Ellie and I have decided to merge our writings of Bikini Beach together and form what we will call, the "Canonical Writings" of Bikini Beach. It makes it easier for everyone to find our works in one place. As a helpful bonus, I have asked Sephrena to add a title page to the Bikini Beach series to point to all the fan fiction created for our universe and provide easy access to finding them as well.

 
[Admin note: Unfortunately there is no direct way of sorting out the separation of everyone's Bikini Beach Fiction without creating a new tag and I don't really see the need for that. This following key tag word set will lead you to all the Bikini Beach Stories in our archives that have been labeled so. Scroll through the pages to find the ones you haven't read yet and enjoy! ^^ ~Sephrena]
 
Ellie and I both thank you, our fans, for giving our stories a home here on BigCloset and a special thanks to Sephrena for assisting us.

As one of the reviewers of stories for Elrod, I've been asked about guidelines and such. Elrod had a bunch of material on his web site, but he took that all down. I had printed some of that out. I also reread all of his stories. I'm treating the material I printed, his stories, plus those stories of mine that he had reviewed for me, as "canon." Here it all is.

If you have a story you'd like me to review, in keeping with the wishes of Elrod some years ago, feel free. That's why I'm going through all this.

In either case, my e-mail is [email protected]. I'll try to get back to you quickly. Please remember, that I'm trying to have a life, and other things may get in the way.

Elrod's e-mail is [email protected]. He's also getting energy to write back, and will also review and comment on stories seeking approval.

The One Big Rule: Stories about the park don't have to be upbeat, but they should not be vicious in tone. No gratuitous violence or rape, either. The two stories that almost made Elrod close the park involved one with a slasher lose in the park and one where someone who wanted to dynamite the park and murder the Old Woman, her granddaughter, and the rest of the staff.

Also, while sex happens in these stories, it's pretty much low key and often "off camera." There's description of the excitement and the emotions, not of the athletics or the plumbing.

* * * * *

At first glance, Bikini beach looks like just another water park along the side of the highway in an unspecified, southern coastal city. On second glance, an observer might notice that most of the people going into the park were women, many of them young, scantily dressed, and very pretty.

If you parked in the lot and tried to get in, you'd be told that it was a private park, but that passes from one day to lifetime, were available. The park was for women only, but men could buy a pass. That was why there was a smaller Men's Dressing Room just inside the gate.

If you bought a pass, you'd be told that you a local health department regulation required you to shower after you changed into your bathing suits. The dressing room has banks of lockers, with benches nearby, and a row of showers along the far wall. There are mirrors on the wall with the door leading into the park. If you try to skip showering, the door won't open. Also, no matter how busy the park was, you (and your group) will be alone in the dressing room.

The water in the showers is comfortably warm. The showerheads can be adjusted to pulse, so the showers are very relaxing.

So relaxing that you won't notice the odd, pink steam that rises from the water. You will notice eventually that the water is changing you into a female. The change may start while you're still in the shower or after you get out, depending in part, on how long you stay in. If you're with others, you'll probably notice the change in them before you notice it in yourself. You may also notice the change — ongoing or complete -- in the mirrors first. Some people think that their reflection is another person at first.

You'll also find that your swim trunks have become the panty of a two-piece female swim suit, most often, a sexy bikini. Someone, usually the Old Woman who owns the park or her granddaughter, will be standing in the room with the matching top. That person will explain that the Old Woman does not allow topless bathing in the park, even for girls too young to need a top. They'll also explain that the Old Woman built the park as a refuge where women could come and not be ogled by men. The park magically changes any male who enters into a female for the length of the pass plus about twelve hours.

That's if you think to ask. Some men become mindless bimbos, women with very sexy bodies, a very low IQ, and a very high libido.

The magic of the park is pre-programmed. Most men become the sort of women they'd like to meet, often their female counterpart, although more attractive. A man looking for a sexy bed partner and nothing more will become just the sort of over-endowed bimbo he was looking for. The park "reads" the man's mental picture, which can be influenced. In "Bikini Beach: Nerds -- Fundraiser", several men voluntarily transforming were shown pictures of strippers or PLAYBOY playmates just before they went to shower and become VERY well- endowed.

New women are usually given what the Old Woman calls "training wheels", knowledge of how to dress in feminine clothes (including bras), how to fix their hair and make-up, and how to walk in high heels. When they look, they'll find that the clothes and personal items they put in their locker have become the feminine equivalents.

Grandmother and Anya use a spell that allows them to read minds. They've been fooled in the past by people who wanted to use the park's magic for bad reasons, so they use the spell to find out the truth. (See my own stories, "Bikini Beach: Mama's Boy" and "Bikini Beach: Child Star.")

The magic can change a male's personality or memory as well as his body and clothes. It can also alter his reality, so that, for the length of the pass, he was born and has lived his life as the female he has become.

The male (or someone else who knows about the park and speaks to the Old Woman beforehand) can "customize" the body (and mind) of the person the male becomes. Age and race can easily be changed. If the new woman becomes pregnant (unless the man and the Old Woman had intended this before the change), the woman cannot change back.

The pass can't be transferred or returned. There was one case ("Bikini Beach: Gift Certificate") of a man buying a pass and giving it to a friend who used it. The friend was changed, and they had a night of sex, but the pass then corrected the situation. The friend changed back, and the one who had bought the pass was changed.

Price of the pass is never mentioned. It's high, but the price can be changed to make it more reasonable if the Old Woman or Anya want to get a particular person. The Old Woman also offers a special rate for them members of military families (whether any are male or not). She also has a special single mother rate for a lifetime pass for a mother and young child or children. This rate can also be used by a wife wishing to change her husband into a young daughter. It includes day care for a "Mommy's Day Off."

The water in any of the rides will also change a male ("Bikini Beach: Midnight Swim). The magic usually only works once, but the Old Woman can modify the change, affecting personality or age of the transformed woman, for example. Water from the park will even change people outside of the park. ("Bikini Beach: Revenge of the Nerds")

Woman, who have longer than a one-day pass, use the Women's Dressing Room on subsequent visits.

Males will be alone when they transform, but may find other women in the Men's Dressing Room when they are dressing to leave the park.

Staff members wear swimsuits with pink T-shirts that have the park name written in a script in a different shade of pink. The park logo is painted in pink on the side of the green pick-up truck that JENNY MICHAELS drives.

The park is open from 10-6 on Sundays, 11 to 9 Monday through Saturday. It closes during heavy rainstorms, especially lightning storms.

The city has some military bases, and is a destination for northern college students on spring break. That's ALL that's every specified. Don't guess or name a city or drop in any recognizable local landmarks.

THE OLD WOMAN is a magic user of considerable power and indeterminate age. She sailed for America in her teens aboard the Titanic. She was involved many years later in a tremendous battle with her daughter, a powerful, evil, and power-seeking wizardess, that left her traumatized and somewhat weakened, so that she is now restricted in her magic to the gender-changing (and related) magic she uses for the park. She also is under a sort of "probation" by the Wizards' Council. The SRU Wizard, an old friend, is watching her for them.

No one knows the Old Woman's name, not even ANYA, her granddaughter. Read "Bikini Beach: In the Beginning" by Elrod for details (also about the Old Woman's powers, the battle, and her status with the Wizards' Council). She is referred to as the Old Woman, Grandmother (as a sign of endearment by many who know her), or Boss (by her employees. She looks about sixty and a bit overweight, though her magic could change her appearance. She is not unattractive, but mostly doesn't care how she looks. She can dress as the consummate professional when she needs to. She treats her staff very well, offering meal breaks, free drinks on hot days, study time for employees still in school, and very good medical and dental benefits, including pregnancy and maternity care.

Grandmother is very proud of the park. She works at making it an enjoyable experience for all her customers, even the born women, who never experience the magic. She has sent ANYA to look at other water parks around the country and is currently planning a major expansion with RONNIE HARRIS financing and GREG working as part of the design. She lives in one of RONNIE HARRIS'S condos across the highway from the park.

She uses her magic to protect the park and the privacy of its patrons. She's also built a very high fence around the park and won't install security cameras (not even when someone was vandalizing the park in "Bikini Beach: A Private Matter.") She can be vengeful or nasty, but she also has a mischievous sense of humor. All these are reflected in the "automatic" version of the magic that performs the transformations.

They are more apparent in some of the stories, where she takes a hand. In "Bikini Beach: Skinheads", she turned three tattooed, arrogant neo-nazis into a Black, a Latina, and an Oriental who would only cause trouble for the "men who get them pregnant." Those three kept their memories. The two males in "Bikini Beach: Gatecrashers" forgot their original identities becoming boy-crazy teens. She also has a soft side. In "Bikini Beach: Sugar and Spice", she used the park's magic to save a marriage and a family by changing a toddler who'd become retarded because of a botched surgery on his genitals when newborn into a girl who'd never had the surgery. The girl was a bright, happy child, not the male child whose mental problems had caused a severe strain on his family.

The OLD WOMAN has been horribly hurt by men ("BIKINI BEACH: CUSTOMER SERVICE"). Sometimes, if she loses her temper, this has been reflected in her transformations. This worries her. There is a "dark side" to the magic she uses (much like the Force in STAR WARS. Giving in to anger or fear allows that dark side to influence the magic user, and THE OLD WOMAN fears this happening to ANYA -- or to herself.

ANYA is the OLD WOMAN'S granddaughter and a powerful magic user in her own right. The OLD WOMAN has trained her in both magic and the business of running the park. ANYA has traveled to other cities to check out other water parks. She is a very attractive brunette just past her 23rd birthday. At 23, a magic user gains the ability to move between realms, which means that she can get advanced training in wizardry. She's "on the cusp of new powers.... [her] values and judgment are going to be tested in ways... [she]could never predict...[and] be confronted with forces and people who are...black as night,...trying to turn...[her] to their own evil ends." (from "Bikini Beach: In the Beginning")

In the past, she's deferred to her grandmother's decisions, but she's begun questioning decisions (transformations0 that she disagrees with and setting up a Bikini Beach Support Group (for transformees stuck as women and having trouble adjusting to the change; "Bikini Beach: Customer Service") against her grandmother's wishes. Thus alarms the OLD WOMAN who remembers the rebellious attitudes of ANYA'S mother. (Again, see "Bikini Beach: In the Beginning.")

For the most part, ANYA is a happy well-adjusted young woman, if a bit exuberant. She has her own sense of humor and sense of justice, and these have been seen in the stories. Anya likes to relax and party, often going out clubbing with Dani from Spells 'R' Us, ELIZABETH NELSON, JENNY MICHAELS, and VICKY MARTIN. She's had a number of boyfriends and is sexually active. One previous boyfriend, Jake, was voluntarily transformed into a woman. She kept the new reality and, as Jana, is now Jana, a rising police officer. Her current boyfriend, Greg, is also aware of the park. He often transforms, picking different female shapes and spends time with ANYA as Gwen. They are somewhat serious in their relationship.

ELIZABETH NELSON was born Arnold Nelson, an old man suffering from Alzheimer's Disease. ANYA took pity on him when she saw that his family was tired of caring for hi and wanted him to die. The magic of the park transformed Arnold into a 19-year old woman with no trace of the disease. ELIZABETH isn't a knockout; she's more the wholesome, "girl-next-door", tall and slender, well-tanned, with her long dark blonde hair worn in a ponytail. She's an enigma to the guys she meets; wise beyond her tears, but innocent as a girl. Arnold Nelson grew up during the Depression and was a Marine in World War II. Elizabeth (named for Arnold's wife) is the chief lifeguard. She teaches swimming classes every weekend (and during the summer) at the park's Junior Lifeguard Academy. ELIZABETH lives in one of the condos in RONNIE HARRIS' building.

JENNY MICHAELS was Jim Michaels, an unemployed middle-aged handyman. Kim grew up on his family's farm. When the family lost the farm, he did a few years in the Navy before coming to the city where the park is located. He's a skilled jack-of-all-trades, but he lacked the formal education to get a good job. When Grandmother hired her to care for the machinery of the park, she became the youthful JENNY. JENNY takes after Scotty in STAR TREK: the park's machinery is her "baby", and woe to anyone who damages anything. JENNY has long, wavy red hair; a modest figure; but perky breasts; narrow waist; well- rounded butt; and long, sexy legs. Her voice is soft and feminine. She is still having trouble adjusting to her new sexuality and is somewhat attracted to both men and women, but more-so to women. JENNY also lives in one of RONNIE HARRIS'S condos, and has personal use of the truck she drives for the park.

THE FOUR GIRLS: four frat boys from the local college snuck into the park late one night with VICKY MARTIN to try to ride the rides because they couldn't afford passes. ("Bikini Beach: Midnight Swim") They did damaged several of the rides, total cost almost $20 thousand. The water they came in contact with changed them all into girls. Grandmother threatened them with arrest, and they agreed to work of the damage. It will take at least two years of part-time work, and they'll be female until the damage is paid. Everyone remembers them as girls, and they've adjusted to the point that they're all dating, though not seriously. It's likely that they won't want to change back when they've paid their debt. The four girls, who do various jobs around the park as needed (work at the gate, cashier in the restaurants, clean up the trails, etc. are:

Belinda (Bill) - long, straight locks of brunette hair long enough to touch her round, full breasts. She has a narrow waist and well- toned body. She is a computer science major.

Norma (Norman) Greene - short, dark hair cut in a pageboy. Slender arms, but a full, Rubenesque ("Earth mother") figure; good legs and a delicate, "girl-next-door" face. She is an education major, minoring in English, which she wants to teach at the high school level.

Marta (Mark) - a thick wave of auburn hair that hangs across her face and short, wavy bangs on her forehead; large, round breasts capped by large brown nipples; soft, delicate hands with long fingernails. Marta is majoring in business administration.

Holly (Hank) - long, fine, sandy brown hair that hangs down past her shoulders with very little curl. It's parted in the middle and swung back behind her ears. She has a long neck; not too big, perfect, perky breasts; a narrow waist; wide, round hips; and long, slender legs. She has "definitely green" eyes; a small, upturned nose; and full lips. She is studying electronic engineering.

VICKY MARTIN was Vick, a practical joker in high school ("Bikini Beach: Midnight Swim" and "Vicky's Tale"). His best friend, Jim, persuaded him that they should both masquerade as girls and enter the spring pageant. They bought their costumes at SRU and, at midnight, Jim became Tanya, a flighty girl with no memory of her male past. Vick had substituted a brunette wig of his mother's for the blonde one the Wizard supplied. His body and past were changed, but VICKY remembered who she had been.

She hated her new life and fell in with a rough crowd. She got into college based on Vick's grade, but she became a party girl, having casual sex, smoking, and taking drugs. When she realized where she was heading, she managed to turn her life around. She's become a good student, though she switched her major from engineering to history/pre-law.

After the accident in "Midnight Swim", she confessed her past to ANYA. ANYA would like to help her change back, but the SRU spell and the OLD WOMAN'S magic have made this VERY unlikely.

She is very cautious about her relationships with men. She is a friend of the members of NU RHO DELTA having helped them several times. ("Bikini Beach: Nerds - Holiday Queen" and "Bikini Beach: Nerds - Date Rape Avenger") She and Rob are attracted to each other. She likes him to the point that she worries about NOT wanting to change back if ANYA ever figures out how to do that. They've talked her past (and possible male future) at length, and they are starting to date.

VICKY is a perky brunette, with not too large/not too small breasts, a small waist, and a round, feminine ass. She has shapely legs and is about 5-foot 7.

RONNIE HARRIS was Ronald Harris, a lecherous, politically powerful developer, who built a condo across the highway from the park so he could spy on the women in the park from his penthouse ("Bikini Beach: The New Neighbor"). The OLD WOMAN tried everything she could to stop him (gaining a number of new lifetime members in the process), but nothing worked. Seeming to give up, she offered Ron a lifetime membership in return for four units in the condo and discount on memberships for condo residents. Ronnie agreed and was transformed. RONNIE is just as formidable a business woman, but she's now a gracious lady and a great friend of the park and its members, using her influence to protect their privacy, to help the park in the proposed expansion, and on women's issues in general.

RONNIE has shoulder length brown hair, swept behind her ears and curled under at the tips. Precise bangs hang down to just above her eyebrows. She isn't a teen beauty, but is drop dead gorgeous with looks that belie her years (she could be thirty or fifty). Her breasts are average size, but very firm, cones, with no sign of sag, and large, dark nipples. Her narrow waist shows no sign of fat or stretch (no childbirth). She has a soft green eyes; a small, perfect nose, and soft, full lips. She has no visible wrinkles. Her voice is a soft, pleasant alto.

RONNIE sunbathes nude on the balcony of her penthouse and exercises regularly. She dates, sometimes being seen with a young "boy-toy."

CHESTER/CHASTITY MIDDLETON ("DR. CHASTITY") is the park's on-site doctor. The OLD WOMAN could get a sizeable discount on insurance if there was a doctor on site. Dr. Middleton, a very competent physician, applied because he didn't want to be treating "diseases of the rich" or waste all his time going through bureaucratic hoops to get permission to do medicine. His family is wealthy, but he doesn't talk to them much. He was taken aback by the transformation, but decided to give it a try.

He warmed to the changes when he met and fell in love with the lesbian Daphne. He now spends Monday and Tuesday as Daphne's male husband and best friend and the other five days of the week (when the park is busy enough that she might be needed) as her lesbian lover. Changing more often than that could be dangerous. She wears a bright orange (easier to spot) T-shirt with very short sleeves. The T-shirt has the Bikini Beach logo on one shoulder and a red cross in white circle (standard symbol for medical personnel) on the other.

Her credentials are as CHESTER MIDDLETON. Her male persona has privileges at the local hospital closest to the park. This hospital is a major facility that even does organ transplants. ("Bikini Beach: Organlegger")

Daphne's family, which had been very upset about her sexual preference, only know -- and have happily accepted -- her male husband. She's wealthy, also. Her father owns the company that manufactures the pumps and other hydrological equipment that make the park work.

DR. CHESTER is a tall, handsome, man about thirty, with an athletic build. CHASTITY is also tall for a woman, with a supple, athletic body. The OLD WOMAN doesn't "touch" his mind, so both have the exactly the same personality (including sexual interest in women). Daphne is a willowy blonde.

NU RHO DELTA FRATERNITY -- NRD ("The Nerds"), a frat loosely based on the heroes of the REVENGE OF THE NERDS movies. They live in a house that they converted from an old gym and are familiar with the magic of the park and have used it to their advantage on several occasions. The members include:

Brandon - a nerdish type who fits the stereotype to a tee, and Robert's best friend and roommate. Robert and Brandon grew up together. Brandon is a computer genius, but is very awkward around girls.

Robert - Not quite as nerdish as Brandon, but still awkward around others, especially girls. His talents lean more toward the sciences such as Chemistry and Physics.

Bertram Smythe - Robert and Brandon's other roommate. From Britain, Bert is an ardent chess player. He is often rather contemplative, and has a sharp wit.

Arnold - He was late to be recognized as gifted, and as a result, got into trouble in high school because he was bored. Now he uses his talents and sense of mischief to help the gang.

Chuck - A Navy veteran and electronics genius. Chuck spent time as a soundman in submarines, where he honed his electronics skills. He is looked up to as kind of a mentor. Like Arnold, he is prone to pull pranks just for fun, although his pranks tend to be more sophisticated.

Chuck, Rob, Brandon, Bert, and Arnold are the executive committee of the fraternity.

Fred - A sixteen year old early graduate from high school. Very gifted, but socially awkward.

Greg - Anya's boyfriend, and long-time friend from 'back home' ("Bikini Beach: Anya and Me"). He's studying entertainment architecture at the U, and did a project for the old woman for an expansion of the park. He helped the nerds with a fund-raiser pin-up calendar of their members (transformed into supermodels by the park), and they accepted him into the frat.

Paul -- a member of the fraternity changed into Melanie Keilani Lewis, a slender and athletic looking, half-Polynesian girl with dark wavy hair framing her face, so the frat could enter a contestant in the Winter Festival Pageant. She won and had to stay female for the rest of the school year. Melanie was "seduced" by her new popularity and shunned the frat, hanging out with the snobbish members of the Gamma sorority. She recanted and is now Vicky's roommate.

Dean Howard Livingstone - A long-time educational bureaucrat, the dean actively supports fraternities, with the exception of the nerds. His reasons are unknown. He is an honorary member of the Alpha Sigma Sigma fraternity (an "in" frat known for partying), and is their faculty advisor.

Bikini Beach is a large-fenced in water park not far from the actual beach. The fence is almost 20 feet high to discourage both voyeurs and gate crashers.

The park is across the highway from a large, upscale, high rise condominium owned by RONNIE HARRIS. Only women can own units in the condo. The OLD WOMAN, ANYA, ELIZABETH, and JENNY live in three of them. RONNIE HARRIS lives in the penthouse. She sometimes sunbathes there in the nude.

The park is rectangular. The entrance is at the southeastern corner. There's a large parking lot against the southern and eastern sides. The park is divided into four play areas for all ages. A park expansion is under construction, which will result in the park being L-shaped, with new themed areas of "The Ancient World" and "Jungle Adventure". Greg had a major role in the new design work.

(The descriptions below are mainly from the Old Woman's First Advertising Brochure.)

South Seas Adventures

A tropical paradise for the whole family, with something for everyone from swimming to surf, from rafting to body slides. Age and height restrictions are posted on all rides.

_he Lagoon: a 35,000 square foot swimming pool surrounded by white, sandy beaches and tropical foliage. Polynesian Tiki statues hide water cannons and fountains, while two body slides wind through the palm trees and splash into the pool.

