma into her dress. Victoria Cross is going to be there." That wasn't going to sway Dot. She had spent an entire afternoon playing my Xbox with Glen while Victoria Cross had a fitting with me last week. Dot was about 6 meters away from the holy genius of Australian fashion and didn't even bother to come out and say hello.

Dot started to head towards the exit, there was only so much of the 'Princess Patrol' she could handle in one sitting and I think she was at her limit. "Nah, don't worry about me. I'll see you guys tonight, OK?"

"Thanks for coming," I said, hopefully my eyes conveyed how much I meant it.

She smiled, a small but genuine smile and said as opened the door, "My pleasure, Hootie."

Somethings do not change.

CHAPTER 39

I have big boobs. They are big for a girl my size. They are big for a girl of my age. They are big enough to command attention by all guys. They are big and perky enough to warrant discussions on whether or not they are real. I have been told they are big enough to be very sexy and just small enough not to be 'too much of a good thing'.

I have big boobs.

I know this fact and just in case I ever forgot there are constant reminders.

"Whoa!" muttered Lilly as I handed her my bra. She looked at the cups in disbelief as if she was looking into the Grand Canyon. Lilly was half-Asian, so she had small breasts. Quite small breasts. 'Mozzie Bites' as some of the meaner boys would say.

Suddenly, I felt a little self-conscious. My boobs had the power to do that, it was just one of their many superpowers. My bra was a miracle of engineering with wire, lace and satin all doing their very best to save my back. Lilly's bra was just for show, except for the one job of keeping her nipples from poking through her tops.

"Just put it on the bed with the rest of my clothes," I hinted. Lilly snapped out of her wonder and tossed it on the bed with my neatly folded clothes, I'm sure Lilly imagined a giant 'thud' noise when it hit the bed.

Lilly began to apologise, "I'm sorry I was just loo…" and then her eyes met my naked breasts. She got that startled kangaroo in the headlights look and blushed faster than I had ever seen anyone go red.

Awkwardness seemed to hang in the room far too long, Lilly stood there staring at my boobs, I stood there waiting for Lilly to stop staring and hand me my tights and Alana stood there probably wondering what was going on. Someone needed to diffuse the situation and even though I would much more readily categorize myself as a 'Problem creator' rather than 'Problem solver', I tried to move things along.

"Big," I sighed, "I know." I laughed nervously and covered myself with an arm.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare," Lilly's gaze was suddenly broken and now she could look anywhere but at me, "It's just I saw the bra cups and couldn't fathom how anyone could fill them." But looking at me it seemed obvious I needed a bra with some grunt power.

I had solicited the help of Alana and Lilly to help me put on my Deb dress because I didn't want my Mum in here. She was going insane. The joy and pressure of being a mother of a debutante and the most famous debutante in the country was getting to her. Plus Mum was busy playing hostess. Our tiny house was overrun with visitors, my Nanna, Pa and Aunty Ros were all inside and various members of the Australian media were camped just outside our house. The fact she cried with utter joy when she picked me up from the salon just proved to me that she was running on overload. "It's just make-up, Mum," I shrugged. I didn't want her watching me undress and commenting on what a beautiful, buxom woman I had become and how proud she was to have people all the time telling her that I look exactly like her.

Although the amount of attention my bust was getting, it was like my mum was in the room anyway. "It must have been so weird going from no boobs to those boobs," Alana said as she prepared to help me into the dress, "I mean, mine grew over a number of years and your's kinda just exploded, right?" Alana's breasts were nothing to sneeze at, I had often admired them from afar, before I hatched a set of my own and men's bodies became ultimately more interesting.

I really wished they would hurry getting my dress on because the topics of discussion were getting a little cold. "Well, I don't know if 'exploded' is the right word," I laughed at the idea and so did the girls, "But it was weird, like really rapid puberty. I was just getting used to the concept of having boobs at all and then the next day and I had them, and then the next day they I had a handful and then I graduated to these whoopers." I gestured to them, although I didn't need to.

"That must have been so freaky," Alana said as she finally handed me my strapless bra that went with the dress.

"Well," I began, turning away from them to clumsily hoist my plump breasts into the confines of the cups, "combine it with losing your genitals, your voice sounding like a chipmunk, changing your sexual preference involuntarily," I looked up at the girls, both of whom where taller than me, "And shrinking tons - the boobs don't seem like the biggest things in the world anymore."

After fumbling with the fiddly clasp for only a few seconds, I felt a pair of hands take over and do up my bra. "I don't think they are the biggest in the world, anyway. That chubby Year 11 girl in my Environmental Studies class is bigger than you easily," Alana teased me.

"You know what I mean!" I laughed. Alana came at me with the mass of white satin to pull over my head. I must have looked funny wearing just a strapless bra, white tights and a voluminous petticoat so I didn't mind wearing the dress too much. Also I wasn't worried because recently I had spent more time in that dress than out of it. Ms. Cross was a perfectionist and practically lived at our house, fixing, fitting, re-fixing, re-fitting the dress on me over and over again.

"Arms up."

"Well, Gemma," started Lilly as I was swallowed by the satiny mouth of the dress, "The fact you came out of all that so awesome is just a testament to how good a person you are."

My head and arms emerged from the white satiny beast, "Thanks Lill, having you guys as friends was one of the best things to happen to me because of SGR."

I was in the dress, Lilly made sure the skirt was fully covering the petticoat while Alana zipped me up. I felt like I was a racecar driver sitting in my puffy white racecar while my pit-crew adjusted my tyres and fixed me up. "We like to think we would have been friends with Michael too but we just didn't run in the same circles." I inhaled as Alana zipped up the bodice, although I was pretty much stick thin, Ms. Cross was used to designing for models and I guess they were even skinnier. Alana kept talking, "But we saw the interview with you on TV and knew that you were a great person and could really use some friends that could show you how to have fun as a girl. Oh my god, that is so perfect!"

"I'm in total agreement," Lilly nodded as she stood back to take a look at me, "Wow!"

I turned around to take a look in the mirror. I had seen the dress enough times to be a little over it. Yes, it was made by one of Australia's leading fashion experts and yes. It did make me look incredible so I was pretty much prepared for the reflection I was about to see.

But I hadn't seen it with my hair done up.

And I hadn't seen it with make-up on.

Usually I was wincing in pain at a pin poking me or bored from standing still on a table in the dress for 30 minutes at a time. But today was different; I was putting on the dress to go to the ball. I wasn't Cinderella-in-training anymore; the time was now. I slid my hands down the smooth, cold, silky, bodice and took in the sensual feeling of the material against my skin.

"Wow," was all I could say.

The room went silent as the girls allowed me space to cope with what I was going through. I think they sensed that this was an important moment for me. My reflection just over 3 months ago was so much different to my current reflection. I had changed so much inside and out and that never seemed so true as it did as I stared at the mirror. Michael felt like a good friend that I had lost touch with, sure he had a huge impact on my life but that time was gone; I am Gemma now, and I am damn proud.

"Oh Gem!" Beside my reflection stood another image, another one that looked like me, although about 20 years older.

"Not bad for your only son, huh?" I joked, although I didn't feel like her son at all, I was clearly my mother's daughter.

Mum rightfully ignored my awkward joke. "You are so gorgeous," her emotions quickly bubbled up and tears welled up in her eyes. Mum wasn't much of a crier until today where anything seemed to set her off.

"Don't start crying," warned Alana, "Or you'll get us all crying."

Lilly drove it home to its logical conclusion, "Which will muck up our make-up!"

"I'm not going to cry!" Mum stated, mock-stoically, "I promise you girls that. It's just that you look so perfect, Gem. I can't believe that one of my kids is finally doing their Deb! You've grown up so fast!" I wasn't going to point out that I was actually shorter now than I was when I was 13.

The fact was: it was a big day for my Mum. Her two children were well on their way to being fully-fledged adults. Nicole already had a job, a steady boyfriend and her own car, she was just one dream of living in Melbourne away from flying the coop completely. Me, sure I was only 17 and still had one and a half years of school left but Mum knew as well I did that as soon as I could I was off to explore the world, especially now that I had the funds. Me wearing this dress was a signpost to Mum that soon she would be the parents of grown-ups, no wonder she was about to cry.

Mum breathed deep and shook her head, as if she was trying to reset it in 'organizing mode', "Gemma, I just stepped in to say the two most important men in your life are here." The look I gave her must have told her I didn't know whom she meant. "Your Deb partner and your publicist. They're waiting, you've got to your little press thingy."