Tropical Waves: a 20,000 square foot wave pool, featuring 5-foot waves breaking every few seconds towards the sandy beach. From the deep end for advanced swimmers to the 1-2 foot depth for children and beginners, the waves are fun for all.

Pele's Race: 6 slides race in parallel down the volcano summit in a near-vertical plunge, then glide to a refreshing, watery finish. Tame enough for kids, but fun for all ages.

Lava Run: Race down the lava run slalom course, riding fast mats, from the volcano rim to a watery splashdown. Twist and turn as you race down this adventurous course.

The Pipeline: Drop nearly four stories from the volcano summit in a near-vertical plunge, then glide to a refreshing, watery top. Not for the faint of heart. (Bikinis are not recommended for the modest.)

Wild Luau Raft Ride: Groups of 4 ride a raft down this wild, twisting and turning slide down the side of the volcano. Nearly 60 feet high, the ride's 950 feet of watery excitement are fun for the adventurous, yet tame for the family.

Polynesian Plunge Tube Ride: Ride a tube raft through a twisting whitewater slalom course, winding through the Tiki statues, catapulting over waterfalls, and gliding gently to a floating stop in a picturesque island lagoon.

Outrigger Canoe Tube Ride: Ride two in tandem on a tube raft down a mild course, with dips and twists to thrill all swimmers, yet gentle enough for the kids.

Tahiti Twister: Starting nearly fifty feet high, twin corkscrew tubes carry the adventurous through a twisting ride, speeding and splashing in near total darkness to a final drop into a watery lagoon.

Recreation: Play volleyball in the shallow pool or play on the sparkling white sand. Enjoy a relaxing lunch in a grass hut, or eat dinner under the Tiki torches amid the coconut trees. Kick up your feet in a comfy hammock and relax to the sound of the waters.

Wild River Fun

A wilderness river adventure-land, with swimming, raft rides, and steep slides. Age and height limits are posted for all rides.

The Old Swimming Hole: A 35,000 square foot pool area, with sandy river banks for sun bathing. A rope swing straight out of Tom Sawyer, and three slides to give plenty of action for the young-at- heart. A hot tub nearby for the older and weary in its bubbling warmth.

Ole Man River: Nearly a half-mile in length, this gentle river ride winds around the Wild River area for a relaxing inner-tube ride. Numerous stops allow entering and exiting the river near favorite rides.

White Water Family Raft: Starting almost 60 feet above the river, the white water rapids raft carries up to four as it banks, twists, and turns down to the placid beaver dam below. Younger riders must be accompanied by an adult.

Spillway Slide: Slide freely down the wide and slippery slideway, gliding through the dips and bumps, to a big splash in the cool water below.

Dambuster Raft Ride: Ride the raging torrent as a damburst of water carries the raft down the twisting, winding stream. Not recommended for the faint of heart.

Mountain Runoff Raft Ride: The stream is flowing fast as it carries the two-person raft down its winding, twisting path. Fun for the adventurous, yet tame enough for the greenhorn.

Otter's Run Body Slide: Feel the rush of air around your body as you drop nearly 50 feet and hurdle over the twin humps. The sensation of plunging in freefall is a thrill only for the most adventurous. (Bikinis not recommended for the modest.)

Gold Rush Slide: Ride the chute down from the gold mine, twisting and winding down the mountain slope to the stream below. A challenging ride not recommended for the inexperienced.

Recreation: A water volleyball pool tempts all to a friendly game. Dine on the docks of the river landing or catch some sun on the fishing pier. Or just kick back and relax in the shade of the many verandas, each with a special view of the water activities.

Kiddy Play Land

For the non-swimming tots. Activities for toddlers to six years, with parental supervision only. A sign on the path to this area says, "Kiddy Playland is for Non-Swimmers and Beginners. All Children Must Have Adult Supervision." [Note: this section has the only two magical rides in the entire park.]

Frog Prince Splash Pool: A wading pool for the youngsters with whimsical frog statues spraying unpredictably.

Glass Slipper Slide: A gentle water slide for the little ones.

Magic Carpet Slide: A slightly more challenging slide for the older kids, with bumps and dips for added thrills.

Fairy Godmother Tube Slide: A gentle slalom ride waving among magic wand fountains, which spray the riders with a special kind of magical fun.

[Note: Here's my description of this ride from "Bikini Beach: The Children's Hour", a part of "Octet."] "It was a long ride that dipped and waved between a multi-colored columns that squirted water as each tube passed. A stream from one hit Meghan. In an instant she changed into a zebra girl with dark brown stripes, her hair became a blonde mane.

"You look silly," Bree shouted from the tube behind her. Then the water hit her. She became a Dalmatian puppy-girl, all white fur and a scattering of black spots. She looked down at herself and giggled.

The effect lasted the thirty seconds or so it took until they hit the water. Both girls were human again when they came up for air."]

Carriage Ride Tube Slide: A magical ride on a tube raft down a gently twisting, bumping course.

[Note: There may be real magic in this ride, but the fact has never been established. My notion, as I write this guide, is that there's a magical warp to this ride. As it starts, the child turns into an adult, and the ride becomes a exciting, long, twisting plunge. A teen or adult taking the ride becomes a six-year old on the short, gentle slope described in the brochure. The rider changes back to her normal age as she slides out the bottom into the water.]

Fairy Tale Splash Pool: A large water playground and fairy tale castle, with water cannons to spray those nasty witches, drawbridge slides down to the moats, floating alligators, and spraying fountains.

Junior Lifeguard Academy

For the intermediate swimmers, this area provides some adult-free dun and challenges. Ages 6-12 only. LIZ NELSON, the chief lifeguard, hold swimming classes here at noon on Saturdays during the school and weekdays during the summer.

Safety Scramble: Balance on the tortoises, using the overhead safety net, and try to cross the pond of peril.

Splashdown Slide: The escape slide glides down the included cable, leaving the riders dangling from the handles, twisting and bobbling wildly until the final, refreshing splash in the water below.

Waterfall Plunge: Twin slides plunge straight down a hill, ending in a catapult launch in the pool below.

Mountain Climb: Climb the face of the mountain, a thirty-foot climbing wall -- if you can -- and avoid plunging into the water below. Those reaching the top get a ring that's redeemable for a dish of ice cream at the Tiki Hut or the River Landing restaurant.

Olympic Training Pool: [This is mine.] All the rides described above end in an Olympic-sized pool with room for just swimming and one end deep enough to practice diving from the 1-meter and 3-meter boards.

Services

Food Services: are located at the Tiki Hut Restaurant (South Seas Adventure area), the River Landing Restaurant (Wild River Fun area), which feature full menus (including salads and vegetarian burgers). Sweet potato fries, as well as those from regular potatoes are served. The same food is sold at both restaurants. Some food is also available at the main concession stand near the entrance.

Beverages: are available at all three food sites. Souvenir cups with unlimited refills at any site in the park can also be bought at all three sites.

Lockers and Changing Rooms: are located by the entrance and described in detail above. Free towels are found in boxes similar to sidewalk newspaper boxes (to keep them dry) are located strategically throughout the park. Damp or soiled towels can be deposited in the clearly marked nearby bins.

Merchandise and Souvenirs: The main concession stand also sells sunscreen, beach hats, park souvenirs (hats, T-shirts, and towels with the park logo), etc. One use cameras and film are sold, but only close-up shots of the person or group buying these will develop properly.

Assistance: Lifeguards and other staff will gladly assist with misplaced children or other personal items.

This is a first attempt at a chronology of canon Bikini Beach stories. There have been many requests to know what's the proper order; hopefully, this will answer some questions. There are few that are out of order; for example, Ellie Dauber's "Swim Date" and "Teaching Sally" overlap in time, even though Teaching Sally was published much later. My "Cousin Trouble" and "Dear Jenny" were published out of order, as well. Note that not all of these stories are on Big Closet; I'll get to them eventually.

Notes: First, the "original pub date" is when it was published on the other site.
Second, the column that says "Key Stories" are those stories which are key to certain events and form the canon framework around which many other stories revolve.
Third, the next column "stories with required sequence" ARE order-dependent, and they should be read in proper order, as there is some interplay among the stories. (I didn't put in the 'dependent' column, though."
Fourth, the "no sequence required" stories could happen at any time in the BB timeline.
Hope this is helpful.

Note - I will get this updated as I continue to add to the list of 'canon' stories and add more to the universe. Also please note that I am reviewing ALL existing Bikini Beach stories to check for being 'canon' or not. The starting assumption is that Ellie's and my works are canon, and as I check other stories, I will add them to the list.
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On a hot summer day, two guys want to go to the beach, but the beaches are full. They get a tip to try a private beach, where there are supposed to be lots of bikini-clad girls. There are — but not quite what the boys expect. (The SRU Wizard has a cameo, but this is not an SRU story…)

Note: This is the ORIGINAL Bikini Beach story. I have done some minor editing, and added a bit to the penultimate scene to clarify and soften things a bit. Since this was the beginning, there are many elements of the story universe which would later be polished, refined, and changed as I wrote more stories and matured as a writer. Please don't judge the nit-picky details that were later altered in the universe. Every universe has to start somewhere.

Warning: the story contains sexual assault, so it is not for the squeamish.

The Bikini Beach story universe and characters therein are copyright by the author, all rights reserved. Use of the characters or story universe without permission of the owner is a violation of copyright law.

**********

"Not again!" Matt Langley moaned as he pulled his convertible up near the beach. Around him was a sea of cars, with no parking spaces to be seen.

Jeff Reynolds frowned, then stood up on the passenger seat, lightly holding the windshield frame for support. "Nothing, man."

Matt hit the steering wheel in frustration. "Dammit!" He waited for Jeff to plop back into his seat. "I told you we should have come sooner."

Jeff glared at Matt. "I couldn't help it, man! I had to watch my little sister." Jeff had only his mom at home to care for himself and his ten-year-old sister, and she'd had to run errands this morning. His mom had run late, thus delaying Jeff. And of course, Jeff and his mom had fought about the whole thing, like they did so often. It was far later than they hoped when Matt and Jeff finally left for the beach. So far, of the six beaches they'd tried, all were packed, and the parking areas were overflowing.

Matt looked down, feeling a little sheepish. Of course he knew that it wasn't Jeff's fault. He knew how things were between Jeff and his mom — tense was an understatement. Matt had the idea that Jeff could do no right in his mom's eyes. It was almost as if each blamed the other for his dad's loss. He tried to change the subject quickly. "So where to now? Do we try to park somewhere and walk two miles to the beach?" He sounded only slightly less than totally sarcastic.

Jeff shook his head. "I don't know. We can, if you want." He looked a bit morose. "But I didn't see any babes here, either. Looked like mostly families and stuff."

Matt suppressed a shudder at the thought of older ladies and mothers romping and sunning in bathing suits and bikinis. "So where are all the babes?" he asked as he slammed the car into gear and screeched out onto the road.

Jeff frowned. "I don't know. On a nice day like today, they should be swarming."

Matt drove silently for a few minutes, cursing his luck. First, they were late. Now they couldn't find any babes. This was not the fun Saturday he'd imagined.

"Hey Matt," Jeff's features suddenly lightened, "where do the babes hang out when they're not at the beach?"

Matt glanced at his friend, then his eyes widened and a grin broke on his face. "At the mall." He downshifted, tapped the brakes, glanced in his mirror, and spun the car around with a screech of rubber.

**********

Jeff frowned again. They'd run down another blind alley. No girls at the mall, either. "Where are they?" he asked rhetorically, feeling the frustration of his twenty-year-old hormones.

Matt wasn't any less frustrated. "I don't get it. Either the mall or the beaches should be full of girls. But there aren't any."

"Ahem."

Jeff and Matt spun, startled. Then they did a double-take. There was an old man, wearing a dark bathrobe, standing in a weathered storefront — complete with a door! Matt glanced at Jeff, puzzled. "I thought that was…"

Jeff glanced at Matt, then back at the store. He, too, could have sworn that it was a Radio Shack just a minute ago.

"You were wondering where the girls were, right Jeff and Matt?" the old man asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth at the confusion he'd caused these two.

Jeff started to speak, then his brow furrowed. "How do you know our names?"

The man sighed heavily. "Always the same question," he muttered as he rolled his eyes heavenward. He answered by pointing at the sign over his door — 'Spells R Us'. "I'm a magician, of course."

Matt glanced at Jeff and raised his eyebrows. This one was a real character, he decided. "Okay, old man. How about you conjure up a beach full of babes for us?"

The old man smiled. "You're more right than you know, Matt." He stepped through the door into his shop, knowing that Matt and Jeff were too curious not to follow him. He stepped behind the counter.

Jeff glanced at Matt, then followed the old man. He glanced around, wondering how anyone could possibly stay in business with the assorted junk this man had. A couple of racks of costumes here, a display of jewelry there. A few videos in a dusty shelf. Statuettes and figurines. Stuff. Old stuff, Jeff thought.

The man smiled. "I sell lots of this 'stuff', Jeff. It's all very, um, special." He gestured around his shop. "Now what you wanted to know is where are all the girls, right? You did hear about the new private beach club, didn't you?"

Jeff's eyebrows raised; he glanced sideways at Matt. "New beach club?"

The old man smiled. "Well, it's really a water park, but they call it Bikini Beach." He watched Matt's and Jeff's eyes light up.

"That sounds like the place we want to go," Matt said eagerly.

The old man shrugged. "Ninety acres of beach and pools and a water slides. I understand it caters mostly to the younger crowd, such as yourselves."

"Sounds like just the thing. Where is it?" Matt was getting excited about this prospect.

The old man dug behind his counter, then pulled out a couple of fliers and handed them to the boys. "It is a private club, though."

Jeff frowned. "So how can we get in?"

The old man smiled again. "It just so happens that the owner is a friend of mine. She gave me a few guest passes." His hand ducked back behind the counter, and reappeared with two passes.

Matt was grinning again. "Uh, how much?"

The old man shook his head. "Complements of my friend." Had either boy's thoughts been less dominated by hormones, they would have found the old man's puzzling smile perhaps a bit ominous.

**********

Apart from the large parking lot, there was little to see of the park - except for the high privacy fence. Matt and Jeff were lucky to find a parking spot near the entrance, and they clambered from the car and strutted toward the gate.

"Hey, Jeff," Matt hissed to his friend. "Check out the line. I don't see any other guys."

Jeff didn't hear him. He was too distracted looking toward the gate. Indeed, in the entrance line, there were no other guys — just a lot of very attractive and well-endowed young ladies. The line was moving very quickly, as well, so within moments they were at the gate.

"This is a private club," a stern-looking matron said to Matt and Jeff.

"Yeah, well we have guest passes," Matt said smugly to the old bat. He handed their tickets to paradise to the woman.

The old woman glanced at the passes, and then pointed, all without changing her dour expression. "The changing rooms are over there. And shower before you use the facilities."

**********

With a macho strut, Matt walked across the beach. "Man, this place is everything the old man said it was," he muttered to himself. There were bikini-clad girls everywhere. Matt smiled at a trio of young lovelies sitting on lounges, and was surprised when they giggled at him. This wasn't supposed to happen — he was a rather good-looking guy, and this place was full of nothing but girls.

Matt tried to shrug off the girls, but found he couldn't. The giggling was still bothering him as he stretched out on a chaise lounge and waited for Jeff to join him. Girls didn't giggle at him - ever. He'd always been a rather good-looking guy, and had no problems impressing the babes, until today, that is. Maybe that was why the girls laughing at him bothered him so much. Matt leaned back, adjusted his sunglasses, and tried to soak up some rays as he waited for Jeff.

As he waited, Matt thought about his best friend. Jeff was a really great guy, but he really lacked in self-confidence. He was a bit taller and lankier than Matt, and while he didn't look like a geek, he was much more bookish than Matt, and Jeff was incredibly awkward around girls.

Matt caught a glance of Jeff walking across the beach, looking for him. He started to lift his arm to get Jeff's attention, but decided against it — after all, they were the only guys on the beach. Jeff would have no trouble finding him. Strangely, though, Jeff didn't seem to have spotted Matt, but was wandering around as if he were searching. Matt was confused — finding one guy in this sea of girls should be trivial.

Matt did a double take. Something wasn't quite right. Jeff was walking past the three girls who had giggled at him, and, just as they had with Matt, they were giggling. Something about Jeff was . . . different. It seemed impossible, but Matt wondered if Jeff's hair were longer. The longer Matt stared, the more he realized that Jeff's hair was indeed longer. Where it usually only brushed his ears, Jeff's hair was dangling to nearly his shoulders. And he had … bangs? Matt's hand lifted and pulled his sunglasses down his nose, as if the glasses might be distorting what he saw.

But no, it was true. Jeff's hair was longer. There was no mistaking it. Matt blinked hard, to clear the illusion, but it persisted. Then Matt started to see the other changes. Jeff's arms were more slender. While Jeff was less athletic than Matt, he was still reasonably well built. But now? Matt closed his eyes again, wondering what was going on. If he'd had anything to drink, he'd have been sure he was hallucinating. But when his eyes opened again, Matt still saw the changes in Jeff. Longer hair. Slender, less muscular arms and legs. A little less heavy and muscular in his abdomen.

And then Matt practically choked. On Jeff's chest were two very feminine nipples. At least an inch across, they were much darker and larger than a man's nipples. As Matt stared in disbelief, he thought he saw the nipples swelling, pushing outward into tiny cones. Time seemed to stop for Matt as he watched his friend; the tiny cones pushed out more with each step Jeff took, swelling into tiny conical breasts capped with very feminine nipples.

Matt's eyes slowly tore free of Jeff's expanding chest. Jeff's arms and legs were definitely more slender, and either his hips were widening, or his waist was getting more narrow. Matt's mind suddenly comprehended that it was both. In slow motion, Jeff's Speedo seemed to flow, changing shape as it narrowed in the crotch, while at the same time, the sides lifted upward, toward Jeff's waist, into a woman's bikini bottom.

Matt sat up slowly, horrified as he watched his best friend continue the slow but definitive change into a more feminine form. He thought for a moment that he'd felt something funny on his own chest, but he was too distracted watching Jeff. While the face was still recognizably Jeff, it appeared softer and more feminine, like Jeff would have looked had he been a girl. On his chest, Jeff now sported small conical breasts — there was no other word for them — capped by large dark nipples. They were still slowly swelling, now starting to bob as Jeff continued to walk unaware toward him. The swim suit was now definitely a woman's bikini, and even more shockingly, it was much less full than it had been just seconds before. But the changes weren't what startled Matt most. First, Jeff seemed unaware of the changes which were taking place. And second, Jeff was clearly looking for him, but seemed not to notice him in the chair.

"Jeff!" Matt called, and gasped at the sound which had come from his own throat. It wasn't the deep masculine sound he was used to, but rather a much softer, higher-pitched voice.

Jeff gazed over the sea of girls, eventually setting his sight on Matt. For a brief moment, he appeared confused, then his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed to slits as he stared intently at Matt. After what seemed an eternity, Jeff's eyes widened in shock, as if he'd seen something totally unexpected. "Matt?" he asked, sounding very unsure of himself. At the same time, he flinched as his own voice, soft and melodious, echoed in his ears.

Matt stood as Jeff neared, and felt himself sway. On his chest, he felt weights tugging and swaying, while his center of balance seemed wrong. He glanced down, and a tiny cry of shock and despair escaped his lips as he spied the large and very shapely breasts on his own chest. His hands shot up to the impossibly round boobs, cupping them as if to prove that they were an illusion. But the feeling of his own hands cupping his own flesh was all too real, laying waste to the thought that this might be a dream. He felt their weight, the firmness of female flesh in his hands, the undeniable and oft-experienced feeling of cupping boobs. At the same time, he felt hands against his chest, cupping his own flesh, altering slightly the weight dangling from his chest, squeezing softly against the skin. Matt gasped again as he saw his hands — now tiny and delicate and oh-so-feminine, with long painted fingernails — cupping his breasts. He looked up again at Jeff, and he felt hair brushing against the nape of his neck. His mouth moved as if to say something, but words seemed impossible in this very strange situation.

"What's happened to you?" both boys asked at once, still amazed at the sound of their own voices in their ears.

"You're a …" Jeff tried to say, still incredulous, "a girl!"

Matt's mouth flapped a few more times. "So are you! What the hell is happening to us?"

Jeff shook his head, now painfully aware of the long wavy blond tresses brushing his shoulders. "The shower," he finally said with dread certainty.

"Magic?" Matt asked, still trying to adjust to his new voice. "That was the weirdest shower I've ever taken."

Jeff nodded, suddenly realizing the truth. "That old man said he was a wizard. And the owner of this place was a friend. So the friend uses magic, too?"

Matt nodded, ignoring the bangs dancing around his eyebrows. "And the shower is magic." He glanced down again, and saw that Jeff's bosom was even larger than it had been — now very respectable and full, and his crotch was flat. Matt shuddered as he realized what was in Jeff's bikini bottom. He glanced down — between his own ample boobs, and saw that he, too, was now clad in a bikini bottom. A few seconds ago, he'd thought that Jeff's bottom was daring. Now, he didn't. The bikini gracing his rounded, very feminine hips was but a thong — and Matt suddenly felt very exposed. And, just like Jeff, Matt's crotch was flat and devoid of his manhood.

"Girls!" Matt and Jeff spun at the sound of the harsh voice. They instantly recognized the matronly woman from the entrance. "There is NO topless sunbathing here!"

Jeff started to say something, but he glanced down and saw his large exposed breasts. He glanced back up, his eyes pleading. "But we aren't…"

The woman stared coldly at them, her eyes filled with recognition — and something else. Knowledge. She knew exactly what had happened to these two boys. "Come with me," she ordered.

Helpless, not knowing how or why they'd been transformed, Matt and Jeff followed the woman. They both realized that there was nothing else they could do. And as they passed the three girls, Matt and Jeff both flushed as they heard the girls giggling at them again.

**********

"But we're not really girls," Jeff protested weakly. They were seated in an office — the office of the woman across from them, who was obviously the owner of the park.

"I do NOT allow indecent exposure on my property," the woman rebuked. She waved her hand, and to Matt and Jeff's shock, bikini bras — matching their bottoms — appeared on them. "There. That's better." Jeff and Matt stared in shock at the tops they were suddenly wearing — the bikinis left very little to the imagination, so barely did they conceal the boys' newfound feminine charms.

"But we're boys," Matt complained.

"Boys do _not_ wear bikinis." The older woman had a point.

"Why did you do this to us?" Jeff suddenly demanded, trying in vain to sound brave and strong. In his new body, with the quavering voice, he failed at the attempt.

"You were told that this is a private park, correct?" Jeff glanced at Matt, then they both nodded. "Did you read the disclosure on your pass?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Of course you didn't. You were both too anxious to get to a beach full of beautiful girls, so you could stare at them, lust over them, and try to talk some girl into an evening of 'fun', isn't that right?"

Jeff gulped. "Yes," he answered meekly.

The old woman scowled. "Are you young people all so discourteous of your elders?"

"Yes, maam," Jeff corrected himself.

The older woman sat back heavily in her chair. "That's better." She leaned forward and shoved the guest passes at the former boys.

Jeff and Matt meekly took the passes, then turned the cardstock over and began to read. Matt finished first, and he looked up, a frightened look on his features. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"That you'd be stuck as girls for the rest of the day?" The older woman shook her head sadly. "If you aren't smart enough to read the warnings, you deserve what you get."

"But why?" Jeff asked, feeling like he was going to cry. He figured it was an effect of this female body — he wouldn't cry, would he?

The woman sighed. "Didn't you think why I called this place 'Bikini Beach'? Of course you didn't. You hoped it would be full of scantily-clad girls to stare at. You didn't consider, for even a second, that maybe this is a private club for girls only so they could spend some fun time without feeling like they were on display!" The woman's tone was much sterner, now, and Jeff and Matt shrunk in their chairs. "Well, now you can spend time among the bikini wearers without disrupting my retreat." She leaned forward and began to shuffle through some papers. "Now if you don't mind, I have work to do."

Matt and Jeff stood slowly, still getting used to their new female bodies, and meekly started toward the door. Then Jeff turned. "But we can't leave…"

The older woman looked up. "You can't leave like this? Of course you can. Until midnight, you are girls, and no-one will think otherwise."

"Midnight?" Jeff wailed. "We're stuck like this until midnight?" He felt a sudden dread of having to leave the park and interact with others while he was still a girl.

**********

Matt and Jeff trudged slowly across the sand, crestfallen. "Man," Jeff complained, "look what you got us into."

"Me?" Matt shot back. "I didn't hear any objections from you." He reached up and tugged on his bikini strap, then sighed in frustration. "This thing is digging into my neck."

"Only because your boobs are too big," Jeff tried to joke. He was answered by a truly malevolent glare from his friend.

But it was true — Matt's figure was very well endowed — probably a C-cup, or larger. Coupled with his slender waist and round hips and butt and long sexy legs, Matt was a very shapely girl. And his face was cute! His tough jawline was softened, and his cheeks raised. His lips were fuller and more sensuous. Gone was the rough broken nose — replaced with a smaller, slightly upturned dainty one. His hair was longer, but not so long as Jeff's, with bangs sweeping above his eyebrows and around his ears. While his eyes were the same color, they seemed bigger, rounder, and more innocent than his male features.

Jeff whistled under his breath. Matt was a damned attractive young lady. And even though he now wore the body of a girl, Jeff's mind was still male, and was suddenly thinking of how sexy Matt looked. Jeff felt a warm tingly feeling, and glanced down to see his nipples protruding prominently. He also felt a strange but warm feeling in his crotch, and realized to his horror that he was getting horny thinking about how lovely a girl his best friend was. He couldn't completely suppress the shudder.

As they neared the chairs where they'd left their towels, they passed by the table of girls yet again. "Hi, boys," one of the girls, a sexy auburn-haired girl called out teasingly.

Jeff cringed, and he saw Matt clench his jaw angrily. "I suppose you think this is funny?" Matt demanded of the trio as he stomped over to their table.

The auburn-haired girl blushed, ashamed of what she'd just done. But another of the girls looked up defiantly. "Yes."

"Oh, knock it off, Anne," the third girl said. "We've had our fun."

Anne glared at her companion, but then her features softened. She looked back up at Matt and Jeff. "I'm sorry. It's just, well, kind of funny to watch guys change."

The first girl looked up at the guys. "Pull up a chair." she invited. "I'm Tonya."

Matt glanced at Jeff, then back at the girls. "Come on," they all chimed. "We won't bite."

Matt shrugged and grabbed a chair, then sat down heavily, still uncomfortable with how this body jiggled and swayed. "I'm Matt."

"I'm Jeff," Jeff added as he, too, sat down.

Tonya snickered. "You don't look like any Matt or Jeff I've ever known." Matt frowned instantly, and Tonya saw it. "I'm sorry, but it's kind of hard to resist."

"How about if we call you Molly?" Anne asked quickly. Before Matt could react, Anne nodded her head as if the issue was settled. "Molly it is, then."

The third girl perked up. "And we can call you Jeri," she said to Jeff. She turned to Tonya. "She does sort of look like Jeri Ryan, doesn't she?"

Matt's defiance about his change crumbled. If he were going to be stuck as a girl, he might as well try to enjoy it, especially since there was nothing he could to about it. And these girls seemed very friendly. Maybe they could have some fun after all. "Except Seven of Nine isn't quite as — um — top heavy."

The girls laughed at that, but Jeff blushed, glancing down at the magnificent orbs on his — her — chest.

"By the way," the third girl added, "I'm Jennifer. But I go by Jenn."

**********

As the afternoon wore on, Jeri was starting to admit that she was having fun. And, much to her shock, she realized that she was even starting to think of herself as a 'she'. This was the best water park Jeri — or Jeff — had ever seen. The inner-tube slides were fabulous, and it had some of the steepest water slides she'd ever been on. To the girls' delight, and to her shock, she'd actually screamed like a girl as she went down one of them, and she'd been embarrassed when her top came off, leaving her large breasts flopping around freely.

They'd sunned on the beach for a long time, talking about all kinds of things. The three girls, for their part, were very interested in some of the 'guy' things that Jeri and Molly knew. And they acted just like Jeri and Molly had been girls forever. Then the subject turned to boys — and sex. Molly and Jeri were shocked at some of the things the girls were saying. Anne smiled at their embarrassment. "Come on, now," she chided. "You don't think guys have a monopoly on talking about sex, do you?"

Jeri glanced at Anne. "I really hadn't thought about it," she finally answered.

Tonya leaned closer. "Have you thought about having someone suck on those big nipples of yours?" she asked softly. "Or what it's like to have an orgasm with your new equipment?"

Jeri blushed. She'd been unable to not think about how sexy Molly was — she was still a guy in her mind, after all. And when she took a break to the restroom, she'd been too curious — and too horny — not to experiment. She already did know about having a woman's orgasm. Orgasms, she corrected herself.

Jenn grinned slyly as she saw Jeri blush. "How about having your legs wrapped around someone's waist as he pumps his big thick cock inside your hot, wet, horny pussy?"

Anne laughed as Jeri and Molly recoiled, shocked at their talk. "I tell you what," she said matter-of-factly, "if I got changed, I'd sure be curious about sticking my dick into something hot and wet!"

Jeri had had enough. "It's almost closing time. I think we need to head home."

"But… We're…." Molly protested, suddenly thinking about being in this body outside the park.

"She said no-one would know anything," Jeri reminded Molly.

Molly stared at Jeri, and then sighed. "I guess we can't stay here all night," she finally agreed.

Anne's eyes brightened as she got an idea. "How about if you girls come out with us tonight?" Tonya and Jenn immediately joined in the chorus.

"But…"

Anne smiled. "Come on. We'll go to the Coconut Club. They've always got a great band there! It'll be lots of fun!"

"But…"

Tonya smiled. "And we promise to have you home by midnight," she said mischievously. "Or maybe we'll wait to see what you look like as guys."

Finally, Jeri gave in. "I guess we can go." She glanced at Molly, who grudgingly nodded.

Jeri and Molly walked slowly back to the locker room. "This has been one weird day," Molly finally said.

Jeri chuckled. "You said it," she agreed. Inside the locker room, she hesitantly opened her locker, wondering what was inside. "Hey, look!" she said as she pulled out a lacy bra and matching panties. "Our clothes changed, too!" She pulled out more — a short skirt, a low-cut blouse, and a pair of high heels. She held out the heels like they were snakes. "How am I supposed to walk in these things?"

Molly laughed. "Same as me," she answered as she held out her own heels.

Jeri started to undress, and found herself watching as Molly stripped. Freed of their restraining bikini, Molly's boobs swayed freely as Molly bent forward to pull off her bottoms, dangling tantalizingly. Jeri felt herself getting wet again, knowing that she wanted to touch Molly's boobs, to caress them, and to have Molly touch her. As Molly straightened, Jeri slipped up behind her, and slid her hands around Molly's waist, up onto Molly's generous bosom. Molly started as she felt Jeri's hands cupping her boobs, but the surprise was almost instantly replaced with a soft moan of pleasure as she felt an incredibly erotic tingling from Jeri's touch on her nipples. Molly's head tilted to one side as she felt Jeri's lips on her neck, nibbling and kissing with an insistent playfulness. She felt Jeri's boobs pressed firmly against her back, Jeri's body firmly and slowly rubbing against Molly's rounded tush.

Molly felt a peculiar warmth within her groin, a sensation both familiar and alien, and a growing wetness. She knew, even though she wanted to deny it, that she was getting horny, albeit in a womanly way. "We can't…" she protested weakly. "We're guys…"

"No we aren't," Jeri said in a lust-filled and husky voice. She continued her ministrations of Molly's breasts with one hand, and let the other slip down Molly's waist, toward her increasingly moist crotch.

"No," Molly tried to protest, her hand weakly blocking Jeri's hand. But she let it pass, following it down into her crotch, using her own hand to press Jeri's hand more firmly into her womanhood. A tremble coursed through her body, accompanied by a moan of pure pleasure, as Jeri found her sensitive nub, touching her ultra-sensitive clit. Molly's mind was full of conflicting thoughts — overwhelming pleasure in her new equipment, fears that she was really a guy, fears that this was really gay, wonder at what the eventual orgasm would be like, and, to her astonishment, a growing lust for Jeri. Molly's hand slowly crept behind her until it touched Jeri's hips. Her hand slid around Jeri's bottom, pressing its way between her bottom and Jeri's crotch, sliding insistently down toward Jeri's vital spot. She felt Jeri pressing more insistently against her hand, against the fingers probing into her wet womanhood, even as the first orgasm overtook Molly.

Unseen to the two former boys, three pairs of eyes peered through a crack in the door, watching with amusement as the pair lustily explored each other's newfound femininity.

**********

Still feeling the aftereffects of their lesbian lovemaking, Jeri smiled at Molly as she closed the car door. "See you after dinner when the girls pick us up?"

Molly nodded. "About seven." She reached, out of habit, for the gearshift, then frowned. The car was no longer the dark Camaro convertible Matt had driven; instead, it was a red Volkswagen Cabrio convertible, with a different layout of controls. A 'cute' car, Molly had complained, like girls drove. No raw power under the hood. Just a 'cute' little girl's car. Jeri almost laughed out loud as Molly tried to squeal the tires, just like Matt had always done. In this car, however, it didn't work; the results were comical.

Hesitantly, Jeri opened the front door and peered inside. Despite the assurances of the old woman, Jeri didn't know quite what to expect. Everything looked normal in the house, so she slid through the opening. Was she going to get the usual fight from her mom? Jeri felt uneasy.

"Is that you, honey?" Jeri's mom called out from the kitchen. "Did you and Molly have fun today?"

Jeri gasped. The girls had given her the name 'Jeri', so how did her mom know? Was the entire park enchanted? "Sure did, mom," Jeri answered nervously, still half expecting something to go wrong.

"That's nice. It's so nice to have a place where you and Molly can go without having, well, you know…" Her mom peeked out of the kitchen. "You know. I worry about you. I mean, you are a pretty girl, and boys can be so…"

Jeri frowned and stamped her foot. "Mom!" She was flustered and confused. No arguments. Only concern — and comments about her looks. Mother-daughter stuff, Jeri guessed.

Jeri's mom stepped over and kissed Jeri on the forehead. "I know. You hate it when I worry about you." She smiled. "I can't help it, though. I still think of you as my little girl." Then she glanced up and down Jeri's figure. "Even if you aren't such a little girl anymore," she added with a chuckle.

Jeri forced a smile. "I've got to get changed. Molly and I are going out with some girls we met at the park." She started up the stairs, but she paused momentarily. "And I appreciate your concern, mom."

Jeri's mom smiled. "You know, maybe I should get that season pass we were talking about. If it is such a nice park…"

Jeri paled. If a one-day guest pass did this to her, what would a season pass do? She started to bounce up the stairs, but when she felt her boobs flopping, barely restrained by her bra, she decided that the 'Jeff' style of walking wasn't quite appropriate.

At the top of the stairs, Jeri started toward what should be her room — if things were really mostly unchanged. Then she decided to peek in Tracy's room. She saw Tracy sitting on the floor, playing with dolls. Barbie dolls? Jeri frowned. Since when had Tracy had Barbie dolls? They just didn't have much money for those things. Not since…. Jeri didn't want to finish the thought.

Tracy looked up, then her eyes widened. "Hi, Jeri," she said, her voice sounding guilty.

"Hi, squirt," Jeri said automatically, the way Jeff would have. "Have fun today?"

Tracy gulped. "Aren't you mad that I'm playing with your Barbie dolls?"

Jeri reeled. Her Barbie dolls? Just how far did these changes go? Then she smiled. "As long as you're careful…" she said.

Tracy's face flooded with relief. "I know I should have asked, but you went to the park, and I wanted to play, and …"

Jeri stepped fully into Tracy's room. "It's okay," she reassured to stop Tracy's babbling. "Just be careful," she admonished, trying to sound stern, but failing miserably. Jeri had no idea how to get her emotions across with this strange body and strange voice.

Tracy jumped up and gave Jeri a big hug, her eyes brimming with happiness. "You're the best sister," she beamed.

Jeri pried herself free of her little sister. "I've got to get cleaned up. Molly and I are going out tonight. We met some girls at the park, and they invited us to go with them."

Tracy smiled. "Next time, will you take me to the park? Please?"

Jeri shuddered inwardly — again! All these suggestions about going to the park again — as if Jeff would EVER visit that accursed place, after the changes it had already wrought to his life. "We'll see," Jeri said, forcing a smile. She slid out of Tracy's room and walked down the hall to her own room.

Jeri leaned against the door as it closed, sighing heavily with her eyes closed as if she had just entered a private refuge. But when she opened her eyes, she was stunned by the room. It was so — feminine! The windows were adorned with delicate lacy curtains. The bed — neatly made, no less — was covered with a flower-print spread and lots of throw pillows. A girl's bed! The walls, painted a pastel pink, were covered with posters — posters of (Jeri gasped) guys! Leonardo deCaprio seemed to be featured prominently, but there were others Jeri recognized. No Star Wars posters. No 'babe' calendar. That was all gone — just as magically as all this 'girly' stuff had appeared.

Jeri slowly opened her closet, knowing with certainty what she would find, and she wasn't disappointed. Girl's clothes, and such a selection! She knew she had to pick out something for going to the club, but she was overwhelmed! As Jeff, she'd have just pulled on a pair of Dockers and a polo shirt. But as Jeri, and facing all these choices? She felt a brief wave of panic, thinking that she and Molly had gotten in over their heads when the agreed to meet Anne and the girls.

Just as quickly as it had come, Jeri forced the panic away. If she were going out, then she'd make the most of it. She picked out a blouse and grabbed a skirt. That should do. Not too provocative, but not prudish. The kind of thing Jeff would have appreciated seeing a girl wearing. Now for shoes — and another surprise! Jeri was totally shocked by the number of pairs of shoes she had. She thought about wearing heels — to look sexy - but then took another glance. How was she supposed to walk in those things? Her feet were sore from the relatively low heels she'd worn back from the park — and she was going to spend an entire evening in them. She picked up a pair of flats, grateful that her closet had something without heels.

Jeri started to strip to change, but paused to look in the mirror. She'd seen the changes in Molly. But now she saw her own body for the first time. She gasped in wonder. Molly was right — she did sort of look like Jeri Ryan, but with larger breasts. She ran her hand admiringly over her figure, amazed and secretly delighted at the body she now possessed. She gasped with pleasure as her fingers danced over her nipples, thrilled at the tingling sensations as her hands lingered. "If I'm only a girl until midnight, maybe I should make the most of it," Jeri said to herself. Her hand slid down off her boob, toward her crotch. Her breathing deepened as her fingers again explored her new equipment. The warm tingling sensations quickly built, a inwardly-focused sensation that seemed to spread up from her crotch to meet the pleasure emanating from the boob she still caressed. Jeri marveled at the difference between this female body and her old one — Jeff's pleasure centered between his legs. This was different — the sensations seemed to want to engulf her entire body.

**********

Jeri knew that Molly was nervous — it was painfully obvious. Molly was wearing something much sexier than Jeri's outfit — Molly had confided that this was the MOST conservative outfit in her closet. And her heels! Jeri smiled to herself; her choice of shoes was much better. Molly seemed so uncomfortable and unsteady on her four inch heels.

Jeri and Molly had been to the Coconut Club before — as Jeff and Matt. Now, however, they were girls. As a result, they both felt very uncomfortable. They'd tried to find an out-of-the-way table, but Anne and Tonya steered them toward a very prominent table — too prominent, Jeri thought - next to the dance floor, and midway between the door and the bar. The table was in plain view of all the guys who came in. Jeri felt very, very self-conscious, especially as she realized that guys were staring at her.

Anne put a tray onto the table and slid into her chair. Molly took her drink from the tray, and tried a tiny sip. But before Jeri could get hers, a couple of guys came over. "Hi," one guy said. "I couldn't help noticing you haven't been out on the floor. Can I maybe get you to change that?"

Jeri glanced up at the guy, her face frozen in surprise. This guy was trying to hit on her! She glanced at Molly, and saw that she was in the same state with the other guy! She felt a palpable terror at the thought, and gulped hard. "I'm afraid not," she finally said, then turned away from the guy. She knew the action was rude, but she didn't have any other idea what to do.

She felt, rather than saw, the guy leave, and saw the bemused expression on Anne's face. "What?" she asked, puzzled.

Anne's grin broadened. "You two really are something," she said.

Molly frowned. "What do you mean?"

Anne smiled. "We've all been out dancing. We've all been talking with guys - all but two of us, that is."

Jeri felt a bit odd. Something didn't quite seem right, but she couldn't put her finger on it. And Anne's smile — it seemed a bit odd. Phony? Mischievous? Jeri couldn't figure it out. "In case you've forgotten, we're not really…" She stopped suddenly, her head feeling like it was swimming, and her senses reeling. Something was really wrong. She tried to talk, but it was like her body was suddenly refusing to obey her commands.

"You're really what?" Anne's smile turned, until it was truly malicious. "A couple of guys trying to act like girls for the night?" She practically glared at Jeri. "I think you two really need to experience being women, don't you." It wasn't a question.

Jeri tried to say something, to scream or move or something. But her will couldn't overcome whatever Anne had done to her. Suddenly she understood — the drink. Anne had drugged her drink, and probably Molly's, too! Jeri felt the panic gripping her, and knew she had to get out of here. These girls weren't their friends. Jeri suddenly realized that the girls were nasty, vindictive, and evil. Somehow, Jeri had to escape, but her body still refused to obey her.

Tonya leaned close to Jeri's ear, whispering very loudly so Jeri could hear her over the music. "I think you should go find some guy to dance with. You do want to dance with a guy, don't you?"

Jeri felt her will draining. "Yes," she muttered, in direct opposition to what her mind said. "I want to dance with a guy."

Tonya grinned wickedly. "Go find a guy to dance with. And you are going to enjoy yourself, aren't you?"

Jeri felt herself standing and turning toward the bar. Inwardly, she screamed as she watched herself walk up to a guy and ask him to dance. Against her will, she took the guy's hand and practically pulled him to the dance floor. And as she started dancing, she saw Molly doing the same.

After a few dances, the guy led Jeri back to the table, where Anne, Jenn, and Tonya sat, smiling at her predicament. The guy left to get a drink for them both, leaving Jeri alone with the girls.

"Was that fun?" Anne taunted. "Oh, go ahead. Tell us what you're really thinking."

Jeri felt a burst of mental freedom at Anne's words. "Why are you doing this to us?" she practically cried.

"Did you enjoy dancing?" Anne asked again.

Jeri felt a mental compulsion. "It was kind of fun. Different, but fun."

Jennifer smiled. "And are you curious to do more?"

"No!" Jeri cried. "Please, no!" She knew what these girls were going to do to her and Molly.

Tonya leaned closer to Jeri. "You want to do more. You want to go all the way — to experience sex as a woman."

Jeri felt her will crumbling again. One thought, powerful and all-compelling, pushed to the forefront of her mind. She wanted to have sex. "I want to have sex as a woman," she echoed weakly, her mind still struggling against whatever drug she'd been given.