"Are you coming, Mum?"

"Sorry love. I can't. Your sister is coming home to do my make up and hair and then I'm going to supper with Annette and the other Sydney people. Next time I see you, you'll be coming onto stage with everyone watching," Mum hugged me so tight that I'm surprised that my skin didn't come off all over her face, let alone my make-up, "I'm so proud of you. You've been so brave and so smart. You've taught me so much about things and life. Boy or girl, you've always made me proud." Mum suddenly remembered what family this was and hastily added, "Shit, that was a bit corny, wasn't it?"

"I don't care," I said, not breaking the hug.

"Me neither."

Tyler and Aaron were indeed waiting for me. And they both looked great in their suits. I was used to seeing my hunky publicist/'boyfriend' in a suit but Aaron was a surprise, his broad shoulders and slim body always looked great in a T-shirt and even better in a suit. For a second I regretted letting Lilly take Aaron away from me and then I remembered how I spent the previous night. "Looking pretty shmick, lads!" I complimented them as soon as I opened the door.

I walked out of my room and into the kitchen slowly and deliberately. I had been practising in my high heels whenever I could for the last three weeks and luckily, I had really got the hang of it. "Hey Gemma, you look pretty amazing yourself," Aaron commented with his broad cheeky smile that I always found adorable. I met Tyler's gaze and we exchanged looks, we both shared a dirty secret and it was fun keeping it from everyone.

"Hi Gemma," Tyler grinned, "You look great."

"Thanks," I smiled at them both.

"Wow, you look incredible!" enthused Aaron again. He must be really be taken with me, I thought. I suddenly grew taller with pride, knowing that Aaron couldn't help but tell me twice how gorgeous I was. Maybe he did have a crush on me, maybe all this dancing together did have an effect on him and maybe if I told Lilly that he meant something to me she'd move on and let us be together. My mind was a whir of possibilities.

"Oh don't look yet! I look stupid without the dress!" Lilly said shielding her face from her boyfriend. He approached her, leaned in and gave her a charmingly sweet kiss on the cheek. Oh, Aaron wasn't talking to me. I suddenly shrunk a little.

"It looks great, Lill! I can't wait to see the dress."

"Well, you'll just have to wait an hour and a half when the limo comes!"

"Oh, I can't wait that long! It's not fair! You get to see me in my penguin suit now and I have to wait."

"Take it off then," Lilly teased Aaron.

"You'd like that."

I didn't like watching Aaron and Lilly getting chummy like that, especially since my 'boyfriend' was standing right next to me and we couldn't do anything. I knew that given the chance we could easily out-cute Lilly and Aaron easily.

Mum decided that all this small talk was harming us, "Gemma, you're going to have to go soon. I don't want to rush you or anything but you don't want to be late. Tyler, you do know where the school hall is, don't you?" The press conference was taking place at the school hall, where the Debutante Ball would later take place. Mrs. Higgins, the principal decided that doing it at the school hall would show that the school was behind my participation 100%.

"Mum, I can direct him. I think I know where the school is," I rolled my eyes and looked like the most sarcastic princess that ever lived.

"Don't be cheeky, Miss. I can still pay you back for cutting up MY dress." The look in her eye told me she wasn't necessarily joking.

"OK, OK, OK. Mum, can you give Lilly and Alana a ride home? We're going to be late if we do."

Steam started to appear emanating from my Mum's ears. I wouldn't have pushed her but I didn't want to be late, you couldn't really keep the Australian media waiting. "But Gemma, I have to get my make-up on and get the cheese platter ready and get dressed," she huffed little a little steam engine, "I thought you were taking them home."

"We were but we'll be late if we do!" I said in a whine that sounded a lot more like Nicole than I ever wanted to.

"Oh, Gemma," I could see Mum weigh up the pros and cons of saying 'no', "I suppose I can but I'm going to be all in a rush. You girls ready to go now?"

Lilly and Alana looked terrified as if their parents had never had loud, slightly angry conversations like this. "Yes, Mrs. Taylor," Alana answered politely, "We'd walk but we need to get dressed ourselves."

"Yes, it looks like we're all in a disorganized rush," Mum was already heading toward the door, cheese platters, make-up and my Aunt Ros's sleeping arrangements all on her mind. "OK, everyone who's going in my car, let's roll. Gemma, I'll see you tonight." She leant over and kissed me on the cheek, "Mwah, I love you."

"I love you too, Mum." And with a flurry of feet and a bang of a door; Tyler, Aaron and I were alone in my house. We took in a moment of silence and the whir of the busy day started again.

"You ready to go, kiddo?" Tyler asked.

"Just got to get my gloves and we're out of here."

"What about you, stretch?" he asked Aaron.

Aaron tugged at his vest, "I'm set."

"OK, let's go meet the press."

It was funny to think that the day had almost passed completely and the night was on its way. It had all been a surreal blur of dresses, hair, eyeliner and saying 'Wow' a lot. I had thought a lot about this day. For a while I thought about dancing with Holly, holding her soft, beautiful body close to mine and perhaps kissing her and then I thought of it as a terrible joke played on girl in order to make fun of their femininity, more recently I saw it as a day where you wear a dress, you dance and everyone looks at you. It had meant many things to me and now it was happening I didn't really know what it meant. Was I denouncing everything I was as Michael? Was I saying 'Yes' to frilly dresses, make-up and being put on display forever? Or was I just being myself and for once not caring what people were saying? I had to answer these questions as pretty soon the press might be asking me the exact same thing.

"Are you nervous?" I asked Aaron who sat behind in the back seat of Tyler's hire car.

Aaron leaned forward, "Yeah, a little bit. Not every Deb partner is subject to a grilling by The Sydney Morning Herald."

"You'll be fine, I don't think they'll be that interested in you," I assured him as pulled on an elbow length silk glove.

"Gee thanks, Taylor!"

"Just stand there and looked pretty and you'll be fine," I teased him.

And then Aaron said something that made me think maybe he did feel something for me. He said, "That's easy for you to say!"

He thought I was pretty!

"Just turn into the car park there," I pointed a long gloved finger toward the car park nearest the school hall/gym. I think a little bit of the fairytale element was tainted by the fact that the dance floor had basketball courts painted on it. Cinderella never had to dance on a free-throw line.

"OK kids," Tyler addressed me and Aaron, "Now I'll come out, address the press bring out you, Gemma. You can pose for a little bit. Then I'll announce you, Andy."

"Aaron," I corrected Tyler, although the mistake sounded deliberate to me.

"Right, Aaron. You two pose a little bit and then we'll answer a handful of questions. It should be all done in half an hour. Then I'm taking you where?"

"To Andy's house," I teased both of them in one fell swoop, "The limo is picking us up there at 5.30."

"Righto," Tyler said as he turned off the motor, "In, out and over. Remember to smile, kids." I liked it when Tyler called me 'kiddo' but there was something different in him calling Aaron and I 'kids'. In fact, Tyler had been acting cold and professional ever since this afternoon. When we were getting into the car I went to climb into the back seat with Aaron to keep him company and Tyler told me, "No, you sit in the front, I don't want to feel like a chauffeur." Either he trying too hard to make it look like we were just business associates or he was somehow jealous of Aaron.

Tyler was still man enough to come around and open the car door for me. I took his hand (Jeez, my hands are small!) and as carefully as I could, climbed out of the car. My main mission this day was not to ruin this dress but unluckily for me the dress was flawlessly white, so long and so damn puffy. I made it to the hall unscathed and walked inside. The Deb Ball committee had spent all afternoon decorating the hall and it looked very glamorous. The palate was silver and gold and everything matched; the balloons, the streamers, the curtains and the tablecloths. On stage was an ornate red settee where the Debutante would wait onstage while the pervious Debutante is being introduced. When it's your turn, your partner will come to the bottom of the centre stage stairs and offer you a rose, you stand, slowly walk down the stairs and accept his rose. From there you walk down the carpet, stop midway, walk around your partner to show off the dress, continue down the carpet, curtsey at the dignitaries and then go sit down and the whole thing starts again with another couple.

I only saw a glimpse of the hall though an opened door because I was whisked backstage. That's how I know I am a real celebrity- normal people aren't 'whisked' anywhere. "This is exciting!" I whispered to Aaron as Tyler went out to greet the media. Aaron just looked blankly through the crack in the door at the collection of journalists salivating for a taste of this story. Ignoring him I checked myself in the mirror — make-up was still intact, jewellery was all in order, not marks on the dress, 'classy' amount of cleavage on display — I was ready.