Anne smiled. "A real girl would ask the guy if there's somewhere they can go to be alone." Jeri felt Anne's words twisting her mind, bending her intent until she knew she was going to do exactly as Anne had suggested. "And then she'd do whatever he wanted."

When the guy returned, Jeri accepted the drink graciously, like a perfect woman. After a few moments, she leaned closer, and whispered in his ear. To the amusement of the three girls, the guy stood and took Jeri's hand, and proceeded to walk her out of the club.

**********

The apartment was typical of a college guy's apartment, but Jeri didn't care. The compulsion given her by Anne hadn't worn off — in fact, she found herself getting wetter and hornier as they got closer. Now, as the guy led Jeri into his apartment, Jeri found herself nearly uncontrollable.

The guy — Jeri still didn't know his name — led her to the sofa, and sat down with her. He offered her a drink, but she declined, pulling him into a deep kiss instead. As she kissed him, her mind inwardly screamed, knowing that she was really a guy and that she didn't want to do this. But Anne had controlled her somehow, and Jeri couldn't resist.

As they sat, intertwined and kissing, Jeri felt his hands on her breasts. She tingled with excitement at the sensations, and she knew that her nipples were rock-hard, jutting forth proudly to announce her heat. Between her legs, she felt her moistness, and knew that she had to satiate her growing lust.

The guys' hands unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off. With a quick motion, Jeri's bra came off, baring her generous bosom. The guy's warm breath felt tantalizingly good as he leaned closer and began to tease her nipples with his lips and tongue. Jeri's hands clasped around his head, pulling him into her bosom, not wanting to let him stop the exciting foreplay. She felt his hands fumbling with the waistband of her skirt, followed by a sudden looseness around her waist. His large strong hands slipped into her panties, touching her wetness, probing around her womanhood. She moaned softly as his finger touched her clit, and gasped in wonder when it slipped inside her, probing her as-yet-virginal insides. Jeri felt her back arching, pressing her bosom more into the guy's face as her passion mounted.

Jeri wanted to escape, to shut down her mind and let her body run on instinct. But whatever Anne had done to her didn't permit that luxury. She had to watch, horrified, as her primal passions guided her actions — passions enhanced by Anne's insistent compulsion. The guy pulled one of her hands into his own waistband, and Jeri gasped as she felt his dick — large and firm and swollen for action. Her mind screamed that this was wrong, but the compulsions led her to begin stroking the dick, teasing it, fondling it, preparing it for further action.

Jeri felt the encroaching orgasm, and knew that it was a matter of time until she lost her virginity. While part of her mind was curious, mostly she was repulsed, knowing that this wasn't happening on her terms, but that she'd been forced. She felt the scream escape her lips as the orgasm hit — wave after wave of pulsating pleasure, rising within her, spreading outward until she felt it encompassed her entire body. And still it continued.

Finally, her primal compulsion could take no more. She watched herself unfastening the guy's pants, sliding them down to expose his shaft. She felt herself turning on the couch, her legs opening invitingly as she pointed her wet womanhood at the guy and his exposed rod. Jeri wondered, curiously, when her panties had been removed — a slight mental exercise to distract her from the sex she was having.

She felt the dick pressing against her genitals, probing softly but insistently as it sought its goal. And then, suddenly, it slid inside her, shocking her at how large and firm it felt within her, and causing a renewed rippling of her vaginal muscles, perfectly timed with the pulses of a new orgasm. The guy began pumping, in and out, faster and faster, massaging her pussy from within as he stroked deeper and deeper. Jeri lost track of time, not wanting to know what was happening, but forced to observe by whatever drug Anne had given her. Finally, she felt the guy's body stiffen, and with a couple of last thrusts, she felt his dick begin to pulse. Even as his pulsing orgasm tripped another small wave of ripples in her pussy, Jeri knew that the guy was pumping his load into her. She wanted to retch, to rebel at what was happening, but she couldn't. Her mind was driven by its sex-crazed obsession and some strange compulsion.

**********

Jeri knew she looked a bit disheveled as she walked back into the Coconut club. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was nearly eleven. It was still very early, by a guy's standards. Automatically, she walked to the table, where Anne, Tonya, and Jennifer sat.

Anne was a bit startled when Jeri slid into her chair. "Back so early? You must have been eager!" And she got a very knowing, and wicked, grin. "You look thoroughly satisfied, too!"

Jeri knew she wanted to cry, to lash out, to scream — anything, but she couldn't. She just sat, silent, at Anne's taunts.

"Well, was it good?" Tonya added her own barbs.

"It was physically pleasant," Jeri found herself saying, responding in an almost clinical analysis of her sex. "The orgasms I experienced while he was inside me were quite pleasurable."

Anne tilted her head back and laughed. "You sound like you enjoyed it! Tell me — would you do it again, despite really being a guy?"

Jeri felt compelled to answer, no matter how embarrassing. "Yes, I would probably do it again." She winced, wondering whether the girls would make her repeat her performance after her confession.

Tonya smiled. "Did he ask you for a blow job?"

Jeri was terrified inside. At least she'd been spared that humiliation — at the time. Now, when she answered, these girls had the power over her to make her do whatever they wanted — including sucking some man's dick. "No."

"Aw, too bad," Jennifer said, clearly disappointed. "Maybe next time…"

The torture of Jeri was interrupted when Molly sat down, looking far more disheveled than Jeri had. "Oh, look girls!" Anne cried. "Our other little minx. Tell me, Molly, how was it?"

Molly was crying. No matter what drugs they'd used, it couldn't stop Molly from crying. "I was raped," she answered, her voice level despite the tears. "He took me back to his fraternity house. There were four of them."

Tonya's eyebrows raised and she got a gleeful smile. "Oh, good! A gang-bang! Tell us everything!"

"He touched me until I was ready for an orgasm, then he entered me from behind. He was still touching me and made me have an orgasm. One of his frat brothers came in, and decided that I should give him a blow job while I was getting fucked." Tears were streaming down Molly's cheeks. She wanted to stop, but her mind had no choice but to continue her tale.

"Did the cum taste good?" Jennifer taunted.

"It was warm and salty-tasting. I wanted to gag, but I couldn't. I swallowed it all."

"Do continue."

"As soon as the guy came in my mouth, he left and returned with another frat member, who took his place. Then the guy came in my vagina."

Anne was leaning forward. "Did you enjoy that?"

"His orgasm made me cum again. It was physically pleasant." She swallowed, fighting to control herself, but it was impossible. "When he finished, another guy pulled me down on top of him and entered me. And then the second guy entered my rear."

Tonya feigned surprise. "3 holes at once! Oh, you are such a little vixen!"

"When I finished the blow job, the first guy got another erection and demanded that I perform oral sex on him. I complied."

Jeri felt some slight measure of control returning. Was the drug wearing off, or was it because the girls were not paying attention to her. "What did you do to us?" she demanded weakly. "Why are you doing this?"

Anne spun, startled by Jeri's burst of control. Then she laughed. "Every guy deserves this!" she cackled. "Every guy who thinks of girls as nothing but pretty objects needs a lesson in what it's like to be the girl!" Her loathing of guys was evident in her tone and in the fire in her eyes. "So — how is it to experience life on the other side?" She glared at Jeri, then at Molly. "You two will certainly think twice about treating girls as sex objects, won't you?" She suddenly clutched her purse. "Come on, girls. Time to go." Tonya and Jennifer, evil vindictive smiles etched on their faces, stood with Anne. Jeri and Molly tried to rise, but found it difficult. "Not you two. You can find your own way home." She snorted. "You can always try to earn a ride." She spun abruptly, laughing at her own little joke, and stormed out of the club, leaving Jeri and Molly sitting at the table.

Whatever Anne had given the girls, it wore off quickly, leaving Jeri and Molly in control, and without a way home, and with lots of guys interested in 'helping'. The girls called a cab instead, unwilling to take a chance with another guy. Jeri gave the cab driver a decent tip and turned toward her door. "You want to stay with me tonight?" she asked Molly. Molly nodded numbly, and followed Jeri into the house and up to Jeri's room. Jeri knew that Molly was barely keeping her composure after the experience. She wondered when Molly was going to lose it.

**********

A sliver of sunlight crossed the pillow, and fell on Jeff's face, causing his eyelids to try to shut tighter. But his lids couldn't block all of the intense sunlight, and his eyes sent a message to his brain. It's daytime. Wake up. Jeff ignored the message and rolled over. There was still time to sleep.

A banging sound pierced the fog in his brain. "Jeff, mom says you need to get up." Tracy's voice. His little sister, he slowly realized. He ignored the noise. "Mom, he's not getting up." Her voice faded as she turned from his door. Jeff sighed, hoping the disturbances were over. But a new banging sounded mere moments later. "Jeff, get your butt out of bed!" It was his mom. "It's late, and I've got things to do. I need you up to watch Tracy!" She was very loud, and clearly upset, like she usually was. "Do you hear? Get up!" Her voice started to fade — she was going back downstairs. "I swear, I wish you were more like Tracy — she's …." Her voice faded away.

Jeff finally gave up on sleeping more and tried to open his eyes. He immediately winced at the stab of sunlight, and his eyes clamped tightly shut. He turned his head away from the light, and tried again. This time, his eyes stayed open. For several seconds, his eyes were unfocused, wandering, as if his mind were trying to orient itself. Then he sat up.

Jeff stared around his room - his _old_ room. A Star Wars droid fighter hung from the ceiling. Star Wars posters and a swimsuit calendar adorned the walls. Clothes were strung around the room. He shut his eyes and opened them again. It was late, so he'd slept in. That meant it was a weekend. That meant — the entire thing had been a dream? Was it possible?

Jeff glanced around, and saw Matt slowing sitting up from the floor, from Jeff's sleeping bag. Jeff shook his head to clear it. If it had been a dream, then today was Saturday. And he was going to meet Matt for a trip to the beach. Things didn't make sense.

"Man, I had the strangest dream last night," Matt said quietly.

Jeff swallowed hard. "Me, too."

Matt stood, clad only in his underwear, and stretched. Jeff looked, and blinked again. Matt was much more tanned than he remembered. Which meant … Jeff gasped when Matt turned toward him. "Oh, shit!"

Matt's dazed morning expression changed into a concerned frown. "What?"

Jeff pointed. "Your chest," he stammered.

At that moment, Matt got a good look at Jeff. "Holy shit!" he cried, his face reflecting his shock. "You're ...."

Matt and Jeff stared at each other for several seconds, unable to comprehend what they saw. On Jeff's tanned chest were two triangles of lightly colored flesh centered around his nipples, two triangles that matched the outline of a bikini top. It appeared as if he'd spent several hours tanning — wearing a bikini. Matt's chest looked exactly the same.

"It wasn't a dream," Matt finally said softly. "It was real."

Jeff wasn't listening. He slid his underwear down — and saw the tan lines of a woman's bikini bottom on his skin. "Holy shit!" he said, echoing Matt's sentiments. Finally, he looked up at Matt. "It wasn't a dream!" he finally said softly.

"Then we … I … we went out last night," Matt stammered. "And I … got … fucked!" He suddenly looked like he wanted to cry. Jeff knew exactly how he felt.

**********

"Are you sure about this?" Matt asked uncertainly as they entered the mall.

Jeff stopped for a second and stared at Matt. "Do you want to know what happened, and how it happened?" Matt gulped and nodded. "Well, the old man gave us the tickets, so I figure he's probably a good place to start getting answers." Before Matt could stall any further, Jeff marched into the mall, toward the location of the Radio Shack store, where they'd met the old man and obtained the guest passes. But there was no Spells R Us store - justy the Radio Shack they'd always remembered.

Matt shook his head as they crossed the parking lot back to the car. "I don't know about you, but I'm almost glad we didn't find the old guy."

Jeff glanced up from staring at the pavement. "Why?"

Matt frowned at Jeff. "Look — we go to a store, get sent to a beach, get turned into babes, then get screwed." Though the words sounded silly, Matt's tone was deathly serious. "I don't want to know anything more about it."

Jeff shuffled his foot, kicking a small pebble. "Maybe if we go…"

"No!" Matt barely concealed his anger, an anger rising from shame and fear. "I'm not going anywhere else. Drop it!"

**********

The old woman looked up when she saw the young man in her ticket line. A frown crossed her face. "This is a private park, young man."

Jeff glanced nervously over his shoulder, at the line of girls behind him. "Yes, ma'am. I know." He tried to lean closer, to talk more softly, but with the safety glass between him and the old woman, that was impossible. "I was, um, well…"

The old woman narrowed her eyes and stared at him. "Oh yes, I remember. You were here yesterday." She lifted her chin slightly, changing the angle, to stare down her nose at Jeff. "And you have returned."

Jeff felt as though his entire soul were naked and exposed for the world to see. He tried to stand brave, while he wanted to shrink away from this woman. But at the same time, he had to know.

The old woman turned away from Jeff. "Anya," she called, "please take over for me." She shifted out of her chair, allowing a girl to slip into her place. "Let's discuss this in my office." She let herself out of the ticket booth and took Jeff's arm. Jeff was surprised by the strength of her grip, and he allowed himself to be led toward a low building, the same building in which he and Matt had talked with this same woman yesterday.

The woman sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers. "What can I do for you, Jeff?" She watched surprise flicker over Jeff's features. "Yes, I know all about you."

"Magic," Jeff muttered to himself with certainty.

"Perceptive of you," the old woman said with admiration. "Most young people don't believe in such things."

Jeff looked down, embarrassed. "I've had some experience with it lately, you might say."

The old woman nodded. "Including the potion the girls slipped you and your friend last night."

Jeff's head snapped up. "How did you…" He let it drop. Magic. His head dropped again. "So that's what it was."

The old woman smiled again. "And you're back. Despite what happened last night."

"I wanted to know…"

"No, you didn't." The old woman interrupted him. "You already knew." She dropped her hands. "So why are you really here?"

Jeff's mouth opened, and then his mouth settled in a thin smile. "You seem to know everything."

"Touche. But I want to hear it from your own mouth."

Jeff bit his lip. "Despite everything that happened, I want to know if, you know, if I can change again - for good."

"Because you got along with your mother and sister for the first time since you lost your dad? Because in the few hours you were home as a girl, you had more peace and harmony in your life than in the rest of your life?"

Jeff felt a tear trying to sneak out of one eye. "Yes," he answered softly. "I just can't fit in with them. We're always fighting. It's no fun. My family is falling apart."

The old woman looked deep into Jeff's eyes. "You would become a girl, sacrificing everything you knew as a boy, to make your family happier?" She nodded. "Of course you would, since you don't have any happy memories with your family. All you've known is pain." She reached into her desk and pulled out a piece of paper, then thrust it across the desk to Jeff. "Fill this out."

Jeff glanced at the sheet, and then looked back up. "A membership application?" He looked at the figures. "Pretty expensive, isn't it?'

The old woman smiled. "How much is happiness worth? Besides, I'm sure you can wait another year or two to buy a car, don't you?"

Jeff nodded. "Yeah, I guess." He silently stared at the paper again for several moments. "Am I doing the right thing?"

"That's not for me to decide," the old woman answered. She watched as Jeff fidgeted, an internal debate raging within him as he considered what he was about to do. Slowly, though, he began to fill out the application. "And just for your information," she continued, "I do _not_ condone what the girls did to you. Their use of magic was _very_ wrong. I've revoked their memberships as a start to their punishment."

Jeff looked up from the application to the old woman. His eyes were watering. "Thank you," he said simply.

**********

Jeri waited by the park entrance, nervous and excited at the same time. She glanced, for the tenth time, at her watch. Presently, a deep blue Camaro screeched across the parking lot and stopped in front of her.

"Sorry I'm late, babe," Matt called as he reached over to unlatch the door.

Jeri smiled. "I know. You were working on your car - again." She slid into the passenger seat.

Matt grinned. "There's just no fooling you, Jer." He slammed the car into gear and departed with a screech of the tires. "Do you have plans for tonight?"

Jeri smiled. "Mom and I are taking Tracy to a movie."

Matt snorted. "No doubt it'll be a 'chick flick'." His opinion of such movies was very plainly exposed. "Too bad you don't want to repeat last night."

Jeri got a curious smile on her face. Maybe Matt remembered getting laid last night, but he didn't remember that it was as a girl. He didn't remember that they'd spent the day at Bikini Beach, or that he'd been changed into a very voluptuous girl. He had no recollection of going out with three other girls to the Coconut Club, and then being forced into having sex. But Jeri did. She remembered everything. She thought about the membership card in her purse, with its two special clauses: membership in Bikini Beach was permanent; and there were no refunds, exchanges, or cancellations.

FIN

This series of stories was originally posted as 3 separate stories. The theme ties together so well I figured it would be best to make a 3-chapter or 3-part single posting. Yes, I know that this borrows VERY HEAVILY from "Revenge of the Nerds". That's on purpose. If you don't like that, don't read. I just added some Bikini Beach 'magic'....

**********************************************************************

A group of nerds at a college get tricked into going to Bikini Beach, and then serving as sluts for a fraternity party. When their friends decide to help get revenge, things get very interesting for the fraternity.

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Brandon and Robert had been the best of friends since they were four. They'd grown up across the street from each other. They went to the same schools, and they shared most of the same interests. The one problem, to the consternation of their mothers and the disappointment of their fathers, was that neither boy took any sort of interest in sports. Neither boy was built for sports; they were under six feet in height, and rather slight of build. They only participated in outdoor activities when they were forced; both would rather be inside, reading, building models of their own design, and later, building electronics projects, playing Dungeons and Dragons, doing some serious computer programming and light hacking, and reading lots more. In a word, they were nerds. Socially, they were both inept; neither boy had dated at all in high school. While their grades were both exemplary, either mother would have taken a B or two in exchange for some girlfriends or dating. Or even sports. Alas, it was not to be. Brandon was valedictorian — by two hundredths of a grade point.

And now, high school was over; it was time for the boys to move on. The city college was out; it had none of the engineering and science programs the boys craved. The nearest college was seven hours drive away, on the coast. Their fathers held out some faint hope that the boys would start spending time on the beaches, and get tanned, muscled, and maybe take up surfing and dating. It was the hope only a parent could have; the chance of anything like that happening was less than the chance of a major blizzard in Honolulu in August.

With great fanfare, the boys packed up the old Ford Taurus Brandon had gotten from an aunt, said goodbye to their parents, and hit the road. Seven weary hours later, they arrived on campus, ready to start their new life as adult college men.

Housing turned out to be a much more significant problem than they'd expected. While freshmen and sophomores had once been required to live on campus, a new state law designed to equalize opportunities for minority students had caused an explosion in the student population. Housing was in short supply, even after the sophomore rule was lifted. Expecting this, the campus had taken some drastic emergency actions over the course of the summer.

And so, Brandon and Rob trudged along Palm Walk, traversing campus from the housing office to their new residence. "It doesn't look like much," Rob said warily as they approached the old gymnasium.

Brandon, ever the optimist, shrugged off his friend's worries. "I'm sure they've done a great job on the inside. Remember the dean said they made individual rooms for us."

Rob wasn't convinced. As they neared the old gym building, his fears magnified. The building had been slated for demolition. Then, with a shortage of space and funds, it had been spared that fate, so that the inside could be transformed into dozens of cubicle-like dorm rooms in a desperate attempt to handle the overpopulation.

Inside, they dodged a bucket, half full of rainwater in a testament to the building's dilapidated condition. Former offices had been turned into rooms. Bleachers had been removed, and thin walls hastily erected to make a maze of rooms. Rob looked around their assigned room and groaned. "I told you this wasn't going to be that great." Of the two, Rob was easily the more pessimistic.

Brandon shook his head, smiling. "Oh, no. We'll get up our pictures, and set up our computer. It'll be great. Just wait and see."

Rob glanced around the room again. His heart sank when he noted that the bunk bed was three high. "And we've got another roommate, too."

Brandon glanced at the bed and smiled. "Great. I hope he plays chess."

Despite Rob's sense of hopelessness, the room actually did come together rather well — all things considered. They were just about done unpacking when a knock sounded on the door casing. "Are you two assigned here as well?" The voice from the doorway sounded foreign.

At the door was an impeccably dressed young man, alternating his gaze from Rob and Brandon, to the empty bunk, to the number on the door, and then to a slip of paper in his hand. Then he repeated the cycle.

"I'm Rob. I guess we're your roommates."

The boy adjusted his wire-rim glasses and smiled. "Splendid," he said with a smile. "Bertram Smythe." He reached out into the hallway and slid in a suitcase. "Which bunk is mine?"

Rob glanced at Brandon, then back at Bertram. "I guess you can take the top one if you like."

Bertram smiled. "By the way, my friends call me Bertie. Or Bert." He surveyed the room again, and his eyes lit up at the sight of the computer in the corner. "By chance do you have the new graphics chipset in that?" he asked hopefully.

This time, it was Brandon who glanced at Rob, and it was an I-told-you-so look. "It's a quad-processor system, with sixteen gig of memory, and running the ATI graphics. Over five terabytes of hard disk, a burner, and a blu-ray player."

Bert smiled. "This could be a truly stunning term," he said, clearly glad to have met Brandon and Rob. "The only thing that could be better is if one of you chaps liked to play chess."

**********

Each dorm had a dorm council; it was no different with the old gym. Rob was selected by their 'wing', which was the third row of rooms in the cavernous gym. The wing began to refer to themselves informally as Cellblock 3, since the entire arrangement seemed more suited to a prison than to a college. Still, each boy had a bed, a wardrobe closet, and a desk, and each room had its own light and false ceiling. The communal bathroom and shower were less than optimal, but it would have to do.

It didn't take Rob long to realize that the administration, possibly at the urging of the ROTC and athletic departments, had concentrated the jocks and ROTC in the existing dorms; that left Gym Hall filled mostly with academic types. Rob began to get to know some of them on the dorm council.