From behind the curtain I heard, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I had the pleasure of introducing this beautiful girl to you all three months ago and it gives me great pleasure to introduce her again. But she is longer a frightened, confused little girl but now an independent, intelligent and beautiful woman. She's an accomplished model, a published columnist and she is having a very special night tonight. I'd like to invite Gemma Taylor out here to pose for a few minutes, and then she'll answer some questions."

That was my cue!

Left foot, right foot. I know walking is quite easy but I was focussing hard, I didn't want to fall on my face in front of all the cameras, which would be the equivalent of falling down in a busy public street every day for the rest of my life, everyone would be watching. I delicately and as elegantly as I possibly could, walked into the room, beaming and waving. Even though I was dressed in the style of royalty, I wanted everyone to know I was still the same dorky, down to earth girl-who-used-to-be-a-boy-next-door.

"Thanks for coming," I said underneath the flury of flashes. The cameras were flashing so much that there didn't seem to be any flashes at all. I stood still and left the smile plastered on my face. I felt as if I should be doing something but the truth of the situation was I was doing all I needed to do. The people were all here to see me and I was here: job done! I slowly turned, trying to face as many cameras as possible. I didn't know what to do with my hands, so they awkwardly clung on to each other for dear life. I spun around to show the exquisite back of the dress. The cameras whirred and buzzed and I wondered if they were checking out my bum, not that they could see it under my full skirt. I glanced over at Tyler for a moment and he casually nodded like I was doing a good job.

"And please welcome Gemma's dashing dance partner, Aaron Le…" Tyler stopped mid-name, as would most people trying to read Aaron's surname for the first time. I furrowed my brow but tried to keep a straight face. It was painful seeing such a professional like Tyler fall over something as simple as a name. "Le…ka…kis," he sounded it out, "Aaron Lekakis."

The emphasis was on the wrong syllable but I'm sure Aaron was used to that. I nervously came out to join me, like a timid mouse I had trained. I held his hand and the cameras went ballistic. "You're doing good," I laughed.

"No…I'm…not!" Aaron said through gritted teeth.

"Hold her! Hold her!" came a voice from somewhere behind the flashes.

I nudged my partner, "Perhaps we should do one of the dance holds or something?"

Aaron nodded and we clumsily assumed a waltz stance. Of course, we didn't dare dance without any music by ourselves but it seemed to keep the people behind the cameras happy. We got in a few different stances, I was worried when he stood behind me and grabbed me by the waist nobody would be able to see his face but I temporarily forgot how short I was, even in heels.

"OK," Tyler announced after an arbitrary amount of time, "We have just a few minutes for some questions with Gemma. I'll let Gemma take the podium now. Gemma." Tyler used my name one too many times and confused me. I walked over to the microphone with a slightly bewildered look on my face. Despite me liking all the attention, being interviewed was tough. It wasn't like posing because you had to do more than stand still long enough so that the photo doesn't blur, or like writing in my column, where I had weeks and my own editor to make sure I don't sound stupid. All I was equipped with was my ears to hear the question, my brain to quickly think of an answer and my mouth to hopefully not garble the answer up too much.

"Hi," I squeaked, adjusting the microphone to suit my diminutive height. "It's great to see all of you interested in me on my special day. Before I start I'd like to thank Mrs. Higgins and Marrang College for supporting my efforts in participating tonight, and Aaron Lekakis," I correctly pronounced his name, "for coming out here, even though he is crapping himself." The mound of people politely chuckled.

I'm forgetting something, I told myself. "Oh!" I said suddenly, "Also thanks to Victoria Cross for my amazing dress and my sister for the hair and make-up and my Mum for putting up with me… I think that's everyone." I felt myself babbling but I just couldn't stop. "Oh yeah! And Tyler, my publicist, who is totally ace. OK, questions?"

Hands skyrocketed into the air, like I was a schoolteacher and I just asked a roomful of preps a really easy question. I blindly pointed to someone and said "You."

"How are you feeling about tonight?"

"Well, it's a special night in a lot of students' life and it's not different for me. I mean, I attended rehearsals and learnt how to dance and walk 'properly'," I mined the air-quotes, "I've been fitted for a dress and I've got butterflies in my stomach, just like every other girl at my school."

The man butted in with his follow up, "But you're not like every other girl, are you?" It was a sharp turn I was expecting, just not in the first minute.

"That's true," I nodded, "My journey has been quite different because three months ago I attended the first rehearsals as a boy. And then something happened to me. SGR changed me while the whole world watched. Since then I've been trying to figure out exactly who I am and how much gender plays a role in that."

Another question from the same guy, "And how much of a role does it play?"

Tyler jumped to my defence, "We'll move on to someone else, if that's OK?"

"No," I said, "It's OK. I've discovered that gender does affect who you are, of course it does. It affects what people expect from you and affects the way that you interact with other people. I still like the same music as before and the same movies, I didn't start putting unicorn pictures on my bedroom walls or anything. But being a girl has allowed me to talk more openly to my friends and family about my feelings which has been a great benefit," I coughed and looked out at the people hanging on my every word. I abruptly began to doubt that I was making much sense. "I think I'm rambling here but you get my point."

Tyler took the role of a MC and fielded another question for me. "Hello Miss Taylor. What are you feeling about wearing just a magnificent dress?"

"Umm, a couple of months ago you wouldn't have got me anywhere near a dress. But now I am content in who I am, so I can reveal to you that I am thrilled that it looks so good. Victoria Cross did a great job. I'm not really shaped like a model but I think I look beautiful in it, and I'm proud of looking beautiful! I'm just scared of ruining it." A mild chuckle trickled through the audience.

"So how would you rate your dancing skills?" Yay! This was the type of question that was easy to answer. Just remember my humility.

"I think me and Aaron are equal on the number of times we've stood on each others' feet," I sheepishly smiled, "We're not the best dancers around but we're not going to embarrass ourselves too much. Mum will be proud."

"OK, what's better boy or girl?" Of course that question was going to come up.

"You're not going to get definitive answer from me, I'm afraid. Sorry. I mean, well, there are things I miss about being a guy, like not having paparazzi following me around. And being a girl does have its upsides like being sent free stuff, like clothes all the time. See? I can only talk about my experiences. Overall, they're pretty even. I loved being a guy and I am really enjoying who I am now, but it took me awhile to realise that just being true to myself was the most important part. Clichéd, I know but umm, that's life."

"What do you say to the people who are opposed to your inclusion in tonight's proceedings?" A question I had expected but was not thrilled about answering.

"It's a shame people don't think I'm worthy to be a debutante after I have so diligently followed all of the rules that the school has regarding the Debutante Ball. But I have a right to participate and I'm going to."

The reporter asked a follow up question, "I think people are worried about you stealing the limelight from the other girls. What's your feelings?"

"Well, that why I am here right now. I mean, it not really me 'stealing the limelight' as much as it is you guys forcing me into it. If I don't see another photographer all day, I'd be happy. I don't want to ruin everyone's night, tonight. I don't want this night to be all about me, believe me. These last few months have been all about me and I'm kinda bored with it now. So, if you all allow me to have some privacy tonight you'll be making a lot of girls happy."

"OK," Tyler said, "Last question." I let my concentration fail for a second and I pictured Tyler roughly taking me from behind, his large hands holding my tiny waist, my moans probably waking up everyone in the hotel. My body felt on fire with each thrust. I wondered if he was available tonight, after the Deb.

"Miss. Taylor, have you been in contact with John Draffen at all? What do you think his thoughts on you being a Debutante tonight would be?"

Upon hearing that name I snapped back into reality. I tried not to think about Mr. Draffen much because I recognised a lot of myself in him. The only difference being I wasn't surrendering to the dark thoughts. I had chosen to embrace my new gender even though I missed my old one; Mr. Draffen just locked himself away from the world and refused to do anything productive with his unique situation.

"I have had a brief conversation with John Draffen," I told the press, "While he hasn't coped as well as I have, I think he would be proud to see me being true to myself and learning to overcome my critics."

That wasn't true, last thing John/Kate Draffen said to me was, "Don't forget — You are Michael," so I doubted he would be proud to see me being true to myself and overcoming my critics. He was one of my critics. I thought about Draffen as I thanked and press and hastily exited. I wondered if Kate was ever a debutante. Did she ever don a beautiful gown and dance nervously in front of her family, friends and a room full of people? Did John/Kate ever stare into his partner's eyes as they danced? Maybe my triumphant night tonight would encourage him to fight his demons, but I doubted it. He hadn't even replied to the letter I wrote him and that was two months ago.