Fred was a sixteen year old computer genius who'd finished school two years early. It would have been more, but his father wouldn't let him graduate any quicker. As a result, Fred had been bored, and got a reputation as a prankster in his high school. And as he described some of the stunts he'd pulled, the other boys sat mesmerized; they realized they were in the presence of a master.

Arnold, on the other hand, was a very shy, contemplative lad. His talents had gone unrecognized in the small town school he attended; it wasn't until he took the SATs that anyone realized he was incredibly gifted.

And then there was Chuck. Chuck defied the stereotypes of the rest of the dorm. Chuck had served two terms in the navy, as a soundman in a ballistic missile submarine. Around electronics, Chuck was right at home. Compared to Chuck, Rob and Brandon realized they were amateurs.

With such an assortment of gifted students, it didn't take long for the rest of the college to being picking on the new dorm and its occupants. One morning, the boys arose to find "Nerd Hall" spray-painted over the door of the gym. Girls avoided invitations to the old gym like the plague. Socially, it was a leper colony.

One evening, as they surfed the net, Brandon turned to Rob. "You know, I think we ought to pledge a fraternity."

Rob halted in mid keystroke. "Why?"

"Women," Brandon replied simply.

"Women?"

"Women." Brandon sat back. "Have you noticed that none of the guys in the dorm have dated? You know why? Because the rest of them think we're a bunch of nerds."

Rob sighed. "Aren't we?"

Brandon smiled. "Touche'. Yeah, I guess we are." He leaned forward again in anticipation. "But just think — if we got in a really good frat, then we wouldn't be nerds anymore. And that would mean we could meet women."

Rob sat and thought for a moment. "But some of the fraternities are pretty exclusive," he said cautiously. "How are we going to get in?"

**********

Rob had proven to be right. Of the six rush parties they'd gone to, Rob and Brandon had been shuffled to one side almost immediately. While other young men were seriously courted as potential pledges, Rob and Brandon were barely spoken to.

Then they came to the Alpha Sigma Sigma rush party. Rob was pessimistic as usual, but things seemed different. They'd been talked to, like they were real candidates. They were told of the benefits of being in their fraternity, and told of the social schedule, which included lots of parties. It was almost like the Alphas wanted Rob and Brandon to join.

Still, Rob was unconvinced. Later that night, he lay awake, trying to figure out what bothered him. "You know, Brandon, it doesn't seem right."

Brandon peered over his bunk above Rob. "What?"

"The Alphas. I mean, they're the first house to talk to us."

Brandon grinned. "Yeah, isn't it great? And they invited us to their next party, too. You know, Rob, this could be a major turning point in our lives."

Rob sighed. "Something just doesn't seem right," he repeated.

Above Brandon, Bert chimed in. "I have to agree with Rob, Brandon. In the few weeks we've been here, I've come to the conclusion that the Alphas are among the most obnoxious groups on the campus."

Brandon wasn't about to be dissuaded. "All we have to do is get dates for the dance next Friday night." He spoke as if it would be a trivial task.

**********

Friday morning, Brandon and Rob strode quietly out of the physics building. "Any luck?" Rob asked.

Brandon shook his head. "No." They walked in silence for another few steps. "I don't get it," Brandon finally said in frustration. "This is only the most exclusive party the Alphas give, and we can't get dates."

Rob nodded. "Yeah, but we're nerds, remember?"

"Hey guys," a voice called from behind them. Rob and Brandon turned simultaneously to see one of the Alphas running to catch up to them. "Glad I caught you," he said between breaths.

"Hi, Dave," Rob said without enthusiasm.

"Gonna be a great party tonight," Dave said with a grin. "You guys got dates lined up?"

Brandon shook his head. "No, we haven't had any luck."

Dave's face fell. "Oh, man, that's too bad. You have to have a date, you know." He seemed to be in sympathy with the two boys. "You try the Tri-Deltas?" Also known as the "Triple Nipples," the Tri Delta sorority was known as being quite friendly and very outgoing.

Rob nodded slowly. "No luck."

Dave looked surprised. Someone could strike out with the Tri Delts? That was unheard of. Then he looked thoughtful for a moment. "Say, you guys heard of the water park? It's mostly for girls, and some of the guys say it's a great place to pick up dates."

Brandon's eyes lit up. "No, I hadn't heard of it. You think we'll have luck there?"

Dave grinned broadly. "I guarantee you two will come away with a couple of hot babes." He rummaged around in his pocket and fished out his wallet. He pulled out a pair of faded, worn tickets. "Since I started going steady with Leslie, I guess I don’t need these any more. Why don't you guys take them and go pick up some dates for tonight?"

Brandon took the tickets like they were made of gold. "Wow, thanks man," he said eagerly. "You're a lifesaver."

Dave shook his head. "No problem, guys. You can return the favor sometime."

**********

"Look, we need to find dates, right?" Brandon stood by Rob, outside the gate of Bikini Beach. It was early afternoon, and the early autumn sun was still warm.

Something made Rob nervous, although he couldn't explain it. "I don't know..."

Brandon watched as another pair of shapely women walked into the park. "Look, from what we've seen going in, this place should have a ton of good looking girls. And if we get good dates, maybe we'll even get lucky, huh?"

Rob let the last argument persuade him; reluctantly, he walked with Brandon up to the ticket gate.

"May I help you?" a polite girl in the booth asked them.

Brandon smiled, while Rob looked down from shyness. "Yes, we were given a pair of tickets, and we'd like to go in the park."

The girl glanced at the tickets that Brandon was holding, then smiled. "Technically, they aren't tickets. This is a private park, open to members and guests only. And a limited number of guest passes such as you hold. Those are one-day passes. Just swipe them in the turnstile, go in the locker room, and change. And remember to shower before you leave the locker room."

**********

"Hey Brandon," Rob called from the shower. He cleared his throat; it sounded a bit squeaky. "You almost ready?"

Brandon didn't answer. Rob pulled back the curtain of his shower and glanced around; it wasn't like Brandon not to answer. And Rob's jaw dropped. Standing in the middle of the locker room, a shocked expression on his face, stood Brandon. Or what had been Brandon. "What's happening to me?" came the soft voice from Brandon's changing form.

Rob stared hard. It was a girl. And not just any girl, but a very well endowed blond girl standing topless. But what was more striking was that Brandon's facial features still remained; Rob knew with sickening certainty that this girl had been Brandon until only a few moments ago. "What the hell..." He stopped; his voice sounded ... higher? Rob glanced down, and nearly screamed as he saw orbs pushing out from his chest, slowly inflating into tits. He glanced back at Brandon, and saw the last masculine features fade from the now-lovely face. "Brandon, what's happening to us?"

Brandon stared down at his massive boobs, then back at Rob. "I don't know," he wailed in a sultry feminine voice. "But you're changing, too."

Rob glanced down, and knew that Brandon was right. He felt the tug on his shoulders increasing, and knew that he had large and still-growing breasts on his chest. He knew, with sickening certainty, that his swimsuit bottom was as flat as Brandon's, and that his entire body was being resculpted. "This is like a polymorph spell," Rob said softly, using a D&D reference.

A few minutes later, the changes were all over. Brandon and Rob were gone, replaced with two extremely well endowed blond girls. And it was worse; both felt a strange and compelling urge, although to do what, they didn't know. Before they could decide what to do, the locker room door opened and a pair of sorority girls came boldly in.

"Hi, girls," they said with an air of knowledge. Rob and Brandon both knew that these girls were aware of their change. "Why don't you come with us and get ready for the party?"

"I don't want to," Brandon stammered. In his soft alto, it sounded seductive, even though he was trying to be firm.

One of the girls smiled. "But you will come with us, won't you." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

Rob nodded slowly, his mind fighting against the strange power these girls seemed to have over him.

"Of course you will. You know why?" one girl mocked with her question. "Because there will be lots of boys at the party."

At the word boys, Rob felt a very powerful sensation — between his legs. He knew now what the strange compulsion was. It was sexual need. This body was horny - almost uncontrollably so.

And so Rob and Brandon allowed the girls to help them put on bikini tops, then followed them out of Bikini Beach to their waiting car. Moments later, the two were at the Alpha Sigma Sigma house, clad only in skimpy bikinis.

Dave walked up to Brandon and Rob, then smiled at the girls. "Good job," he said with a smile to the ladies. "Well, Rob, Brandon, you ready to party?"

Rob felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, even as he tried to fight the rising needs of this body. They'd been set up. Dave had knowingly sent them to Bikini Beach. And now — he could only imagine what awaited them.

**********

Brandon was walking stiffly, sore. She, for he was still trapped in the ultra-slut body from Bikini Beach, hurt in places Brandon had never imagined. Clad in only their skimpy bikinis, covered with sexual fluids, the two erstwhile boys walked painfully back toward their gym dorm. They'd been done by the entire fraternity. Multiply. In ways that neither could have possibly imagined. They'd been used and abused and totally humiliated, and then the fraternity guys unceremoniously tossed them out of the house, to walk back to their dorm.

Neither boy spoke to the other; each was alone in their misery and embarrassment. Finally, Brandon noticed something. "I think we're changing back," he said hopefully.

Rob stopped, staring at Brandon in the dim light of the street lamp, and then he nodded. "Yeah, I think so." He grabbed Brandon's arm. "Let's get out of sight." The pair ducked into an alleyway, and crouched behind a dumpster. With agonizing slowness, the two boys changed back into their original forms. Finally, the changes were done.

"We were set up," Rob said simply as they continued their hike.

"Yup," Brandon said glumly. "And the car is miles away at the park."

"Are you going to tell anyone?"

Brandon shook his head. "Nope. You?"

"Nope. Besides, you think anyone would believe us?"

The continued to march along glumly, until they arrived at the dorm. They crept as quietly as possible into their room, hoping that Bert would be asleep. He wasn't. "Good party?" he asked cheerfully.

Rob glanced at Brandon and shook his head. "Nope."

**********

"Hey, Brandon." Brandon turned to see who was calling his name; it was one of the Alphas. "You look a little different today." The guy laughed. Another of the Alphas joined in. "Yeah. You looked a lot better last night." Brandon put his head down and marched into the computer lab, away from the jeering and taunts. His cheeks burned from the humiliation.

It didn't get any better back at the dorm; someone had sneaked in and plastered the hallways and restroom with 8x10 color pictures of the girls in varied acts of sex. Brandon slunk back to his room.

To his dismay, the door bore a painted message: "Get a lifetime membership."

As Brandon opened the door, Bert came around the corner. "What's all this, then?" he asked, pointing to the message.

Brandon shook his head. "I don't know," he lied. He wasn't ready to share this sordid chapter of his life — with anyone.

**********

His resolve to keep this deep dark secret didn't last. Later, some of the other guys came to their room. They'd wondered about the sudden sharp increase in taunting, the pictures, and the message on the door. Bert spoke for the group. "So what really happened?" he asked.

The room, tiny as it was, seemed tinier with the six guys in it. Rob lay on his bunk, staring at the bottom of Brandon's bunk. Brandon and Bert sat in their desk chairs, and Chuck sprawled in the third one. Fred squatted on floor, his legs crossed Indian style, while Arnold leaned against Rob's desk. It was an informal council of friends.

"Yeah, Brandon," Arnold chimed in. "What gives?

Brandon clenched his jaw. "Nothing." He turned back to his desk, trying to bury his thoughts in his physics text.

Chuck shook his head. "Look, we've noticed things are goofy today. And it all started when you were getting ready for that party last night. Something's up."

Rob didn't move his gaze. "It's nothing. Just leave it."

Arnold narrowed his eyes. "I don't get it. You guys are acting like something really bad happened. From what I've seen of the pictures, the only way I'd consider it bad is if  ¬_I_ had been one of those girls getting dorked so much." He chuckled, and then he saw Brandon's face reddening. The laugh died in Arnold's throat.

Chuck, too, had noticed. "There's some connection here," he said slowly. "All these pictures, you guys acting like something bad happened."

Rob turned toward Chuck. "They sent us to a magic park and turned us into girls. The girls in the pictures. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was laced with bitterness and venom.

Chuck stared in disbelief, alternating his gaze from Brandon, who had buried his beet-red face in his hands, to Rob, who had resumed staring at Brandon's bunk. Finally, he broke the awkward silence. "You're kidding, right?"

Fred interrupted him. "I don't think so, Chuck," he said softly. "It'd have to be like a sixteenth level mage with a polymorph spell, right?" He glanced at Arnold. "I've heard of magic. Real magic. Not the stage illusions, but real magic." He looked toward Bert, then Brandon, his eyes lighted as if by a strange energy. "Most people don't believe, but there are lots of cases of really strange things that science can't explain."

Chuck shook his head. "Man, you're getting too weird for me."

Arnold cut him off. "No, Fred's right. There are some people who can do things we can't explain."

Bert glanced over at Brandon. "So how did this magic work? Did someone cast a spell on you or something?"

Rob sighed. "No, we just went into the locker room and took a shower. And then, somehow, we changed."

Fred looked thoughtful before he stood abruptly. "Just a sec, guys." He left the room at a fast trot, and within moments, was back with a thick, dark book, which he'd already opened and was perusing. He plopped back on the floor, hunched over the book as he frantically flipped through pages.

Rob levered himself to one side and glanced down at Fred. The others were slowly congregating around him, glancing over his shoulder at the old tome.

"Ah, here it is!" Fred exclaimed with growing excitement. He pored over a section of one particular page. "Yeah, it was probably the shower."

"What are you talking about?" Chuck finally sputtered. "And what the hell is that book?"

Fred glanced down, feeling a bit embarrassed, which made his boyish face seem even younger. "It's a book about magic, from the Egyptian priests to modern times, including Druids and such." He found himself feeling quite defensive. "It's a reference to their practices and magic use and stuff."

Rob snorted. "And you believe that?"

Chuck glanced at the book, then back at Rob. "Have you got any other explanation?" Rob flushed and shut his mouth.

"According to this, a lot of spells could use a medium to hold them, ready for use, until they were activated. That's where the whole idea of potions came from." Fred looked up, feeling a bit proud of himself. "So it was probably the water in the showers."

"But we didn't drink any!" Rob protested. "At least I didn't!"

Fred looked up, beaming. "According to this, you didn't have to drink it. It could be activated by simple skin contact."

Rob leaned back on his elbow, his face impassive. "So now what?" The guys glanced around the room at each other, realizing that Rob had asked the perfect question.

Brandon glanced up at the ceiling for a few long seconds, although no-one noticed. Finally, he looked back down. "Gentlemen, we need to check this place out and find out what it can do."

**********

Chuck put down his binoculars and made one final mark on a piece of paper. In the rear seat, Arnold was doing exactly the same. And so was Brandon, sitting behind the steering wheel. They were parked across the road from Bikini Beach, and for the entire day, they'd been keeping careful watch.

"Okay, what have you got?" Brandon asked.

Chuck glanced at his sheet. Six thousand, four hundred twelve women admitted, and one hundred thirty-seven men. Six thousand five hundred forty-nine women exited, and no men."

Arnold glanced at his sheet. "Same thing I got."

Brandon nodded. "Me, too."

Chuck dropped his paper, his eyes tired from the day's watching. "I guess it's real."

"Yup," Arnold agreed, although his voice had a strange enthusiasm, as if he found the existence of magic exciting. "Now what?"

**********

The 'what' turned out to be another carefully measured experiment. One of the guys, selected by random draw from Bert, Chuck, Arnold, and Fred - since Rob and Brandon had already experienced the change - purchased a guest pass the next morning.

Brandon and Arnold sat in the car, watching girl after girl exit the park, wondering how they would know when Bert finally came out. And they realized that they might not know. She — if there was a magic change — would have to find them. The guys were very impatient by mid-afternoon, when Bert finally emerged from the water park. She walked daintily across the asphalt, her sandals slapping between the asphalt and her small feet. If she hadn't come to the car, they wouldn't have recognized her. "Hi, guys," she said cheerfully, as if nothing was wrong. "That is a really smashing park, you know?"

"Bert?" Arnold asked, incredulous. "Is it really you?"

Bert smiled; his body was that of an attractive co-ed, and she resembled Bert not at all. "Yes, I'm still in here."

Brandon frowned; he and Arnold had sat in the car for most of the day. "So what took so long?" he demanded as Bert slid her attractive body into the back seat.

Bert shrugged. "You don't expect me to go into a water park and not check out the rides, do you?"

Brandon shook his head in disbelief, then started the car and put it into gear. As they pulled onto the main road, he glanced in the mirror. Bert was nonchalantly combing out his long wet hair, as if he'd done it all his life.

**********

"Okay, guys," Brandon said to the assembled gang, then he glanced at Bert, sitting in loose-fitting jogging clothes to hide his changed body, "and girl." The others giggled a bit, and Bert's cheeks reddened. "I'm getting a plan to get back at those Alpha bastards. So here's what we've got to do. First, we have to confirm that it's the water. And then?" He turned to Fred, who sat at one desk poring over his book.

Fred glanced at the book. "Then we have to find out if it's tied to one place, or if it can be transported."

Chuck looked quizzically at Fred. "Tied to one place?"

Fred nodded. "Sometimes, magic was reported to be tightly tied to a location. So we have to find out."

"By taking a sample of water out of the park and seeing if it still works, right?"

Fred grinned an acknowledgement. "Right."

Rob nodded his agreement. "I hope it isn't tied to the park. I think the entire Alpha frat knows about the magic, and I don't think there's any way we could ever get them to go in."

Brandon nodded. "I think you're right. So the first experiment is the most critical."

Bert decided it was time to interject a thought. "You guys said you were quite aroused after your change, right?" She waited for Rob and Brandon to confirm that.

Arnold scooted closer to Bert, putting an arm around her feminine shoulders. "Are you trying to give me a hint?" he said hopefully.

Bert gave Arnold a sharp elbow in the ribs, which doubled Arnold over. "Watch your hands," she said harshly. "It's still me inside here." She turned back to Brandon. "I'm not feeling any of the, uh, compulsion you said you had."

Brandon stared at Bert. "And your knockers are a lot smaller, too." He glanced back to Fred. "Well?"

Fred knew that all eyes were on him. "There are probably some aspects of the change that can be controlled, or at least specified."

Rob nodded his agreement. "Okay, Brandon. What's the plan?"

Brandon thought for a moment. "Here's what we have to do."

**********

It was Chuck's turn to change next — to get the sample of water for the experiment. She emerged as a statuesque woman in her mid-twenties -—attractive but not movie-star quality. And she carried the coveted wineskin full of water from the shower.

While Chuck was changing, Rob talked to the girl at the gate. She seemed nice — Vicky was her name, and she was a student at the university — and was more than helpful once Rob let on that he knew the secret and had been changed once himself. He offered to take her for ice cream after she got off work. To perhaps everyone's surprise, she accepted.

Back at the dorm, Fred stood among the guys — and Chuck — and poured some of the water into a glass. He steeled himself, gulped nervously, and then took a large swallow.

"Well?" Brandon asked anxiously almost as soon as Fred finished swallowing.

"Well what?" Fred responded as he set the glass down. "It took time for you, right?" The last word squeaked, emerging in a higher pitch. Fred glanced around, and saw the guys staring open-mouthed at him. "What?" His voice was definitely different; it sounded softer and much higher pitched.

Chuck had seen the changes take place on himself; now, as he watched Fred's body morphing, he stood transfixed by the process. Like water flowing, Fred's hair lengthened visibly, growing more full, lighter, and much longer in a slow steady process. At the same time, Fred's shirt started to get tight as mounds began to appear — tiny at first, but growing and swelling and becoming much more round. Almost imperceptibly, he began to shrink, growing shorter and shorter. Fred's hips widened a little; he was only sixteen, and the female equivalent wouldn't have as round a but nor as wide of hips as Chuck currently possessed. Still, the change was obvious. Like the narrowing of Fred's waist. Fingers, hands, arms, legs — they all changed smoothly and slowly as his flesh rearranged itself in response to the magic in the water. Even his clothing was caught up in the spell; his T-shirt flowed in a shimmering fluid motion until it was a halter top, gently cradling Fred's new perky breasts. His shorts got shorter, widening to accommodate his rounder butt, and flattening in front as his male organ vanished inside his body. Within three minutes, Fred was a girl, completely and totally.

"Wow!" Arnold said softly as he stared at the newly formed girl.

Brandon shook his head in disbelief. Even though he'd experienced it himself, he found it amazing to watch Fred transform. "Wow is right. Fred? How does it feel in there?"

Fred was staring open-mouthed at her body, her hands cupping the breasts she now had. "This is incredible!" she said in a soft high voice. "I wouldn't have believed it!"

Arnold got over his reverie at watching the change. "How about you?" he asked, hope springing eternal. "You want to try out that new bod?"

Fred shot him a look that nearly withered Arnold. Had he been a couple of steps closer, Arnold would have gotten a knee in his groin. "Not likely, slime." Fred snarled in a voice that, despite the intent, sounded surprisingly sexy.

**********

"Okay, what did you learn?"

Rob smiled. "She's a business major. She's working there to pay off a debt; apparently, she and a few friends sneaked in for a midnight swim, and then got caught."

Chuck smacked Rob's arm. "About the park, dummy!"

"Oh. Uh, you were right," he said to Fred. "You know, you're pretty cute as a girl," he said. Fred slapped his other arm. "Okay, okay. I get the message." He turned back to the group. "Most of the time, the old woman who runs the place just changes the guys into their female equivalent — the woman they'd have been if their DNA had a second X chromosome."

"Most of the time?"

Rob grinned. "She can control a lot. Age, hair color, body shape. Even the libido of the customer."

Brandon grinned. "So how does that part work?"

Rob shook his head. "I don't know."

"I guess we'll have to do a little more experimenting until we find out then."

Chuck glanced at Brandon. "So what's next? Turn someone into a busty slut?"

Brandon visibly winced. "We're going to have to try it."

**********

Arnold was the unfortunate one who drew the straw for the next experiment. Like a man under a death sentence, he walked slowly to the ticket booth. His cheeks crimson with embarrassment, he made a very specific request, and took the pass the girl gave him. Slowly, he trudged to the gate and went into the park.

A very short while later, a girl with unimaginably large boobs, covered by a T-shirt stretched to the breaking point, sauntered out of the gate. Her long platinum blond hair danced about her shoulders in time with the swaying of her wide hips. A clingy and very short skirt actually emphasized her hips, and drew a man's gaze to them like a magnet. Her waist, narrow as it was, accentuated the curves of her body, giving her a distinctly slutty appearance. She walked uneasily to the car and leaned over, resting her arms on the door. "Well, is this what you expected?" Her voice was high-pitched, almost bimboish.

Brandon glanced at Fred, then stared back into the deep cleavage of Arnold's new body. "Uh..." was all he could stammer.

Arnold opened the door and slid in beside Fred. "How about we get out of here?" she said softly.

Fred felt himself sweating as Arnold put her hand on his knee, then moved it seductively up to Fred's thigh. She glanced at Fred, and circled her tongue around her lips. Then she grasped Fred's head and pushed it into her huge cleavage. "You like this?" she asked softly. Meanwhile, her hand had roamed, and she grinned. "From what I've found, I'd say that you do."

Fred found himself on the horns of a dilemma. This was Arnold. And yet, it wasn't. Was it? Inside this sex-crazed bimbo, somewhere, was Arnold. And yet... He moaned softly as Arnold began to rub his firm manhood through his pants. Youthful hormones and desire overwhelmed any caution, and Fred grabbed at Arnold's huge tits with one hand while he plunged his other hand into her panties.

*********

"So, who wants to test the water?" Brandon asked quietly. Only five of the guys were gathered; Arnold was probably in her room masturbating again. Since she'd been changed, she'd done Fred, Bert, and two guys down the hall. And she'd been playing with herself almost non-stop. Naturally, there were no immediate volunteers for this crucial experiment. Not after they saw what it had done to Arnold.

Brandon sighed. "Okay, here's what we'll do." He took five paper cups and poured the water into one of them. Then he poured plain tap water into the other four. "Okay, all of you turn your backs. I'm going to mix up the glasses. Then we'll each, in turn, mix them up. Then we each drink one." The guys agreed, and they took turns mixing up the glasses, until at last, not one of them had any idea which was spiked. Each took a glass. Nervously, they held them. "Cheers," Bert said fatalistically, then poured the water down his throat. The others followed.

It only took a few seconds; Brandon was the unfortunate one who'd gotten the spiked water. To his dismay, he felt his boobs swelling to immense proportions, while his hair flowed into long wavy blond tresses. His butt grew, while his waist narrowed. More importantly, his T-shirt transformed into a very low-cut halter top which dangled above his naked navel, held away from his waist by the enormous breasts. His pants flowed into a very short skirt, clinging tightly to his wide hips and baring most of his long sexy legs.

"So how do you feel?" Chuck finally asked.

Brandon stared down at her body, then at Chuck. Then she practically leaped upon Chuck, grasping his face and kissing him desperately while rubbing her massive melons against his chest. She broke off the kiss, letting one hand drop to Chuck's crotch. "Oh, please," she said in a sultry voice, "I need you!" She attacked Chuck's belt with vigor, anxious to free his manhood to satisfy her overwhelming needs.

**********

Arnold checked his shopping list and headed into the plumbing aisle. Some of the things on the list were rather obscure, and he had to get help from the staff, but he finally managed to secure everything required.

Brandon and Bert sauntered through the computer store, pushing a shopping cart full of equipment. "Too bad the wireless bandwidth is so low. But I'm sure Chuck will overcome that little problem." Bert observed as they added another piece of gear to their cart.

Chuck sat hunched over a bench in the electrical engineering lab. Beside him, a hot soldering iron smoked, filling the air with the smell of hot rosin. He adjusted the magnifying lamp, and then reached for the iron yet again.

**********

Fred sighed heavily, taking a deep breath to steady his frazzled nerves. Rob sighed as well. "I know how you feel." As one, they glanced past the ticket booth to the entrance. "This should be the last trip."

Rob nodded slowly. "I know. But it's still weird."

Together, the guys purchased their passes, trying not to blush as the specified the specific changes they wanted to the ticket attendant. Then they walked into the park, stopping to swipe their tickets. "So how does this work, do you suppose?" Rob asked, trying to make small talk as they prepared for the enormous changes they were going to undergo.

Fred shrugged. "Probably the specifics are put on the pass, and when you go through the gate, it bonds them to you. Then the water does its thing." He stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind himself. "I'd guess if there's no specific pattern, it just does a simple gene change." His voice was getting higher through his explanation, even as he funneled some of the water off his upper body and into a collapsible jug. In the other booth, he knew that Rob was doing the same. Still...

The two left the showers almost simultaneously, carrying their jugs of water — and the enormous jugs on their chests. "I'm glad this is the last trip," Rob said with audible relief — even though his voice made him sound like a totally brainless bimbo.

"Yeah," Fred agreed. "And I'm so damned horny." She looked at Rob's luscious body, then moved closer. "Do you suppose...?"

Rob set her own jug down, and grabbed Fred's huge boob with one hand as she pulled Fred into a passionate kiss. "I can't wait either," she panted during a very brief break in the kiss.

**********

"Okay, are your watches synchronized?" Brandon glanced at his watch, then around the room. All the heads nodded their readiness. "Good. You know your jobs? Team 1?"

Rob nodded solemnly. "All set."

"Team 2?" Fred glanced at Bert, then gave a thumbs up. "Team 3?" Brandon looked at Chuck, who nodded. "We're set. Team 4?" In answer, Arnold grinned broadly. Brandon glanced at his watch again. "Okay, the show starts at zero two hundred."

**********

Rob hugged the telephone pole tightly as a patrol car cruised silently beneath him. Only when it was safely around the corner did he exhale. Then he leaned back against the support of the lineman's belt. His hand reached up and switched on the tiny flashlight affixed to his hat, and then he reached to his belt and retrieved a small screwdriver. Within seconds, the junction box was open, revealing its secrets to the world. Rob grinned. This was going quite well. He found the phone wires, pulled out a tester, then grinned as he began to rewire the circuits. Within minutes, he closed the junction box. Now he turned his attention to the small black box dangling from the junction box. Carefully, he taped it to the bottom of the junction box, taking care to make the new box as invisible as possible. Now, all he had to do was wait.

Team 2, Bert and Fred, dropped as quietly as possible into the inky blackness of the Alpha house attic. Like Rob, they had flashlights on their hats; they now switched them on. The wavering beams of light danced around the joists and beams of the attic. Bert shucked off his backpack and began rummaging through it. He found what he was looking for quickly. He handed the black box to Fred, who peered through the now-missing gable vent toward the alley. He smiled grimly, then took out some tools and fastened the box to a particular rafter. Next, he pulled another small box out and taped it to a joist. Bert, meanwhile, located an electrical junction box and removed its cover. He smiled to himself; though they were prepared for anything, the house was new enough to use wire nuts for connections. He quickly untwisted one of the wire nuts, added a slender wire to the bundle, and retied the nut. He repeated his action for the second wire. He glanced at Fred.

Arnold, the sole member of team 4, glanced over the scripts yet again. They had to be absolutely perfect. He worried at times like this; the slightest slip might trigger a firewall or intrusion detection software. He glanced again at a second monitor; it remained idle. It wasn't time for him — not yet.

Chuck tugged, towing the large tank of water through the crawl space. Overhead, he could hear the occasional footstep echoing on the floor. Still, it was late, and the chance of anyone detecting them was remote. Behind him, Brandon stopped and shone his flashlight on a paper, then around the beams. "Here," he hissed softly. "This is the kitchen."

Fred saw LEDs on the black boxes twinkle; the power was connected. Now for the rest of the job. "Okay, let's get the cameras." He pulled out a small auger and began to quietly bore into the sheetrock ceiling hung from the joists below him. He felt the auger carefully; when he felt the right change in resistance, Fred stopped. He withdrew the auger and took out tiny white ferrule. He slipped it down, feeling a tiny click as it popped through the paper face of the sheetrock below. Behind the ferrule, he mounted another tiny gizmo. Then he fed a fiber-optic bundle into the ferrule, and attached the other end to a tiny box which Bert had been wiring into the network hub they'd installed. Bert flipped a switch, and the tiny camera blinked a red LED. Fred nodded silently, and the duo moved on.

Rob watched, and saw the box spring to life, indicated by an LED blinking. He smiled and began to descend the utility pole.

Arnold saw an indicator flash on his second monitor. He turned his attention to the first monitor. His finger paused above the enter key, and after taking a deep breath, he pressed the key. Committed. Now it all depended on his script and his ability to direct the program now loosed into the computers in the Alpha house, and to link them to the waiting web site.

Chuck was sweating, and not from heat. The crawlspace was cool, but they were in constant danger of being discovered, and the heat of the blowtorch couldn't be avoided. He checked the last connection and turned the torch on the new joint. The copper absorbed the heat quickly, and soon, the tin solder flowed into the joint, sealing it against leaks. Satisfied, he twisted the valve and the flame snapped off. "Okay, give it a test." In answer, Brandon turned on a valve. Chuck examined the new joint carefully, watching for leaks. He found none. "Good enough. Let's get out of here."

Fred pulled the vent closed, then glanced through its slats. Satisfied that the LED was still blinking, he shinnied down the rope, paused to pull it free, and towed it away from the house and into the shrubs separating the Alpha property from the neighboring fraternity.

**********

The knock on the door awoke the Alpha men; after all, it was a Saturday, and they'd partied the night before. And they puzzled over the box the man left them; it had a return address from the national chapter. Dave rubbed his eyes and examined the letter. "I don't get it," he said over and over as he and the other Alphas examined the shipment of computer cameras. "But if national wants us to set up our computers with web cameras, I guess we do it." He examined one of the boxes carefully, and then dug out the contents, spilling the instructions on the floor. "Hey," he called irritably, "somebody get one of those computer geeks over here!"

**********

Around the campus, sounds of disbelief turned to ragged, then sustained cheering as e-mail messages were finally read. It was unbelievable; after all those years of being so snotty, the Alphas were going to hold an open party.

**********

"Okay, last time," Brandon said with a palpable sense of relief. "Only no bimbo settings." He turned back to the window and told the girl just what kind of passes the boys needed. It was still embarrassing, but it was now tolerable, given the plan that was rapidly coming to fruition.

**********

Dave was only slightly surprised when six very lovely girls showed up at the Alpha Sigma Sigma house on the night of the big party. Not only were they knockouts to look at, but they seemed a bit ditzy - perfect bimbos to help serve at the party. Their little sister sorority had promised to send some girls to help serve as hostesses; he just hadn't expected what he was now staring at. He smiled, stole one last glance down the cleavage of one, and invited them in to the house.

Brandon smiled to herself; as Brandy, she had the perfect cover to make sure the plan hatched well. Now, she was at the kitchen table, helping to mix the punch in an enormous punch bowl. Brandon glanced around, then reached under her skirt and retrieved a tiny remote. A quick button press caused the remote to display a flash of red.

Beneath the house, a wireless receiver got a specific signal. It responded by causing a surge of electricity to course through a solenoid, which opened a latching valve. A tiny trickle of water from Bikini Beach mixed in the cold water from the Alpha house plumbing.

Rob, passing herself off as Robbie, straightened up a pile of magazines, and smiled to herself as she spied the Playboy and Penthouse covers. She glanced around, then removed a tiny box from her skirt. She depressed a button, and was rewarded with a slow blinking light. She reached up and carefully placed the box atop a bookshelf, watching carefully to see where it was pointed. Then she smiled to herself and continued to help 'clean' the house for the expected guests.

**********

Guests were starting to arrive, and Dave was getting upset. Some of the other frats were coming; just where had they gotten the idea that they were welcome at this party? He stood, blocking the door, arguing with one of the Omegas, when one of the hostesses came up to him.

"I need a hand," Brandy whispered in his ear.

Dave glanced down, straight into her cleavage, and gulped. "I've got to watch the door," he said.

Brandy smiled and leaned up closer. "I really, really need some help. You see, I'm just getting so ... horny!" She struggled to sound as sexy and seductive as possible.

Dave felt his willy rising. He glanced at the guys standing on the porch, then back at the smiling blond with the huge tits. He turned to the guys on the porch. "You guys wait here. I'm going to ... um ... get something straightened out." He took Brandy's arm, and led her up the stairs.

As he opened his door, she batted her eyes at him. "Have you ever done it in the shower?" she said, licking her lips.

Dave needed no further urging. He turned and led her to the bathroom. Within seconds, he was stripped, and she was making a show of removing her clothing. With her panties on, and nothing else, she pushed him gently into the shower, following him and pulling the door shut. He turned on the water, then adjusted the shower head to spray both of them as he leaned into the kiss he was about to give the lovely girl.

Suddenly, Brandy started laughing. Dave straightened, and felt a bit disoriented. Something was wrong. He looked at the girl, and found himself staring straight into her eyes — somehow, he was shorter! And he saw long hair in his peripheral vision. He gasped, and Brandy laughed again.

In answer to his unspoken question, she pushed the shower door open and tugged Dave to the mirror. A gasp died in his throat as he saw — he was turning into a bimbo! A big-titted, blond-haired bimbo! Just like ... He started to curse. And then it hit him. The need. The uncontrollable, burning passion. He whimpered in a new, soft, sultry voice, his hands lifting to caress his large and still swelling tits.

Brandy smiled as she began to put her own clothes back on. "Don't worry, honey. There are plenty of men downstairs, just waiting to satisfy a girl like you."

**********

By ones and twos, the Alphas were led into their traps. Most of them had some punch, lured by the hostesses who just wanted someone to taste it to see if it was okay. A little flash of cleavage, a wiggle of a butt, and the guys were more than willing to help. A couple of the guys, like Dave, had to be lured into the shower to meet their doom. But within an hour, each and every Alpha was transformed into an incredibly horny, big-breasted blond nymphomaniac. As Brandy watched Dave struggling in a futile effort to pleasure herself, she finished adjusting her blouse, then reached into her skirt and pressed a button. Downstairs, hidden from view, a solenoid valve closed, and the water of Alpha house ran pure once more.

In the kitchen, Rob and Bert dumped the spiked punch, then hastily made a new batch from pure water, this one generously laced with alcohol from the Alphas' liquor cabinet. Then they joined the other four in the foyer. Brandon glanced at Rob, who glanced in turn around the whimpering bimbos. They nodded to each other and opened the door, letting all the other fraternity guys into the Alpha house for a party they would never forget.

**********

Back in Nerd Hall, Arnold sat down in front of her computer and typed in a few commands. For the next few hours, all the webcams and cameras they'd installed in the Alpha house would be viewed quite heavily. The hit counter started to rise, slowly at first, then with increasing speed as the site and its raw sexual content were discovered around the world. Arnold glanced at one of the windows; Dave, now a big-titted ultra nympho, was getting dorked by one guy while her head bobbed in the lap of another. Arnold checked again, and and smiled as she confirmed that the recorders were all running smoothly.

She wandered back to Brandon's room, grinning all the way and surprising some of the male residents who didn't expect to see such girls in this dorm. Inside, she gave a thumbs up.

"Cameras all working?"

Arnold smiled. "And the recorders." She nudged Fred. "That was a great idea to get them to install the webcams for us."

Fred grinned and shrugged. "Might as well let them do the dirty work." She took a sip of soda. "Between the fixed cameras, the web cams, and the portables, we've got just about every room in the house covered."

"And the ceiling cameras?"

Fred shrugged again. "We've got about as much directional control as I wanted. I wish the cameras had zoom, though. Still, they're getting great pictures."

Arnold couldn't help smiling. "Not only do we have good live video, but we're getting some great still pictures, too. And it's all on tape." He reached over and pressed a key, which opened a new window on the monitor. Displayed in very good resolution and full color was an image from one of the cameras. In this case, it happened to have some rather steamy group action. Arnold pressed another key, and the printer in the corner started to hum. "Presto — instant entertainment."

"But how long will the cameras stay hidden?" Bert asked, concerned about the ramifications when their little toys were discovered.

Chuck shrugged, ignoring the sensation of her boobs bouncing with the motion. After all that they'd done to get ready for this night, it might have been that she was getting used to it. It could also have been that she was savoring the moment too much to pay attention to a little thing like bouncing boobs. "Well, we know they're going to find the portables. Not that it'll do them any good; I doubt anyone in _that_ frat is smart enough to realize they're wireless, let alone search for the relay."

Fred smiled. "But they'll never find the fixed cameras. With the fiber-optics, the holes are so small that I'd be surprised if they find them before the house is torn down."

Chuck couldn't help grinning. "And the proceeds from the Alpha's little sex show are going to a good cause. The city shelter for abused women needs the help. Thanks to Arnold, the shelter won't be able to trace the contributions back to the porn site. Somehow, I think if they knew how they got the money, they wouldn't want it." She held up her hand, and got high fives all around. Then she got a silly grin on her face. "I guess the Alpha Sigma Sigma house is more like the Piece of ASS house tonight." The bad pun brought groans from the assembled girls.

Rob grinned without taking his eyes from the monitor. "It's worth having to be in these bodies for another few hours, just so we can watch the Alphas."

Arnold got a far-off look for a moment. "What's the range on the transmitter for the valve?"

Chuck's eyes widened, then she grinned, instantly realizing what Arnold was thinking. "I can always put a power amp on it if needed. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

Arnold grinned. "As long as there's some water left in the injector tank..."

The rest of the gang started laughing. "Whenever we want, we can change an Alpha or two into some nightly entertainment."

After the laughter died down, Brandon sat back, taking a big sip of her cola. "Guys ... er, girls, we've done it." She hoisted her cola. "Here's to revenge." She turned back to the monitor, smiling as she saw another of the Alphas begging for attention from one of the visiting frat boys.

**********

The old woman sauntered back into the office, her face looking a little more tanned. Anya turned her head from the books and smiled. "So how was the trade show?" she asked.

The old woman smiled. "Good show this year. And how were things around here?"

Anya gulped, and knew that her grandmother had sensed her hesitation. "Not a lot, really."

The old woman looked surprised. "Oh? Not even the guys using the water from the park to get revenge on the Alpha fraternity?"

Anya gulped again. "Well, yeah. That happened."

The old woman looked impassive. "And you didn't detect it?" Anya looked down; she'd been caught. "Actually, you did. And you let it happen anyway, right?"

Anya nodded slowly. "Those guys have been using the park for their nefarious deeds for quite a while now. I just thought it was time for someone to get a bit of revenge on them."

The old woman smiled. "So did I. And you know that the nerds are giving the money to a good charity. So I guess, all's well in the end."

FIN

The boys in the gym-dorm need to find better housing. They come up with an ingenious plan — if they can convince people to let them have a go at it.

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Bertie leaned forward in his chair, his elbow resting on his knee, and his chin in his hand. Like a hawk studying its prey, he stared intently at the chessboard. From the layout of the pieces, it was getting late in the game, and it was still pretty even. Across the table, Brandon, one of his two roommates, reclined lazily in his chair. He seemed to be unaware of the game, even though he had fought Bert to this standoff. "Well, are you going to move?" Brandon asked easily. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the other guys in the room and gave them a grin.

Bert looked up briefly, through a dark scowl. "Yes, yes. Don't become impatient now." His words echoed with the sound of his British upbringing, an oddity in this dorm room.

Robert, the third roommate, grabbed a handful of chips from a large bowl. "Any of you guys have a date last night?"

All four young men in the room turned on him, their faces expressing their displeasure. Besides Bert and Brandon, their friends Chuck and Arnold were in the room, relaxing on a late Saturday morning. All five of them were nerds; in fact, all the residents of their dorm were considered nerds. Because of dorm overcrowding, they'd been put in a makeshift dorm, constructed in the dilapidated old gymnasium. It had been slated for demolition, but the housing needs gave it a reprieve, and the interior was fitted with 'temporary' rooms, rather like office cubicles but with a smidgeon more privacy. There were now forty men remaining in the gym, and with as much space as it had, it was really quite comfortable. But it was informally known on campus as "Nerd Hall", and one of the fraternities had spray-painted that label on the outside.

Arnold snorted his disgust at Robert's question. "Are you kidding?" he snapped. "The only time we get any dates is after we go to..."

Chuck's hand clamped over Arnold's mouth. "Quiet," he hissed. The unspoken words were the secret of these five men. He glanced at the closed door; even in a private room, the secret was not to be discussed too openly.

Robert sighed, and then he nodded slowly. "That's what I thought," he said solemnly.

Arnold pried Chuck's hand off his mouth. "So why'd you bring it up?" he muttered. "To remind us we're all nerds?"

Rob shook his head. "Nope." He looked thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment. "Any of you guys catch the frat parties last night?"

Brandon turned toward his best friend; the first question had been annoying, but this one was getting insulting. "No, and you know that, too. They're by invitation only — to girls." He glanced around the room and saw the nods of agreement.

Rob smiled enigmatically. "Yes, I know." He munched a chip, then leaned back. "But I went."

Brandon's eyes narrowed. "But they're for..." His eyes widened suddenly.

"Bikini Beach," Chuck said in a hushed voice.

"You didn't," Bert said hopefully, eyeing Rob cautiously.