The Deb here we come!

****

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story is amazing. Thank you so much to everyone who has ever e-mailed or commented, it means a huge amount.

Kate Draffen (Chapter 40)

By Swishy

Gemma Taylor is a 17-year-old girl living in a town in Australia. She was once Michael Taylor until she became Australia's second sufferer of SGR. Over a period of three months she has learnt a lot about being a 'her' but even more about being herself. Her Debutante Ball is on tonight and you are all invited.

The Last Chapter.

CHAPTER 40

Marrang doesn't really seem like the type of town that would do a roaring trade out of Limousine hire but the night of the Deb Ball the town was full of them. Well, maybe not full but there were three. One that was mainly for weddings in the town and two more brought down especially from Geelong to cash in on students who thought it was important to arrive at the Deb Ball in limos. Most people were getting driven there by their parents, but that wasn't good enough for the A Group. They needed everything to be perfect otherwise the night and thus the rest of their life would be ruined. I knew that my life didn't really need another limo but Alana and Lilly were my friends and I wanted to share their excitement.

Aaron was a little confused. "So, we rushed to my house from school so that we could get into a limo and drive to school again?" he asked, looking out the window.

"I know, it's kinda dumb," I agreed while checking my dress for marks, "But we're going the long way to school so you can enjoy the ride." The limo had been driving around the town picking up all the couples, Aaron and I were the last stop before school. My phone beeped and told me that they weren't far away.

"Should I give you my present now?" Aaron asked me. It was tradition that a Debutante and her partner exchange presents on the day. I'm not sure who came up with that idea but everyone seemed to follow it. The girls usually bought the boys something like a hip flask, a nice pen or something else like that; boring and adult. The girls tended to receive flowers or jewellery or something along those lines.

"Mum has your present," I sheepishly explained, "I forgot to bring it with me."

"Doesn't matter," he said as his broad frame disappeared through a door, "I can still give you yours." I liked Aaron's house. He wasn't rich like Alana and he wasn't poor like my family was, it was just a nice, roomy home. Framed photographs of his family filled all available wall space. It was interesting to see Aaron through the years, getting fatter and fatter until one photo where it turned around and he became the muscular, broad guy he now was. Although it was sad to see a family photo in a hospital room and then no more photos of Aaron's Mum.

"Wow," I looked amazed at a photo that must have been only a year or two old, "You were quite portly." I tried to phrase my words nicely, but it did sound mean.

"And you, were rather butch, Gemma," Aaron smiled to let me know he was just teasing. "But we've changed," he flexed an arm but the tuxedo hid the bulge of his muscle. He handed me a small, immaculately wrapped present.

"Both for the better, I think," I said, "It would have been impossible to think that Chubby Lekakis would be taking Michael Taylor to the Deb Ball as his partner and that we'd be arriving in a limo with the Group A crowd."

"Or that your boobs would be bigger than mine," Aaron did have a hefty pair of man-boobs. I laughed as I fumbled with the wrapping paper; it was hard unwrapping things while wearing silk gloves. Both Aaron and I had changed a lot over the past few months and I think that was one of the reasons we had become close friends. Here we were surrounded by all this attention and acclaim, not used to being treated so well by our new 'popular' friends. Aaron Lekakis was much more of my male counterpart than John Draffen because Aaron was embracing the change, he had himself a Group A girlfriend, but he also didn't forget where he came from and was still friends with his peer group before he slimmed down and bulked up to his very pleasing size.

It was a jewellery box. A small, black wooden box with ornate painting all over the lid, it was simply gorgeous.

Aaron nervously rubbed the back of his neck, "I know you've probably got all of the 'girl' things you need but my sister said girls can never have too many jewellery boxes."

It was a touching gesture and I smiled warmly at him, "Thanks." He looked remarkably cute and I wished I could have given him a peck on the cheek, but settled on a hug instead.

"Open it," he instructed. The latch popped open and I lifted the lid. A couple, poised for dancing, began doing so as the jewellery box chimed its merry tune. She was dressed in a beautiful gown and he in a tuxedo. They were about one inch tall but their diminutive size did not dwindle their desire to dance.

"Oh, it's a music box too!" I sighed.

"Yeah, I think that's supposed to be man and wife, but it sorta doubles for us, right?" he sounded worried that I would take it as some sort of coded marriage proposal.

"Aaron, it's awesome and I totally don't have a jewellery box. You did good." The horn for the limo beeped and we scurried to get ready. I secretly wished Lilly would break up with him in the limo so that I could ask him out. I just hoped he would like the present I got him; two tickets to The Killers concert in Melbourne.

And I hoped he'd take me.

***

"So do you think Holly is going to do anything crazy tonight?" asked Becca.

The limo was very packed for two reasons: 1) It was expensive, so more people meant less money and 2) Group A was a tight-knit group and they all wanted to share this day together. Inside the limo was Alana and Tall-Jason, Lilly and Louis, Becca and Matty and lastly, me and Aaron. The rest of Group A had hired one of the other limos. It was a tight squeeze and 'unfortunately' I was practically on Aaron's lap, much to the chagrin of Lilly.

"Why would she do anything crazy?" asked Alana.

"Cos," reminded Becca, "She went on A Current Affair whinging about Gemma. She's such a bitch!" It was weird hearing that from Becca, who I considered to be the most congenial of the Group A girls.

Tall-Jason commented, "What she going to do: rip off her dress and demand everyone look at her?"

"Everyone is going to be looking at her anyway, Sobey is the worstest dancer there!" Matty laughed at Sobey's two left feet. It was true, I was quite an accomplished dancer and Holly's replacement partner spent most of the time looking at his feet and still getting it wrong.

Holly had not said a word to me for months now. At first, I was hurt. She was a really good friend and I didn't have a clue what had made her so despondent to me. I mean, I could understand her not wanting to continue her friendship with a 'freak' but outwardly campaigning against me was such a low blow. That didn't endear her to anyone. She used to be a social butterfly, flittering between different cliques and charming everyone but now she spent every lunchtime behind the Art room with her grungy boyfriend. Rumour had it that she was going to change schools as soon as the Deb was finished, but at Marrang College there wasn't necessarily truth behind every rumour.

"You are so going to show her when you arrive looking so beautiful, Gemma," Lilly gushed.

"I'm don't think you can win back friends with just a pretty dress," I told Lilly, "Holly didn't want me doing the Deb at all, so looking good is just going to annoy her." I felt a pang of smugness knowing that I really did look quite good.

"Well, you're going to be tons more pretty than her, she has a weird shaped nose," Becca informed me. I hadn't noticed, when I had a crush on her she was easily the most beautiful girl in the world.

The conversation, thankfully, drifted away from the topic of Holly. Being in a limo, on the way to a ball, with us all looking as close to a million dollars as possible was far too overstimulating to keep us focused on any topic for too long. We laughed, complimented each other, and gossiped about our dresses and what we thought the other girls would wear. The night was a whirl of excitement and I couldn't help but enjoy every second of it. Being the 'cool kids' of course we all had a cheeky champagne, clinking our glasses merrily. Alcohol was banned at the event itself and most of us were still two years away from the legal drinking age but it lent itself to the sense of occasion.

We all arrived at the school hall like movie stars, being in the A Group was a lot like being a movie star, everyone gossiped about you, was interested in your private life and was quite happy to see you fall from grace. In some ways however, there were a few things different from our arrival to one of movie stars arriving at a film premiere-
1) We weren't being paid $10 million a movie, most of us were being paid minium wage at Red Rooster.
2) We weren't walking into a glorious theatre, it was more a hall/basketball courts.
And…
4) There were no photographers clamouring to take our photos.

None. All of the media had paid attention to our press conference and have left me to have my special night alone. I thought maybe one or two may break the rules and security would have to escort them away but it appeared like the press had given me a break. I was almost disappointed.

We emerged out of the limo and into the car park, laughing and joking as teens often do. The thrill and excitement of the night entered my lungs and lit up my eyes. Alana, Becca and Lilly all looked amazing and they all wore very different dresses. When I was a boy, I have to admit that all the dresses kinda looked the same: white, silky and bridal. The main difference to me was whether or not the dress showed some cleavage or none at all. Mine showed cleavage, with boobs like mine you kinda had to, but now as a woman I could notice all the delicate stitching and incredible detail that went into it. Alana's dress was a simple dress, with a sleek bodice that had spaghetti straps and a straight skirt, Lilly's was long, flowing and backless, exposing her toned back, Becca went a little too frilly I think with bows and lace all about the place. The boys all wore identical suits and probably only noticed which dresses showed cleavage.