Rob grinned. "I did."

"And?" Chuck's curiosity was piqued. He spoke for all. And the unspoken question was what had happened. The fraternities had a reputation for wooing the ladies — and if necessary, getting them totally smashed so they could take advantage of them.

Rob glared at Chuck for a millisecond. "And nothing." He knew what Chuck was asking. "They tried, and they failed."

Bert looked up from the chessboard. "So why didn't you tell me? I would have enjoyed the party."

Rob grinned sideways at Chuck. "Every time you change into a girl, you pick something really sexy, and with that accent, you're a magnet for every guy within miles." He laughed. "I was busy enough keeping paws off me to have time to defend your honor, too." He turned back toward Brandon. "You know why those guys have parties like that?"

Brandon stared at Rob for a second, then he started to smile. "Because they're a fraternity, and they have a fraternity house."

"So?" Arnold glanced between the two, not having caught on.

Chuck had, though. "So, kid, if we were to get chartered as a fraternity, then we could have our own house, and we could host our own parties." He enjoyed emphasizing to Arnold that he was the old man of the group; unlike the others, Chuck had served a hitch in the Navy prior to coming to college. Chuck turned to Rob. "So you got any idea how we do that, hotshot? Or should I say, hot pants?" He gave Brandon a sideways grinning glance and elbowed him in the ribs, chuckling over his reference to Rob's recent status.

Rob ignored the jibe. "At least I got free drinks last night."

Bert looked thoughtful for a moment. "I thought I was dreaming that I heard a girl moaning in passion. I guess I was wrong." He glanced at Rob, deadpan. "You really need to learn to control your moaning when you pleasure yourself, dear chap." He looked back at the chessboard, ignoring the scowl from Rob. Chuck and Arnold laughed aloud, and Brandon tried to keep still, only to giggle uncontrollably.

Rob waited, red-faced, until they were mostly done laughing. "Are you through?" He waited until Brandon calmed himself and nodded.

"Okay," Brandon said, wiping a tear from his eye. "So how do we get to be a fraternity?"

"It's a two-step process. This university doesn't charter local fraternities — only chapters of national frats. So we need to get a national sponsor."

Chuck looked thoughtful for a moment. "Okay, so there are what — hundreds of fraternities? That shouldn't be too much of a problem. What else?"

Rob grimaced. "We have to get a house. The university requires a fraternity house for all charters."

Arnold shrugged. "That shouldn't be tough. There are lots of houses on the market around here. We should be able to find something to suit us."

Rob shook his head. "No good. They require that we have a house on-campus."

**********

Dean Howard Livingstone sat imperiously in his chair, staring across the vast desk at the nerds with obvious disdain. "You want to do what?" he asked, as if a second hearing would confirm the absurd request.

Brandon glanced nervously at Rob, then he swallowed. "We'd like to apply to form a fraternity," he said meekly.

Dean Livingstone stared at the boys for a long time. He was enjoying himself as he watched them squirm. His commanding presence, in this throne of his power, intimidated them. Finally, he opened his mouth. "Are you aware that there are two requirements for the formation of a new fraternity?" he asked impatiently.

Rob swallowed nervously. "Yes, sir," he answered in a squeaky voice. "A national sponsor and a house."

Dean Livingstone glared at Rob, which made him swallow and cower in his chair. "I see you've done your homework." He sat back, steepling his fingers and staring at the boys for several long awkward seconds. "There aren't any available houses," he finally announced.

Brandon glanced at Rob, then mustered his courage. "Yes, sir, we know. And we also know that we could build a house if property on campus were available." He glanced at Rob again to reassure himself. "The vacant lot between the tennis courts and..."

Dean Livingstone snapped forward, his elbows banging noisily on the desk. "That lot is the site of the new recreation center," he said in a booming, impatient voice. "For our fraternities and sororities," he added cruelly. He leaned back again. "So you see, boys, there really isn't any way you can get a house. Or a fraternity." He spun his chair away from the desk, rudely dismissing the boys.

**********

"Why not?" Chuck was addressing the entire gathering of 'nerds' in the gym, assembled to hear the news. Despite the conspiracy of silence among the five ringleaders, word of the plan had leaked, and had been the subject of endless whisperings and low conversations. After the rude dismissal from the Dean's office, they'd had to convene the group to break the bad news.

Brandon wrinkled his nose. "It just wouldn't work..." he began. He was trying to figure out how to phrase his objections, and he glanced at Rob, his best friend, for reinforcement. He was disappointed; Rob sat impassively, his mind obviously racing as he considered what Chuck had proposed. He glanced around the room, and saw the guys murmuring, discussing Chuck's outlandish idea. Finally, he turned back. "Okay, let's hear some more details." As if by magic, the low private conversations died, leaving a stunning silence in the room.

Chuck smiled. "Okay, let's lay out the facts. First, to be a fraternity, we need a house. Second, it has to be on campus. Third, the only suitable site on campus is reserved for a recreation facility. Fourth, we are in a temporary dorm that used to be a gym, and is slated — someday — for demolition."

A squeaky voice piped up from the back of the crowd. "Why don't we just have them demolish the gym and build a house here?"

Chuck started to answer, but Rob interrupted him. "Because it would leave the administration with a housing shortage. They're legally obligated to provide housing for us, but during the demolition and construction, there wouldn't be enough housing. We'd be on the streets, and they'd be liable."

Brandon glanced at Rob, and realized that his position was suddenly untenable. If Rob was behind this idea, it was only because he'd been convinced by the facts. Brandon considered the data. Was it possible? He quickly sorted the facts, and came to the startling conclusion that it was not only possible, but might be the preferable option. "I think we ought to go for it," he said with an air of finality.

Rob glanced at his roomie and smiled. "Look, this building has a lot going for it. To start with, it's here. It has all the facilities we'd need, and more. The office side would make good rooms. The gym would make a really nice hall. The concession area is big enough to be a kitchen. There's enough room to make a good computer lab. And the west wing has a pool." He grinned toward Brandon. "Can you imagine the girls that would show up for a pool party?"

Brandon nodded enthusiastically. "This could be the best house on campus!"

Arnold started to smile, but a frown crept over his features. "But if this place is supposed to be torn down, then there must be some problems. We're going to have to deal with those." He held up his fingers. "First," he said, closing one finger, "the plumbing is in bad shape. Any one who's tried to take a hot shower can tell you that. Second," he closed another, "The roof has some pretty serious leaks. Third," another finger, "unless you're deaf, you know that the heating system is squeaking and rattling. Fourth," he started to close another finger.

Chuck held up his hand to cut off Arnold. "Okay, so there are some problems. We don't know the extent of them." Chuck smiled grimly. "So what we need to do is to get the engineering report on the building to see what problems we'd have to deal with."

Bert felt his heart sink. "And if we ask for it, they'll know we're planning something. Remember, chaps, that the Dean was not very polite to us."

Murmured conversations erupted, low-volume whispers of acknowledgment and disappointment. Brandon felt the power as the group's mood changed instantly from cheer to hopelessness. The visit with Dean Livingstone had left a dark impression on him, and now it seemed that Bert was right.

Rob smiled, and one by one, the others in the room noticed his ray of hope in their sea of depression. One by one, the boys fell silent, wondering what Rob had up his sleeve. Finally, Brandon noticed and turned to see Rob's enigmatic smile. His brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"Okay, that's true. So here's what we're going to do." The crowd moved closer, and Rob began to outline his plan.

**********

Rob walked nervously toward the ticket booth with one of the other guys from the gym in tow. The guy, a nerdish looking lad of eighteen, was nervous. "So how are we going to get the blueprints and reports?" he asked for perhaps the hundredth time. "What does this place have to do with our job?"

Rob smiled to himself. "Patience, Tim, patience. You'll understand soon enough." He stepped to the window.

"Hi, Rob," a nice-looking brunette called down from the window. "Haven't seen you for a while." She was smiling pleasantly at the two boys.

Rob smiled. "Hi, Anya. This is my friend Tim."

Anya smiled pleasantly. "Hi, Tim. Welcome to Bikini Beach." She turned back to Rob. "So what'll it be today? The usual?" She glanced at Tim and sensed his nervousness. Then she sensed something from Rob. "Ah, I see." She smiled enigmatically. "It's a good plan. How can we help?"

Rob's jaw started to drop. "How...?" Then he nodded slowly. "Magic." He chuckled to himself as he shook his head. "I keep forgetting you can do that."

"What?" Tim asked, confused. He hadn't known about Bikini Beach, or Anya's magic, and now he was getting a lesson. He was understandably puzzled.

Rob smiled meekly. "We've got to try to get some documents, and we need some cover."

"Hmm," Anya mumbled, staring into the distance. "You know, it should work." She turned back to Rob. "So do you want the usual?"

Rob blushed, then shook his head. "No, we need something a little more...curvy. Eye candy, if you know what I mean."

Anya laughed softly. "I think I know just what you want." She took Rob's money and handed him a pair of tickets. "This should do the trick." Rob turned, guiding the confused Tim by the arm. "Oh, Rob," Anya called after him, "Grandmother asked me to tell you that she was impressed by how you guys handled the Alphas."

As Rob walked toward the turnstile with Tim at his heels, it was his turn to be confused. How had Anya and her grandmother known about their revenge on the Alpha Sigma Sigma fraternity? They hadn't told anyone.

**********

Chuck, being the oldest and a veteran, led the delegation. Brandon and another kid rounded out the group. Without a word among them, they strode deliberately toward the physical plant, the heart of the campus' facilities management. Chuck paused at the door, glanced across a street, and nodded. Then the group marched into the office. Chuck walked to the secretary and paused, waiting for her to look up. When she did, her expression changed from mild annoyance at being disturbed to outright disdain. "Yes," she asked, making no effort to mask her feelings toward the nerds.

Chuck didn't let the young woman's attitude faze him. "We have an appointment with the director," he answered evenly. He smiled pleasantly at the young lady; she was a modestly attractive girl of perhaps twenty, and Chuck contemplated the odds of getting her to go out with him. He didn't like the result; she was a work-study student, and probably belonged to one of the 'in' sororities.

The girl looked at them and then she pressed an intercom button and announced them. Moments later, the director emerged from his tiny office to greet them. "I understand you have some problems," he said, skipping the formalities.

Chuck glanced at his compatriots, then back at the director. The guy was one of them; he was an engineer by training, Chuck decided. He might be willing to help — but then Chuck decided against the direct approach. No sense taking any chances. "Yes," Chuck answered after a momentary pause. "We have some problems with the plumbing in the showers, and the HVAC system isn't cooling very well."

As he sat down behind his desk, the director frowned. "Well, it's an old building, and it isn't supposed to be a dorm." His excuse was lame, he knew it, and he didn't expect the boys to believe it. But it was the answer he'd been directed to give to any complaints about the gym. "So what do you need?"

Chuck nodded, noting the unease in the director's eyes. "Well, I was thinking that if we could trace the plumbing, we could maybe isolate where the problems were and avoid using those areas. It's not ideal, but at least it would give us something that worked."

The director's eyes narrowed; despite outward appearances, this young man was sharp. "That sounds like..."

Chuck smiled sheepishly. "...Navy damage control. Yes sir, I spent four years as a soundman on a boomer." He referred to the Navy term for a missile submarine.

The director's eyes lit up. "I did a tour as an engineering officer," he said proudly, having found a connection. "Aboard a destroyer."

Chuck grinned. "Skimmer," he said wistfully, referring again to a Navy term, this time for surface ships. "We had a word for your type of vessel."

The director knew the joke. "Targets," he answered with a smile. Then he glanced at the other two young men. "Okay, so you want to see if you can isolate the problems, right?"

Chuck smiled. The Navy connection had been unexpected, and could really be helpful. "Yeah. Do you think we can have a look at the plans and reports?"

The director thought for a brief second. "Normally this is against policy, but I don't think it would hurt. Especially if it helps fix some problems and lightens _our_ workload." He rose and walked toward the back of the building, followed closely by Chuck and the others.

As they walked through the outer office, Chuck noticed two very well endowed girls talking to the secretary. Their short skirts didn't do much to conceal their shapely legs, and both wore low-cut blouses. Their more-than-ample bosoms threatened to spill out of the necklines, displaying more than a little cleavage. Chuck gave the girls a quick wink, and one of them nodded in return. The other, though, seemed more than a bit disoriented. Chuck laughed to himself as they went into the back room.

Chaos. That's what they were led into. Organized chaos. The 'back room' was a large open room full of desks, drafting tables, and row upon row of file cabinets. It was the brain of the physical plant, the drafting and planning and archive room, all rolled into one. Here, plans were made, drawings created, construction supervised, and all the paperwork saved for future use. A few engineers and draftsmen darted about, scanning drawings, making notes, and generally milling about the room. Chuck swallowed; this was going to be tricky. It was all going to depend on timing.

The director led them to a mostly empty drafting table, then started to collect diagrams and drawings. Chuck and the director were deeply engrossed in a discussion over the plumbing when the receptionist led the two girls back.

The sound in the room came to a halt. The men stopped mid-stride. All heads snapped to stare at the two girls who entered the room and were led to the director.

The director slowly straightened, then tore his gaze away from the bounteous cleavage in front of himself. "Can I help you?" he asked, his voice squeaking.

One girl giggled, and the other one smiled very pleasantly. "Yeah. Like we're in the architecture department, and, like, the teacher said we're supposed to get some drawings of our house, you know?"

The other girl giggled again. "We're in the Delta house, you know, and we'd like to see if you could show us some of the blueprints and stuff?" The two sounded completely like bimbos, suited to their general appearance.

The men leaned forward anxiously, waiting a cue to help out. The Delta house was not only populated by bombshells like these two, but it had a reputation of being very friendly. The director finally nodded. "I guess we can help you girls out," he said with a smile. He let his gaze drift down to the cleavage again. Around him, the room erupted in bedlam. Every man present, from the youngest engineer to the crustiest old codger, tripped over each other in a rush to retrieve documents to help out these two girls. Coincidently, they would get an eyeful of impressive cleavage or a close-up of a shapely derriere. Documents were hastily retrieved as the men fought to curry the favor of the two sexy girls. An imposing pile of documents hastily grew on the table as print after print appeared.

One of the girls leaned over the table, staring at one of the blueprints. Every eye in the room tracked the cleavage as her huge knockers dangled down, emphasizing even more her bountiful bosom which threatened to spring forth from her meager blouse. And as the other one leaned forward as well, her well-rounded ass bumped another table, spilling documents, pencils, and coffee all over the floor. "Oh, like I'm so sorry," she apologized hastily as she bent forward even more to gather the papers from the floor. If she had deliberately bent to reveal her panties and shapely bottom, she couldn't have done it better; she seemed to be making absolutely no effort to conceal her body or undies from the room of lustful men.

All eyes tracked her butt as she bent forward, and a few guys scrambled to the floor to help the poor girl. The director himself tripped over his own tongue as he apologized to the girls, as if he had been the cause of the mess.

Chuck just watched the show, a combination of comedy and sex, and shook his head. After watching the chaos for a few minutes, Chuck tapped the director on the shoulder. "I think I know where we start. Thanks."

The director stared at him for a moment, then glanced at the girl bent over the table. "Oh, yeah. No problem." He dismissed Chuck and the others from his mind, concentrating instead on the lovely round ass of the girl at the table, his mind full of naughty thoughts of what he'd like to do. He didn't even notice Chuck and the two others leave the office.

**********

All eyes were riveted on Chuck as the trio entered the gym. "Well?" Bert finally asked, the question that had been on everyone's mind.

Chuck glanced at Brandon and grinned wickedly. He pulled his shirt up and retrieved a large folded up wad of papers from his waist. Slowly, he unfolded the papers, displaying the blueprints and reports. Brandon and the other kid did the same. By the time they finished sorting, they had nearly every document the physical plant had about the old gym, including engineering reports, blueprints, wiring and plumbing diagrams, and even the cost projections for refurbishing and demolishing the structure.

"Bingo," Arnold said with a grin as he looked at the huge wad of papers. Just then, the doors opened again, and a pair of girls strode in. One walked confidently, while the other acted nervous. Both were dressed in skimpy outfits that revealed all their curves, especially their ample bosoms. They were the two girls from the physical plant.

Chuck walked over to the girls. His face was unreadable at first, but then a huge grin broke out. "Beautiful," he boomed, grasping the hand of the first girl.

The second girl was getting more nervous, startled by all the guys gawking at her. She retreated behind her partner, fear on her face.

One of the guys tapped Chuck on the shoulder. "Who are these girls?" he asked, not sure why Chuck was acting like he was, nor why two gorgeous girls were in the nerd dorm.

Chuck turned, beaming. "Guys, we told you we'd have some, uh, distractions, right?" The guys nodded, not understanding, confused by the knowing looks on Bert, Brandon, Chuck, and Arnold's faces. "Well, these two were our distraction." He beamed at Arnold. "You should have seen it. They were perfect! No one saw us take the prints — they were staring at our accomplices."

The first girl stepped forward, half bowing, smiling. "No problem at all, Chuck."

The second girl stood awkwardly, however, a pout on her face. "Big problem, Rob," she said in a sexy contralto voice. "We're still girls! And I don't like it!"

The first girl sighed. "Remember it's only until the middle of the night, Tim," she said, sounding like she'd repeated that phrase dozens of times. "It's not permanent."

The murmurs were getting loud; Brandon turned to the guys and caught their confused stares. He lowered his head slightly, laughing to himself, understanding the perplexed stares. After a moment, he looked up. "Okay, guys," he said with a smile. "I guess it's time to let you in on a little secret." He put an arm around Rob's very feminine shoulder and the other around Tim's. "These two girls are really Tim and Rob."

"No way!" was the loud reaction. Other voices joined the protest. "Come on! Quit kidding!" "Bullshit!"

Brandon waited for a moment, and then he held up his hands, gesturing for silence. "Rob?"

Rob smiled, a pretty white-toothed smile on a pretty face. "True, guys. It's really me." He twirled to display the shapely body and gestured to his assistant. "And this is really Tim."

"Yeah, right!" Another round of disbelief.

Rob shook her head, causing cascades of platinum blond hair to swirl about her face. "You guys ever heard of a place called Bikini Beach?" A few had, and so indicated. "Well, it's a haven for girls. And the way they do it is by magically changing guys into girls."

More sounds of disbelief, louder than before, echoed. After all, these guys were nerds, scientifically and mathematically, and the concept of magic was not exactly something they could easily accept.

Brandon knew what he had to do. "Okay, if you don't believe us, maybe a demonstration is in order." He dashed to his room and retrieved a squirt bottle, leaving a muttering crowd wondering what he was up to. In seconds, Brandon was back. "How about a volunteer?"

One of the most vocal dissenters, a loudmouth named Larry, was roughly pushed forward. "Okay, I'll let you squirt me," he grumbled. "And then we can stop this bullshit magic talk."

Brandon glanced at Rob, shrugged through his smile, and began to spritz Larry. Within seconds, gasps of astonishment echoed through the crowd. Like flowing water, cascades of hair spilled off Larry's head, growing longer and lighter with each second. Larry noticed the hair, and he swatted at it, and then he paused, his mouth open in shock, as he spied his hands. Not only were they finer, but they were continuing to reshape, getting more feminine even as the nails grew and took on the red hue of fresh nail enamel.

"Holy shit!" "Wow!" "What the hell?" "Is this for real?" The voices of disbelief changed instantly to shock and wonder as the guys watched one of their own transforming into a woman.

Larry's hands shot to his chest as he felt a swelling; his delicate hands cupped foreign and strange objects on his chest. "What's happening to me?" he wailed, surprising himself as he heard his voice changing, becoming higher in pitch and softer. And while he spoke, his clothes joined in the transformation; his T-shirt changed into a crop-top scoop-necked blouse, while his pants rapidly shortened, exposing smooth curvy female legs as they became very short shorts. Ratty old tennis shoes morphed into high-heeled pumps.

"Wow!" "Larry, you've got tits!" "This is incredible!"

Larry glanced down at his still-swelling chest, and then looked up at Brandon in horror. "I'm turning into a girl!" he cried.

Brandon shrugged. "I told you." He glanced around the room. "Now you guys believe me?" Brandon glanced at Rob, smiling. Then he saw Rob's eyes widening. He glanced back at Larry. "Oh, shit!" He glanced at the bottle and winced.

Rob looked at the bottle again. "Tell me that isn't the same stuff we used on the Alphas," he said in a soft voice.

Brandon grimaced. "I'm afraid it is."

Rob turned back toward Larry, worry clouding her features. "That's what I was afraid of."

A hush had dropped over the onlookers. All eyes were riveted on Larry, who seemed to be oblivious of the crowd. Larry had pulled off his blouse, and was eagerly cupping one breast, delicate fingers playing with an erect nipple, while the other hand had slipped down into his shorts. His soft feminine eyes were half closed as he publicly played with his new sex, totally self-absorbed in an overpowering lust. Larry was unaware that he was putting on a strip and sex show to a dorm full of guys, nerds who normally never saw such things.

Rob glanced at Tim, whose eyes were fearful. Tim leaned closer. "Is this going to happen to me?"

Rob shook her head. "No. I had Anya tone your libido way down, so you should be okay." Tim's countenance lightened considerably, as if reprieved from a death sentence.

**********

It was late when Chuck convened the entire dorm. Rob and Tim, still transformed, sat quietly; Rob had wrapped his sexy body in a robe to conceal it. Tim, a first-time changee, hadn't thought of that, and so he sat self-consciously, glancing around often to see if anyone was staring at him, which, of course, they were.

"Okay, guys," Chuck said finally. He and Brandon sat at a table, the large pile of pilfered papers and drawings in front of them. "We've gone over this stuff, and it looks feasible." His talk was interrupted by loud moans of female pleasure.