We were the last couples to arrive at the hall. Becca's Mum was like the head of the Deb Committee or something like that so we were all able to scam the last photo times. Each couple had to have their photos taken by a professional photographer and since there were 25 couples and each couple took like 5 minutes to photograph, some couples had to be at the school, dressed and ready 2 whole hours before we arrived. Naturally, those couples felt a little cheated when almost the entirety of the A group had the best photo times. But I had an excuse, I had a press conference, so I didn't feel as bad as I probably should.

The backstage area was filled with mini brides and their partners. Some gossiping and admiring, a card game had broke out between the people who had been there for hours. The room was excited and bored at the same time, everyone itching to get in front of the crowd. I stood back as Alana and Lilly squealed and gushed over some of the other A Group members, Alison looked stunning and so did Danielle. They weren't Group A girls for no reason.

"Oh wow! I love the hair!"

"So you decided to wear the longer gloves? Cool!"

"Oh my god! Losing that weight was sooo worth it!"

"The tiara really suits you, Lilly!"

The circle of girls was a flurry of genuine compliments and general squealiness. I stood just on the outside, looking in at the storm of flattery. As much as I was a good friend of these girls I was still a little shy. I wasn't officially a Group A girl, mainly because I shared my friend time between them and Dot, Glen and Kev, but also because I wasn't 'officially' a girl either. While the Group A girls all treated me so nice, I knew that they were more fascinated by me as an experiment than as a dear friend.

"Wow, Gemma," Danielle said, widening the circle to envelope me, "Your dress is amazing!"

"Thanks," I said with just a hint of shyness, "You're looking tops, yourself! Love your hair." The hair compliment was genuine, I had become better as noticing things that girls notice and Danielle's long black hair looked great, all curly and piled atop of her head.

"You're just saying that because your sister did it!" Danielle laughed.

"Really? I didn't know, I promise!" Nicole was a much better stylist than I gave her credit for.

Someone broke out a camera phone and we all started posing, then someone else's camera was revealed and soon small talk could only happen between forced smiles and poses. "So, have we missed much?" asked Lilly.

Alison, always abreast of the news began, "Well, Greta and Marissa are totally wearing the same dress! Marissa claiming the Greta stole her idea and Greta claiming the same. Stupid arty girls!"

"Holly is totally wearing a blue dress," Danielle whined, "She claims it's close enough to white but it's so fucking blue. Pale blue is still blue." The rule was that white was the only colour to be worn, slightly off-colour variants were frowned upon.

"She just wants to stand out," Lilly sighed, "Look at me, I'm Holly! I'm not wearing white!" Lilly rolled her eyes. I scanned the room and saw a light blue shimmer sitting with a bunch of boys. Holly did, despite my ill feelings towards her, look good. The pale blue dress definitely did stand out amongst the sea of white but so did the girl. She looked beautiful but hurt, like a wounded deer. While all the other girls chatted eagerly to each other about how absolutely nervous they were and who from their families were coming, Holly sat with the boys being totally quiet. If she did want to stand out, she was doing a splendid job.

"She's so gloomy, such a total wannabe emo."

I was going to say something either scathing or defending Holly but before I could decide Aaron came strutting over to the group of girls. "Aaron scrubs up well, hey Lil?" Alison gave a cheeky smile over to Lilly.

"I know, he's not too bad," Lilly smiled as she hugged him around his waist.

"Hey baby," Aaron said as he involuntarily wore Lilly like a belt, "I've just come to get Gemma." I inwardly smiled. "It's about time we head over to get our pictures done."

"I thought you'd be over photos by now!" Alana joked.

"Yep I am, but my Dad 'paid good money' for these ones," Aaron imitated his Dad's gruff voice.

Lilly loosened her grip on her boyfriend and I stepped in. If only she could do the same with the relationship, I thought to myself. Two months ago Aaron and I kissed while waves crashed over us. It was romantic to say the least and while it was obvious that we both like each other, it wasn't fair to Lilly. So we sweared to never mention it again and Aaron kept up his end of the deal. A part of me wanted him to let something slip so that Lilly would break up with him and I'd have him to myself but I'm not sure if it would be worth the banishment from the A-girls. Our little descretion would have to remain just that, a little discretion.

I was sick of posing too, but these photos would be a keepsake that I would look back on in years time. The photographer, a weedy little man with thinning hair, stood me in the exact same poses that all the other girls before me had done: sitting in a chair with my hand brushing my cheek, standing with my back to the camera and turning slightly, sitting on the chair while Aaron stood behind me. It was all so static, where was the sense of movement and individuality. I had been a model for some of the finest photographers in Australia and this was the exact opposite of how to take a great picture. I grimaced in pain as I bit my tongue. I was accustomed to a higher level of photographer. I breathed in and tried to think rationally. No use throwing a tantrum just because the photographer isn't world class, this poor man was on couple 23 of 25 and I'm sure the night was dragging on a fair bit. Was I going to throw a hissy fit because I wasn't going to be photographed 'properly'? No, but it annoyed me that the situation annoyed me so much. I needed Dot to deflate my ego right about now.

"Enjoying your night, Gemma?" asked the photographer with a mousy voice that creeped me out a bit.

"Umm…" I said, frozen in my pose, "Yeah."

"Well, you look fabulous," he told me. The compliment didn't splash refreshingly over me like they usually do but instead seemed sticky and gross. "Very feminine." I noticeably shuddered.

Soon after our photographer was finished with us the whole group was assembled for the group photo. Because I was on the shorter side I was in the front line, while my taller friends stood behind me. The boys stood behind them on the portable steps that the school choir use, they all jostled and joked. I thought a bit about how if life had been different that I would be standing there in my suit, joking and jostling. I often missed being a guy, there was a lot of things about it I liked and being able to joke and mess around all the time was one of them.

But the feeling of my silk gloves was a reminder that I was no guy. I had been a girl for a quarter of a year and was quickly getting used to it. Being in my old body was fast becoming little more than a vapour of a memory and this body was pretty familiar to me now. Although, I was learning new stuff about this body all the time, for instance I can no longer arch only one eyebrow up but I have gained the talent of being able to clover my tongue. I liked this body; it was compact, fit, flexible and was good at attracting members of the opposite sex.

I also liked my smile. It was cute, more of a grin to be honest, a cheeky grin like I was up to no good. I grinned towards the camera sitting amongst the other students. The weedy, creepy photographer took a couple of pictures trying to get us all to say words like 'Cheese' but of course with a room full of excited teenagers that is a tricky feat to pull off.

"OK everyone, quiet!" We were addressed by the principal, Mrs. Higgins. I wasn't listening as much as I was staring at her bright white hair. She wore a baggy, daggy black dress and gaudy jewellery. Whenever the school had an event it seemed like she always wore the same baggy, daggy formal dress. "Year 11s! Please settle down!" It appeared we were a little noisier than usual. The roar of the crowd dwindled to a murmur and then a general hubbub. Mrs. Higgins continued, "Thank you, students. It really is a pleasure to see you all dressed in such a lovely manner, you all look so grown up. Now it is important that your behaviour matches your attire. Tonight you are all ambassadors of the school and you are expected to…" I tuned out at looked at my fellow Debutantes. Some dresses were simple, some were extravagant. Some were obvious hand-me-downs while others had cost more than they should. All the girls looked so grown up: Selma looked like a woman not the nerdy girl at the front of the class, Alana looked like a model and I couldn't help noticing that I resembled a bride. Would I ever be wearing a white dress for that purpose? Would I surrender to my new gender completely and play the role of wife? I didn't know, maybe for the right boy. I shivered a little and didn't quite know why.

Mrs Higgins prattled on, "…I ask all of you to avoid the 'parties' afterwards…" After Deb parties were almost as big as the Deb itself. The school, of course, disapproved because there was always alcohol involved and sometimes the police would have to turn up. Being a Group A girl I had already received an invite to all of the hottest parties and Mum had already bought me a 6 pack of brightly coloured Vodka Cruisers. The benefits to being popular were endless. But I was unsure about attending any of the parties, Tyler had offered that I sleep over at his hotel room again and the thought of enjoying myself with him made my nipples ache. The night was still young and full of possibilities.

I must have drifted off thinking about a night spent with Tyler between my thighs because before I knew it we were being lined up in preparation to go onstage. I was close to the start because even in my heels I was still a shade or two shorter than most girls. I wasn't the shortest though, which made me happy to no end. The boys were escorted away to their entrance and then the show creaked a little closer to beginning.

The Debutante Ball, I was a part of it. Actually, a big part of it, while most of the audience in attendance was there to see one particular Debutante or partner, pretty much everyone was interested in me. I was national news and when national news walks past you in an elegant gown, you stare. But it wasn't just a momentous occasion for me, all the girls were breathing faster and wriggling nervously. "When are we going to start?" Alison asked me, looking at clock on the wall, "It's already 5 past." It was late starting, of course it was, things like this always get started late.

Since I didn't see the events unfolding I only heard them, I'll try as best to describe them. Mrs. Higgins came onto the stage, there was a mild sprinkling of applause, she started another long speech… I tuned out… she brought on the school captains to do a speech… I tuned out again. For a night that was all about the dresses there was a lot of talking going on. I nervously balled up my fists and tightly closed my eyes, this was the big one. I couldn't believe I was actually going to go through with this. I had gone through the process over one hundred times in my head.

The seemingly unending tide of speeches actually finished and our school's string quartet began to play. The sound was pleasant, if not perfect. They played some classical song that I had heard many times before but didn't know the name of. That was a sign to everyone that it had really begun and I heard the sharp intake of nervous breaths. Beth, the shortest girl in our Deb group, pulled back the curtain and escaped into a world where she was now a Debutante. "Beth Kapp is the daughter of Craig and Debra Kapp of Murphy's Creek," began Mrs. Coleman, our dance instructor and host of the evening. Mr. Coleman introduced her partner, a shy almost mute boy who I had never talked to. I wondered how proud his parents must be.

The distance between me and the curtain shrank a little as my nerves slowly got the better of me. What am I doing? Why am I standing in the school gym in a dress? It seemed like a typical nightmare, standing in school wearing something ridiculous with everyone looking. Michael Taylor didn't wear elegant dresses and then parade in front of strangers. The next girl carefully peeled back the curtain and the line moved forward. Two girls to go. I looked down and saw the vibrations caused by my pounding heart. You know your heart is beating hard when you can see it. I stood still, completely confused. Who was I? What am I doing? Should I just turn and run? I had never felt so blank, like fear had erased every thought that had ever seeped into my fragile mind.

"You OK, Gemma?"

I blinked.

"Gemma," said the voice, "Do you… do you need to sit down or something?"

I blinked again. Something was being said to me.

"You've got to go on in, like, 30 seconds."

I concentrated on trying to make those words make sense to me. After that I could figure out who I was, what I was doing and who was talking to me. I had 'to go on in, like, 30 seconds'. 30 seconds wasn't a long amount of time. I had to get myself ready to 'go on'. What did that mean? I looked around the room; there was a clock, a door, a row of teenage girls all dressed up in dresses and jewellery. Suddenly, everything snapped into place. I was Gemma Mae Taylor, I was Australia's most famous debutante and this was my night. There was only 30 seconds before I would walk into a hall filled with people wearing a Victoria Cross gown that accentuated my feminine charms.

"Sorry Lilly," I said, now with purpose in my eyes, "I totally spaced for a second."

"That's ok, I just saw you go all white and wanted to see if you were OK."

You know what? I was better than OK. I had been through a lot these past couple of months. I started this year out as an unremarkable teenage boy who did all the normal teenage boy things, he watched movies, he hung out with his friend and he harboured a crush on a girl he could never get. Then something happened. A one in a billion event. An event that would make the whole country stare at me as I transformed into a girl. And that wasn't a figure of speech, I literally turned into a girl — quite a looker too! I wasn't OK with any of it: my new body, the way my friends treated me and the attention the press paid towards me but slowly I overcame it all and began to embrace it. Until I met John Draffen, the only other person in the entire country that had been through what I had. He told me that I was wrong in accepting the changes and the proper thing to was fight back. I didn't, in fact I did the exact opposite and had sex. And then something snapped in me, I was back to square one again. Nothing made sense. I felt trapped in a body I didn't want and a mood I couldn't shake. It wasn't easy but I came to realise that with the support of my family, friends (some old and some new) and Annette I could be the person I wanted to be. Gender meant a lot, but it didn't mean everything. I didn't have choose between being a girl or being a boy. That choice was arbitrary anyway. I could just be who I wanted to be. I had all I needed to have an amazing life and I was not going to let that opportunity go.

"I'm fine," I smiled as I pulled the curtain.

"Alison is the daughter of Stephen Reid and Amanda Sorokin of Marrang." I tentatively stepped out onto stage as Alison moved from the chaise lounge down the steps to her awaiting partner. I demurely sat down and rested my folded hands on my delicate lap. I took a deep breath and stared into the bright lights. I had been onstage a lot of times in my life, in choirs and school plays and more recently as a national celebrity but stage fright was always alongside me. "Cameron Heine is the son of Doug and Mary Heine of Port Langford."

I wasn't sure what table my friends and family were on. The tables were set up along the walls, leaving a gaping expanse for the couples to dance on. I watched Alison and Cameron walk the carpet. "Alison's 50's inspired gown of delustered satin features a rose design. Contrasting panels of princess satin forms the fitted bodice and this flows into a full skirt." You had to write the description of the dress for the hosts to read. Since the only thing I knew about the dress was which end was the top I had Victoria write it for me.

"Alison enjoys playing netball and spending time with her friends and she would like to go into graphic design."

"Cameron loves playing footy, cricket and fishing. He wants to be a builder."

They bowed.

It was my turn.

"Gemma Taylor is the daughter…" Daughter. I stood proud, proud to be my mother's daughter, the country's daughter, "of Janet Taylor of Marrang." I delicately walked down the stairs, feeling the weight of 1000 pairs of eyes upon me. Waiting for me at the bottom was Aaron, smiling and holding a rose. His eyes seemed to coax me down the stairs, the sooner I got down to him the sooner he could hold my hand.

"Your look beautiful," he whispered as he handed me the rose, "and you're doing great." He must have noticed that I was a little nervous and his words filled me with confidence — I was beautiful. He took my arm and we walked down the red carpet together.

What happened next is a bit of a blur, I must admit. I know I have recalled almost every part of my life in exacting detail, but I can't tell you a lot of what happened during my walk. I remember trying to smile as naturally as possible, noticing that one of the assembled dignitaries copped a look down my top and Mrs. Coleman saying, "Gemma likes writing, swimming and watching movies and wants to work as a magazine columnist," but other than that it's fuzzy. It's weird that a moment of your life that seems so defining can be so vague in your memory. All of the surrounding moments are clear as a bell, but the one moment where I was a debutante, where I stood proud in front of an audience as a Gemma Taylor, it's nothing much more than fuzzy static.

What I do remember is the two boys rolling up the red carpet. They had to stop every few metres to make sure it was rolling straight. I'm sure Cinderella never had to wait as two Year 8 kids rolled up a red carpet before she started dancing at the ball. There were always a few reminders that confirmed although somewhat magical, my life was a long way off being a fairytale. My family's table was right behind me. I knew because I could hear the faint sound of Dot teasing me. I didn't turn around though, because Mrs. Coleman had told us that he had to sit ladylike and perfectly still while the other couples were being presented.

There was a chord from the string quartet and like we had practised we all stood up. One more chord and we all walked around, forming a circle in which we would dance. We all looked so elegant and graceful like characters from a Bronte sisters' novel. Unlike the sophisticated characters from a bygone age, I had a wedgie I really wanted to dislodge. Stupid lace undies!

Somewhere in the venue someone pressed play on a tape deck and the dreary old music whirred. Yes, a tape deck, in this day and age we were actually dancing to songs from a tape deck! I guess the string quartet simply couldn't handle the pressure of playing dancing music, walking music was their forte. I looked up at Aaron, he looked nervous and proud at the same time. He looked cute like that. He smiled at me as he placed his hand on my waist and took my hand in his.

Aaron didn't say anything out loud but I could see the metronome in his head tick away as we danced. Aaron was an excellent maths and science student and he approached dancing like he would a math problem. To him there was only one right way to do things and he was determined to get the answer right. Me, I thought that dancing was not about being right or wrong but being true to yourself, listening to the music and interpreting it as you hear it. My school of thought didn't matter because Aaron was leading, forcing me to follow the beat as strictly as he was. That was one downside to being a girl.

We danced around in the circle and I focused entirely on Aaron. He was trying so hard not to look at his feet and I subtly poked out my tongue at him the only time he did. The routine was rather easy — easy enough so the lazy and uncoordinated could still learn it. We had picked it up quickly and spent all the extra time perfecting it. Even our waltzing, which almost no one could do, looked flawless. I loved the feeling of gliding through the air.

The first dance came to an end and I was at the other end of the circle from where I started, I looked over at my family's table and saw Dot waving at me. I slid her a sly smile that I'm not sure she could have seen. "One down, one to go," sighed Aaron.

"You forgot the one we do with our parents," I reminded him. We had spent a few rehearsals going over a dance with our parents. Since my Dad wasn't around I danced with Aaron's Dad. He was a nice man with a gruff voice and a perfectly round potbelly and reminded me of when Aaron was fat. Aaron, without a mother, danced with my Mum. She loved it. She was always bragging that her and Aaron were much better than me and Aaron's Dad, I just rolled my eyes and tried to ignore her. It was good to see her dancing at this, a Deb Ball. She had missed out of hers and was so close to having none of her children participate that I think it meant a lot to her.

"We get the break before that one," Aaron said. A light dinner of finger food was going to be served to us in the school theatre as soon we finished dancing. Most of the girls however had vowed not to touch any of the food, just in case they happened to spill some on their dresses. I, partly out of peer pressure and partly out of respect to Ms. Cross, had also decided to fast, although some party pies wouldn't have gone astray.

The second song whirred into action and the circle lurched forward. This dance had Aaron hold me from behind, holding my waist tight. I liked being held like that, there was some inherent calmness in being protected like that like. Aaron wouldn't let anything hurt me. The dance was about the same difficulty as the first although the trainers had told us this was markedly harder. I looked at the other couples, all the but worst couples were in step. Holly and Sobey were, frankly, struggling, half a step behind everyone else. You could see the distress in Holly's eyes. She went to dance classes after school every week and had done since she was 6, Sobey looked like he had been given his very first pair of legs today and was still trying to figure out just how they worked. I could see a pained look in her eye, this wasn't how she wanted her night to be. As her previous partner, I was one of the best male dancers in the school, I had several musicals under my belt and was more than willing to practise until we got it right but fate took me away and she had changed.

I didn't know why Holly was being so cold to me. All my friends had told me that she had always been like this and not to be too upset by the loss of our friendship. At first she did try to befriend the new me, I went around to her house and we talked honestly at Macca's party but soon after that she drifted away, complaining about my status as a Debutante to the Australian media. That hurt, but what hurt more was the fact we hadn't spoken to each other since. Not once, not in classes, not after school on MSN or anything, nothing. We both auditioned for the school musical only a week before the Deb and we didn't even wish each other good luck as I passed her on the way in to the audition. It wasn't all her fault, I wasn't talking to her either. But it was a shame that in addition to losing my former gender I also lost her friendship.

But it was hard to linger on Holly's frown for too long, when the power of all the room's smiles was so much brighter. I laughed as Aaron twirled me a little too hard, threatening to spin me right out of the room. Everyone in the audience seemed to enjoy the dancing, whether enjoying the spectacle of teenagers ballroom dancing, or laughing at some of the other couples' missteps. The song, extremely dated, whirred to a close and we all stood still as the crowd cheered. "Give a round of applause to the Marrang College Debutante as they leave for their dinner!" said Mr. Coleman, our trainer, "They were great!" I almost detected surprise in there somewhere.

"Wow," Aaron remarked as we left the hall, finally free to move as we wanted, "No mistakes!"

"We did it!" I threw an arm around his waist as we walked. Other couples sounded as triumphant or were happily laughing about their mistakes.

"Gemma, Gemma, Gemma! How did you do?" Alanna and Lilly had already separated from their partners and were surrounding me.

"Not too bad. How about you two?"

"Louis stood on my dress, but other than that: A-double O K!" Lilly talked in riddles sometimes, but riddles that nobody could possibly unravel.

"I'm so not looking forward to dancing with my Dad!" Alana sighed.

"Me neither," agreed Alison who had found her way into the group, "He's such a dork. He is determined to embarrass me I just know it." My Dad didn't even have the decency to embarrass me. I thought about my Dad for a little, I wondered if he had been around in my life whether I would have become Daddy's Little Girl, like so many of my friends. So many of my new friends could get what they wanted if they just begged their Daddies. If Mum said 'definitely no' or 'not in a million years' that only meant that Daddy needed to be asked. I didn't have a Dad to wrap around my finger, all I had was a Mum who had suddenly gained a height and strength advantage against me. She wasn't impossible to persuade but she could defiantly be stubborn.

The food fare was fair. A range of party nibbles, little meat pies and sausage rolls, sandwiches, assorted cakes and slices. All of the girls stood well away, as if their dresses contained food magnets inside. The boys however, hoed in, making the pile of food dwindle in a flash. How my stomach longed to be a boy! It growled and tried to drag me to the table but I wasn't letting it.

"All the stuff smells so good!" cried Alana. For a skinny girl she could definitely eat a lot.

"Yeah, but none of us are willing to eat it," sighed Becca.

The boys, now brandishing food and cups of dark, sticky cola came wandering over to the girls' side of the room, unknowing of the danger of the items in their hands. The girls deftly moved, trying to avoid the more clumsy boys with the more greasy foodstuffs. "You get away from me with that Jelly slice, Jase," Alana told Tall-Jason. The boys, confused, all obeyed their partners, knowing that getting on the bad side of a Debutante is a terrible thing.

I saw the people rushing around first before I heard the sobbing. Parents and teachers zoomed about, muttering old wives' tale about how to remove stains. Someone had been hit! I couldn't see who it was because the phalanx of helpers trying to calm the Debutante down was blocking my view.

"What's going on?" asked Alison.

"I think someone got something on their dress, I think." My story was vague but I was at least sure I hadn't got any of it wrong.

"Do you know who?" Alison asked and I shook my head.

She shrugged, "Whoever it is, she is sure crying bout it loud."

I went a little closer to inspect the 'wounded'. The cry turned into a huffing sob. "It's be OK, dear," a mother said, "It's only a small drop, no one is even going to notice." That didn't stem the crying though.

I tried to wade through the sea of people trying to get a look. "Do you know what happened?" I asked Selma.

"It's Holly," she told me, "Trent Sobey dropped his pie on her dress and got sauce all over it!"

"Oh," I said quietly. Holly definitely wasn't having a fairytale night.

"Sucked in!" laughed Alana, "It's called karma."

"Totally," Lilly agreed, "Couldn't have happened to a more deserving person."

I swallowed hard and pushed through the group. Holly was looking terrible, red puffy eyes and the telltale mascara running down her cheeks. The cause of all the fuss, the stain was big, red and prominent. It stood proudly on the dress at about knee height and was being fussed over by 6 eager helpers, all with differing cleaning techniques. Looking at her this close, there was no way her dress could be called white, it was definitely blue.

"You OK?" I asked.

She looked up to see who was talking to her. "Why does this have to happen to me?" A selfish statement, sure, but who could blame her?

"It'll be OK, it's just a dress."

"Look who's talking! You're wearing a friggin' Victoria Cross gown! Your couture dress is worth more than all of ours put together! You can't tell me that you'd be fine if someone ruined yours!" She had a point. I would probably be inconsolable if anyone wrecked my dress, it meant far too much to me. It was a symbol of who I had become and my newfound love for being me.

One of the helpers rubbed some mixture into the stain, I stared at it, hoping the stain magically disappeared. It didn't. "I'm sorry, Holly. I just mean that…"

Holly sharply cut me off, "Why are you even talking to me? I thought you only talked to Alana, Lilly and Becca."

She had crossed the line, "You're the one who started to ignore me!" I didn't know why it was coming to the boil tonight, a night that I was trying so hard to get perfect.

"No way, you started ignoring me as soon as you became the perfect girl on campus."

There were so many things I wanted to say but couldn't think of a way without fighting with her. If any more words came out of my mouth they would have been spiteful or insulting. I didn't want to say them and Holly didn't want to hear them. I turned and left her alone, to cry over a silly stain on a silly dress.

I had been lucky with my transformation, I had gained so much and lost very little. Out of the things I had lost I only missed my anonymity, the pure thrill of an erection, being different than my Mum and sister, my height and my friendship with Holly. I'm not sure what I did wrong or if I did do anything wrong, I just knew that Holly and me would probably never be friends again.

Standing tall, Mrs. Higgins announced, "OK students, line up in your pairs. Time to go back into the Hall." We dutifully complied.

"Looks like Holly isn't coming," Alison said, looking over her shoulder. I spun around to see Holly sitting on a table, her feet on a chair, her face covered by her hands. It was a tragic sight and I almost felt bad for her. Almost. Sobey just stood beside her, seething at the fact that he had a duty to comfort her. Despite what a bitch Holly was, she deserved better than Trent Sobey.

So the couples filed back in to the school hall to the sound of applause. I liked having people clap wherever I go, I could get used to it. The pressure was gone now, people had seen the dress, seen me dance and now it was time for fun. After the dance with the parents the band would play for a few hours and anyone could dance. I would try and drag Dot and Glen up for a dance, shake my groove thing with the Group A girls, maybe dance with Aaron a little more (if Lilly would let me) and see how many slow dances I could squeeze in with Tyler without no-one noticing. It was going to be a great night.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Marrang College's Debutantes! OK, could the parents please join their children for one last dance!" announced Mr. Coleman. There was the reluctant groan from the seats as blushing mums and shy dads stood up to find their sons and daughters. My Dad was in Indonesia or somewhere and was missing just another one of life's important moments for his son, now daughter. Mum was the first parent on the floor, practically running to take part. She grabbed Aaron, almost forcefully, "Ready?"

Aaron swallowed, hard, as if he only just then noticed how crazy my Mum was. "Sure thing."

"I'll show you where my daughter gets her dancing talent."

I waited for Aaron's Dad for a few seconds before looking for him. Aaron's family's table was next to my family's. I scanned for Aaron's dad. He sat at the table, perfectly still, staring at me. Why wasn't he getting up? Did he want me to just dance by myself? He seemed perfectly nice at rehearsal, not one to decide not to dance for no reason. I looked at him quizzically but he seemed to look right through me, like I didn't exist.

"May I have this dance?" asked a voice. It was a voice I had heard before, a voice that I recognised but it sounded a little different. I slowly turned. He was as tall as I was short, stick thin but dressed immaculately in a black suit and dark red tie. He was better dressed than most of the Dads in the room. He held out his hand to take, like he was my Prince Charming, although both of us knew he was more the Beast in my story. Gone was his straggly beard and he wore his hair in a long ponytail. I gently put my silk-gloved hand in his.

"You look beautiful, Gemma Taylor."

"Thank you," I didn't quite know what to call me, so I decided to use the name he insisted I call him, "Kate Draffen."

He smiled gently. "Your Mum taught me the dance just before we came, so hopefully I can keep up."

"Just follow my lead," I smiled back.

The band, consisting of three men in their forties and one of their sons on drums, started up. Two steps forward, two steps back. Kate Draffen held my hands tight and danced stiffly. I was so amazed at seeing him there I didn't even think about dancing. "If anyone asks," he said in his gruff voice, "I'm your uncle."

"OK," I said, my mind still whirling madly. Kate Draffen was at my Deb Ball! He was dancing with me! There was something inherently bizarre about the moment but time wasn't slowing down enough for me to figure it out. I looked in front of me at my mother cackling while tripping over Aaron's feet. Then I saw Lilly looking so demure as her dad danced with her, she looked 8 years old. Alana's Dad was tall and good looking, just like her and they joked to each other as they danced. It was a joyous experience for everyone, for me it was mind blowing.

"Did you get my letter?" I asked Kate. I had written him a very strongly worded letter after our first meeting but had never heard anything back. I had spilled my deepest thoughts and feelings out all over the paper and the fact I never got a reply just confirmed that Kate didn't have deep feelings or thoughts at all. I told him how he had to grow up and learn to accept his new position in life and if he didn't like it he should do everything in his power to change it, things I had to learn for real, recently.

"Actually, if it wasn't for that letter I wouldn't be here, Gemma," he whispered as we spun, a twirling spiral of white satin and black cotton. He smiled to let me know that he hadn't travelled to Marrang for revenge, he was happy I had written to him. "At first your letter made me mad. I couldn't believe that anyone at all could be happy in a different body. I thought you were lying to yourself and me. But Annette kept giving me status updates and I read your column in the magazine and I realised you really are happy. Look at you, you look like an angel!"

I sighed, as if his opinion was the only one that truly mattered. It wasn't, I loved my family and friends far more than the confused and scary man that I shared one incredible thing with. But it would be foolish to ignore the effect Kate Draffen had on my life; some things good, some things bad. "So, you've learnt that there's nothing wrong with being a man?" I asked. If there was any lesson to learn in my story it was that being yourself is the most important part of being happy. Kate might not like being a man but as long as he tries to be himself, he's travelling in the right direction.

Then Kate said something I did not expect. He said, "Well, no, Gemma, I'm taking hormones, I'm going to become a woman again."

I accidentally stood on his toes in surprise. "Huh?"

"Being a woman is who I am, Gemma. I know I'm not going to look the same and I'm not going to pass for a long time but hormones and Sex Reassignment Surgery is the right path for me." He held my hand a little tighter, "I'm so proud of you, you're learnt so much. But I'm older and set in my ways. I need to be a woman to be happy. I have to be true to myself."

I let his words roll around in my head and the pieces began to fit together. It made sense. Kate's true self was entwined with being a woman, a mother, a wife. She needed her gender. Me, I was young and had no gender specific roles, I wasn't Mum's son as much as I was Mum's child. Gender wasn't that important to who I was. There was the fundamental difference between us. I was turned into a girl, Kate was turned into a transsexual.

"If you ever need someone to talk to…" I told her as the song came to an end.

The members of the band stopped making music and the crowd filled the air with clapping. But I didn't clap, I hugged my tall, skinny dance partner. "Thanks," Kate told me. We stood together, the country's entire SGR suffers in one square metre. All the gossip, all the pain, all the confusion and depression was gone. We had only lost our genders, we hadn't lost what made us humans. I had been through so much in the past three months, I was a different person, a better person.

And I think Kate was now well on the road to being a much better person too.

My night at the Debutante Ball was truly epic:
- Dot and Glen did get up and dance almost for the whole night. Stopping occasionally to make fun of me.
- I did spend a slow dance or two in Tyler's arms (and the rest of the night in his bed)
- I saw all my old friends from the hospital Dr. Chisholm, Dr. Nagra and Annette
- Alana, Lilly and I started the best conga line! We can be such dorks!
- I danced one dance with Kev and he said that meant I had to let him look at my boobs for 10 seconds
- Mum took a lifetime worth of photos and Nicole was in at least half of them
- Aaron loved his present and is going to take me with him
- Kate and I sat outside and talked for like 20 minutes. We're never going to be best friends or see everything eye to eye. But that's not important.

I think I'm going to end the story there. Don't think the real story ends there but life stories have a habit of being a lifetime long. Don't get me wrong, I think the rest of my life is going to be very exciting and I'm looking forward to it all but those 3 months are what shaped me (in more ways than one.) I'm not sure there's a moral in there but I'm not sure all stories need a moral. All I know is that I started the story thinking I was totally unremarkable and finished as a short, curvy dynamo! Take from it what you will. I really like being Gemma Taylor and probably wouldn't trade with anyone in the world.

Dot came up to me as the Ball was coming to a close. She really did look beautiful all done up. "Well Taylor, I had more fun than I thought I was going to," she punched me playfully in the arm.

"Me too," I said as I surveyed the room. It was the duty of the boys to pack up and stack all the chairs before they could head off to their various parties. They grumbled and complained, as the chairs were slowly stacked.

"That could have been you," she steadied herself and took off her high heels, suddenly shrinking.

I looked at the boys toiling away and then I looked down at the glorious white dress that clung to my supple body. I hugged myself and smiled, "I'm glad it's not."

"You know what, Hootie?" Dot said, "I'm glad it's not too." I used to think that my friendship with Dot was an unwavering constant, that sometimes it might get battered and it might get damaged but nothing could ruin it forever.

I still think that.

***

Hi guys, Swishy here. Thank you so much for all the support. Big Closet is such a great place to be a writer. All of your comments have meant something to me and they are all so well written, it makes me want to be a better writer. Thanks to Erin and everyone else.

Kate Draffen was a massive undertaking, 400+ pages and almost two years of my life. Thank you to everyone who read even a word. If you have read the whole thing through I'd love to hear your thoughts, things you liked and things you didn't, it's all good stuff. If you've never sent me an email or left a comment, that's OK too.

I will continue to do some writing, maybe some smaller stuff for now.

As always, feel free to email me any comments, questions or criticisms to [email protected] The response I get to this story is amazing. Thank you so much to everyone who has ever e-mailed or commented, it means a huge amount.

I would like to thank my little guardian angel for looking after me. Thank you so much!