Brandon sighed heavily. "Could one of you guys go tell Larry to shut up?" The noise was very distracting. Three guys sprang to their feet and scrambled toward Larry's room. The noise stopped almost instantly, but none of the guys came back.

Chuck stared after the guys and shook his head slowly. The entire afternoon had been like that. Larry had become an insatiable nymphomaniac, and some of these guys had gotten their first experience at sex with the sex-crazed bimbo. He'd have to remember to get rid of that squirt bottle before it caused more problems.

"Okay, here's where we stand. The building was supposed to be razed, but the administration hadn't decided what to put here. Most likely, it was going to be a vacant lot." He picked up his PDA and peered at it for a moment. "Here's the rundown. Structurally, the building is in very good shape. The roof needs to be replaced, but that's normal wear, not because of a major problem. The plumbing is old and needs to be reworked. Electrical — it's in good shape. The pool needs to be replastered, and the tile in the showers and rest rooms needs to be replaced. The ductwork is in pretty bad shape; it probably needs to be completely reworked. The air conditioner is shot, and the furnace is in bad shape. It's a coal burner, and needs to be replaced." He examined the data more closely. "The floor tiling is all asbestos-based, and needs to be removed and cleaned up." He looked up from the PDA. "But on the bright side, if there wasn't a new gym, the physical plant report says that it would be cost-effective to rehabilitate this building."

Brandon nodded with a smile. "Our architects here," he pointed to Tim and Rob, still girls, "have done an estimate of what customizing we'd have to do. We also checked to see what value the administration is carrying on the building. It's old, so it's mostly depreciated. Factoring all that in," he took Chuck's PDA and fiddled with it a bit, "it turns out to be pretty cost competitive to lease the building and convert it." Cheers erupted around the room. This was going well.

Brandon finally held up his hands to quiet the room. "Okay, so we've maybe found a house. Maybe. We've got to convince the administration to sell or lease it to us, and then get a loan."

Rob smiled grimly. "And then we have to get a national fraternity to sponsor us."

Bert stood and stepped forward. "I've got some news to report on that issue." He pulled out his own PDA and selected a data page. "Two fraternities have responded positively. Well," he winced, "they weren't outright rejections." He looked again. "One is the Chi Omega fraternity. They were founded as a social fraternity. The membership seems to be mostly jocks." Boos and catcalls greeted that last piece of news. "The other is the Nu Rho Delta fraternity. They're a new professional fraternity, with a focus on sciences." His report spurred a chorus of pleasantly surprised comments, and he waited like a trained thespian for the crowd to settle down. He smiled, tucked away his PDA, and took his seat.

Brandon rose. "Okay, it sounds like we're all in agreement? We'll talk to the Nu Rho Delta fraternity and apply for membership?" A scream of pure feminine pleasure interrupted the cheers of acceptance, giving rise to laughter among the guys. Laughter, and some wistful looks as they wondered whether Larry would be a sexual plaything long enough for them to get another turn.

**********

Equipped with acceptance from the Nu Rho Delta fraternity, the gang sat at a table before a special meeting of the intra-fraternity council. Due to the special nature of the proposal, several administrators and part of the faculty council were also present. Brandon, by acclamation, was selected to make the presentation, and he now stood, holding a remote control. He was about halfway into the presentation, having already outlined their acceptance by the Nu Rho Deltas. Now, he was explaining the plans to refurbish the old gym into a fraternity house. He was in the middle of a computer-generated graphical walkthrough of the design, showing how the office space would become rooms.

Chuck saw a movement from the corner of his eye, and he turned in time to see the athletic director lean toward Dean Livingstone. It was well known that the athletic director, Coach Varney, was the advisor to the Alpha fraternity. Chuck swallowed. This could mean trouble.

It came. The dean rose and interrupted. "Yes, well, I think we've seen enough here," he pronounced. "And it was a fine presentation. But unfortunately, I don't see how it fits the needs of the university at this time. Thank you." He sat and turned to one of the faculty members, dismissing Brandon rudely as he began another conversation.

Chuck rose. "Excuse me, Dean. You haven't even seen the financial projections, let alone how this will financially benefit..."

Coach Varney rose, his face flushing crimson. "The Dean said that was enough, you little shit! Can't you hear?" He was leaning forward, his clenched fists resting lightly on the table threateningly.

The meeting started to break up at the Dean's announcement. Small groups of fraternity and sorority representatives began to leave; a few of the groups actually looked sympathetically toward the gym nerds, but most sneered with a distinctive snobbish attitude. Brandon just slumped in his chair and began to pack up his laptop computer. He felt as if the wind had been taken from his sails; their big chance to sell this idea had been snatched from them. But why? That part didn't make any sense.

Chuck nudged Brandon. "Something's fishy here," he whispered, nodding toward the dean's table.

Brandon glanced and saw the dean and the athletic director. "I knew the dean didn't like us, but what's up with the AD?"

Chuck frowned. "He's the advisor to the Alphas," he hissed. "So that makes two enemies."

Brandon nodded. "And it looks like they pretty much control this council." He sighed. "So what are we...?" He stopped, and his eyes narrowed. He nudged Chuck. "On the floor."

Chuck followed Brandon's gaze. His eyes widened, and then a devious smile crept across his face. "Looks like one of Arnold's toys." A tiny, silver, robotic spider crept slowly across the floor, stopping at the dean's leg. It flexed and resumed its travel up the leg of the dean's trousers, too small and light to be noticed by the dean. The two young men sat at the table for a long while, watching to see what happened. Then the spider crept back into view. Still, it kept moving, this time toward the AD's foot. Once more, it made a journey upward, and then crawled back to the floor.

A few moments later, Arnold came to the table. "Let's go," he said insistently to Chuck and Brandon. The trio quickly left the council room.

In the hall, Chuck stopped Arnold. "What was that about?"

Arnold pulled a hand from his pocket, the tiny silver spider in his palm. "Fido planted bugs on the dean and the coach." He pulled out another tiny gizmo, a radio receiver with a digital recorder. "Let's get back to the dorm so we can see what they're up to."

**********

"Are you sure about this?" Brandon's voice betrayed his concern. Not only was this mission dangerous, but it would be personally humiliating as well.

Rob straightened, making his large boobs jiggle. Blushing, he clasped them to stop the swaying, and then looked up. He smiled. "Yeah, but I want combat pay." Rob's form was that of a very voluptuous blond bombshell, even curvier than the disguise he'd had for the physical plant caper. "Look, you heard those two. They aren't going to let us in if we play by their rules. So it's time to change the rules."

Tim blushed and smiled. He was unaware that he was cupping one of his very large boobs; the mission required a heightened libido, and he'd probably overdone it. Tim's body was even curvier than Rob's; he'd told Anya to make him a knockout, and she'd used his mental image to comply. Now he had to live with the consequences for the next day and a half. "Let's go get this over with," Tim said in a squeaky soprano voice. He couldn't help sounding like a bimbo thanks to Anya's magic.

"You got the gear?" Chuck asked, worried about this mission.

Rob patted his purse. "Wireless web cams, mikes, and a still camera." Over his shoulder, Rob carried a duffel bag full of other supplies, special little party favors for their encounters.

Brandon clasped Rob's hand. "Good luck." For the briefest of moments, he had very colorful thoughts of what he'd rather that Rob and Tim do right now, but he suppressed them. This mission was too important for him to be distracted by a very interesting fantasy.

The two girls turned, their short skirts flaring around their round sexy derrieres, their large bosoms swaying and jiggling. With a wiggle to their hips, they strutted out of the gym. From the high heels to the miniskirts, from the tight blouses to the low neckline, the girls were designed and clad as advertisements for sex.

With heads swiveling to track their every move, the two girls sauntered toward the gym. For nearly an hour, they strutted around, making a show of watching the athletes training and oohing and aahing at the muscular physiques. Finally, the athletic director came out of his office; it was late, and the gym was starting to get deserted. It didn't take much to convince him that the two girls wouldn't mind some company for the evening, and he was eager to volunteer his services.

As he drove them toward his house, he didn't notice the van following at a discrete distance. He led the two girls into the house and poured himself a drink, offering the same to the girls. Tim accepted a glass of wine, but Rob turned him down. One of them had to have a clear head.

It didn't take long for the coach to put the moves on. He had Tim sitting on his lap and was fondling a large breast while he nibbled on Tim's ear. As Tim began to respond, Rob slipped around the room, stealthily extracting bits and pieces of electronic gear and flipping them on. That accomplished, Rob turned and saw that Tim was now bare-bosomed, with the coach's face plastered between his large melons.

"Are you as horny as I am?" Tim asked in a bedroom voice. The coach looked up and nodded vigorously.

Rob sat down on the coach's other leg. "How do you like games?" Rob asked, trying to sound seductive.

"Games?" the coach gulped, prying his face from Tim's cleavage.

Rob smiled. "Just a little dress-up and naughtiness," he said, licking his full pouty lips. The coach gulped, and nodded vigorously as he felt Tim stroking his dick. He was in no position to refuse these two sex kittens.

Rob's idea of dress-up was a French Maid costume for the coach, which he willingly donned as Tim gave him a blowjob. Then Rob put on a dominatrix outfit. As Tim bent over the couch, accepting the coach from the rear, Rob lashed him. He cried in pain, but continued to try to service Tim. Again, Rob lashed him, and he screamed in delight. Then as he bent forward, Rob put on a huge strap-on. Suddenly, the coach felt something at his rear, and before he could protest, it began to force itself painfully into his rear. He turned, and Rob whipped him with a riding crop, calling him a naughty boy. He whimpered, and turned away from Rob. Painfully at first, Rob pumped the huge dildo in and out of the coach's rear. He squealed with pleasure as he shot his load into Tim, his excitement heightened by the internal stimulation of his anus.

The games continued, with the girls taking turns commanding the meek little maid to crawl on his knees and service them. He played the game willingly and perfectly, and finally collapsed into a dreamy sleep, exhausted and spent. Tim and Rob gathered up their gear, leaving the coach in the maid costume, and slipped out of his house. The van was at the curb to meet them. As Rob crawled in, he turned to Chuck. "Get it?" he asked, trying not to sound so sultry and sexy, which was difficult with the voice Anya had given him.

Chuck felt his erect prick and swallowed. It had been difficult to concentrate, hearing the sounds and seeing the images of the two sexy girls doing the coach. Somehow, he'd managed, but he felt like he was about to explode. "Great pictures," he answered. He turned away quickly, rubbing his crotch almost painfully.

**********

"How can I help you girls?" The dean was all smiles, gazing as he was at the luscious curves of Tim and Rob.

Rob glanced at Tim, and then licked her lips. "Well you see, Dean, some of the boys at the Tri-Gamma house have been pestering us. They won't leave us alone."

Tim tried to look helpless. "They keep saying that we're tramps, and stuff like that." He wiggled his top slightly, setting his boobs jiggling. "They're kind of mean."

The dean gave them a friendly smile. "You know we don't tolerate sexual harassment on this campus," he said proudly, hoping to impress the girls with a protective air. "It's my job to investigate these type of affairs...er, matters, and make sure that anyone guilty is punished."

Rob put on a big pout. "And one of them gave me this!" He was pointing to his leg, more specifically, to his inner thigh. The dean couldn't see. Rob looked up and saw the dean craning his neck to look over his desk. Rob giggled. "Silly me, of course you can't see from over there!" He rose and walked around the desk, then hiked up her skirt. There, on the inside of her thigh, was a large bite mark.

The dean glanced at the mark, then up at Rob's pretty face, then back at the bite mark. Little did he know that Tim had just recently made the mark. He was too busy staring at her shapely thigh and panties. He didn't see Tim move behind him.

"What...?" he demanded suddenly as he felt the spray hitting his head. He sat up and spun, just in time to catch a face full of spray from the bottle Tim was holding. "What are you two...?"

The dean felt faint. Something didn't quite feel right. As he watched, he saw his hair shooting out, light and blonde and curly. At the same time, he felt his body rearranging itself. His chest felt heavy; when he looked down, he saw breasts that put Tim's to shame. And his clothing! It was changing as well, into a trampy little outfit. Within seconds, his transformation was complete, and he was even more feminine than either Tim or Rob.

Tim and Rob flanked the new girl and helped her to her feet. She was tiny, making her boobs look almost cartoonishly large, and with a wasp waist and big hips, she was quite hot. "What...?" the girl demanded again, surprising herself with a new sultry voice. "What have you done to me?"

Tim shrugged. "Oh, relax Dean. We're just going to take you to party is all."

"But how? I'm a girl!" The dean was obviously having problems with the change. "And I feel so...weird!"

Tim looked curious for a moment, then smiled. "Oh, that! That's called being horny. The little body we gave you is just aching to get laid!" He grinned as he watched the shocked expression spread across the dean's pretty little face.

The two girls led the dean out of his office by the back door. A van was waiting, with the driver and an accomplice in ski masks. The door slammed shut and the van lurched away from the building. Moments later, the van stopped and the door opened again. "Time to get out, dean," Tim said pleasantly. "Or should we call you Deanna?" She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yes, I think Deanna sounds much better."

With the dean whimpering at his plight, both from fear of having sex and from an incredibly powerful sexual need, the trio walked brazenly to the door of the Alpha house. The guy who answered the door was surprised, but only too eager to let the girls in.

In the van, Chuck was playing with himself as he watched. Though they hated to do it, they had to use the Alpha frat for this part; they'd left the cameras and mikes in the Alpha house from their last encounter. So it had to be the Alphas. But on the other hand, it was only too fitting for the dean to be humiliated in one of the pet fraternities. Chuck felt ready to burst; the dean was proving more than a match for the fraternity. In fact, the dean as a bimbo was currently doing three at once, and that was after all the others he'd done. It was hard to believe that this little sexpot was the stodgy dean of students, but here was the proof. And as a girl, he had a very good imagination. He'd done things to those guys that Chuck didn't think was possible.

Tim and Rob scampered out of the house, leaving the dean behind with a house full of horny Alphas. They were all going to be in for a big surprise around midnight or so. They pulled open the door. "This one going okay?" Rob asked as he sat down.

Chuck swallowed, feeling frustrated and horny as hell, and nodded. "Good feeds. And she's really getting it." He turned away from the two girls. "I see you two got a bit of action, too."

Tim blushed, turning toward the door, but Rob looked defiantly at Chuck. "Like I said, combat pay."

**********

Once again, the special council of the fraternities, the administration, and the faculty was about to be called to session. As they were about to start, Dean Livingstone and Coach Varney walked in late. As he was about to sit, the dean saw an envelope in his chair. Scowling, he picked it up as he sat. He opened it and saw a picture; he blanched, then looked up and glared at Brandon and Chuck. The coach, likewise, found his envelope. He sank in his chair, his face clouded with anger.

This time, the presentation went without interruption. The president of the fraternity council congratulated the boys on their unique solution to the problem, and the faculty was quite impressed. The vote was almost unanimous, with the Alpha house voting against, while the dean and the coach abstained, still sitting fuming in their chairs. The vote carried.

As they stood getting congratulated by the council, Brandon saw Dean Livingstone walking toward him. He turned with a pleasant smile. "Thank you for giving us another chance to present, Dean. I'm sure this will be of mutual benefit to us and to the university."

The dean glared at him, then lowered his voice. "I don't know how you did it, but I'm going to get you. Mark my words, I'm going to get you for this."

Chuck flinched visibly. "Get us? I don't understand, Dean. All we did is to present our proposal. You act like we've done something reprehensible or something."

The dean clenched his jaw. This was still too public a forum, but it was obvious that he was furious. As he stormed away, Brandon turned to Chuck. The grins were broad and genuine. They were a fraternity.

**********

Anya sat across from her grandmother. From the crossed arms and defiant stare, she was expecting a lecture. Instead, she was surprised when the old woman simply asked her, "Why?"

Anya thought for a second. "Because they were being picked on for being different. The dean and the coach were trying to sabotage something good they were doing."

The old woman looked at her for a long while, then she nodded slightly. "You know, Anya, you're getting quite an unusual sense of justice - and a strange sense of humor." Her impassive expression suddenly broke and she grinned. "It's fun to help out sometimes, isn't it?"

FIN

***********************************************************************************8

Bikini Beach: The Nerds — Fund Raiser
ElrodW

Having found a way to become a fraternity, the boys how have the problem of raising money to purchase the old gym and refurbish it. Of course, they'll find a way to use the Bikini Beach magic to help.

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Brandon slumped in his chair as the paper slipped from his hands. "Damn," he muttered under his breath.

Rob glanced up sharply from his computer. "Another rejection?"

Brandon sighed, then nodded. "Yup." He flopped his forehead onto his upturned palm, shaking his head slowly. "What are we going to do?"

Bert, the third room-mate, looked up from his studies. "How much longer do we have before we lose the deal?"

Brandon sighed, his head still shaking slowly. "Thirty days,"

"I think the dean is pulling strings around town," Rob observed bitterly. "Trying to keep us from getting the loan."

"And no loan, no improvements. No improvements, no lease. No lease, no frat house. No house, no fraternity." He sighed again. "If we don't get a loan, we're going to lose our charter."

Chuck cursed from the doorway. "That son of a bitch got us, didn't he?"

Brandon snapped his head up. "No, he didn't. Not yet, anyway." His tone was suddenly defiant, as if he'd found a new reserve of energy. "We're going to get a loan, and to hell with the dean."

Bert sighed his hopelessness. "How, Brandon? Even with national guaranteeing the loan, we still need twenty percent down. That's over forty-thousand dollars, in case you'd forgotten."

Chuck nodded glumly. "We've got just over fifteen. So how do we raise another twenty-five thousand in thirty days?"

Rob snorted his disgust. "Not possible," he proclaimed. He turned to Brandon, and instantly recognized the look. It was something he'd grown up with — a far-off look of concentration as Brandon considered all the possible permutations of a new idea. When he had the look, nothing could interrupt Brandon. He just waited.

"Okay, let's look at fundraising options. How do people raise money?" he asked simply. Before anyone could answer, he did himself. "Car washes. Bake sales. Charity auctions." He glanced around the room. "Okay, so we could have a car wash, but it wouldn't draw many people, would it?"

Chuck glanced at Rob, then at Bert, and then shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

Rob chimed in. "The charity fundraising records show that, once, a few years ago, the Delta house made almost two thousand dollars at a car wash."

Brandon smiled. "Right. And you know why?" He watched the puzzled faces, then he held his hands up in front of his chest, miming tits. "That's why."

"But we're..." Bert's train of thought ended abruptly. "Oh," he mouthed as he realized where Brandon was leading. "Hmm. It might work."

Brandon grinned. "Of course it'll work. Rob, can you run down to talk to that girl you know? See if she can help us out?"

**********

"Hi, Anya," Rob said softly as he walked into the office of Bikini Beach. He felt a little out of place; most of the time, he'd talked to Anya either at the ticket booth or inside the park. This was the first time he'd been in the office.

"Hi, Rob," Anya said from behind a large desk. "Grandmother is out playing today, so I'm stuck running things." She gestured at an empty chair. "Have a seat. How can we help you today?"

Rob slid into the chair. "No mind tricks today?" he asked cautiously.

Anya laughed, a pleasant and melodious sound. "Not today, Rob. So what's on your mind?"

"We need to raise some money to get our house. We think the dean is using his influence to block a loan, and if we can't raise the down payment soon, we'll lose everything." His words gushed forth, spilling out from his frustration and anger.

Anya listened impassively. "Okay, so how can we help?"

Rob felt hopeful. "We want to do a car wash to start with the fund raising. But like this..." he glanced down at himself, "we wouldn't make very much."

Anya understood quickly. "Ah, so you want to change into some bodies that will help you attract customers, right?"

Rob let out his breath audibly. "That's the idea. I guess it'd be about a dozen of us."

Anya looked thoughtful for a moment, then she scribbled a number on a piece of paper and passed it to Rob. "How's that sound for fees?" She smiled. "It's less than normal tickets, but we can write off some of the expenses as charity since you are affiliated with the university."

Rob nodded. "That's fair. And we'll need something really curvy, with teeny little bikinis." He thought of another detail. "Oh yeah, and we want the sex drive turned way down."

Anya laughed. "Yeah, you guys have had some problems with that one, haven't you." She laughed, as Rob blushed crimson.

**********

"Okay, guys," Brandon said reassuringly, "this is just a simple change. We've been through it, and it's no big deal. You'll be a girl until around midnight or one is all." He made it sound like an everyday occurrence, but he didn't convince anyone. If they hadn't seen Rob and Tim changed, they would have panicked. As it was, they'd _also_ seen Larry change, and with a vastly enhanced libido. Larry had been a slut for the rest of the day, a whore only too happy to fuck any man she saw. Some of the nerds thought fondly of their memories of Larry, their first encounter with a woman.

Rob nodded. "I had Anya turn down the libidos. You should be less horny than you are now, in fact, so you won't have any problems." He glanced around. "Look guys, I've done this a few times. It's no big deal, okay?"

Chuck piped in. "And we need to do this to raise the money, right?"

Grudgingly, the rest of the lads nodded their assent. Rob smiled, then began to hand out the passes. "Okay, we'll go in about four at a time. I'll take the first group. Brandon, you take the second, and Chuck, you've got the third."

"Why four at a time?" a squeaky voice asked.

Rob sighed. "Because this place is for women. It doesn't have a lot of men coming. So the men's locker room is kind of small, okay?" He waited only a second. "Okay, let's go." He led his group of young men toward the gate. Around them, attractive girls sauntered in, swiping passes as they went, and giving the boys strange looks. They knew what the boys were in for, and from their stares, they found the prospect amusing. That alone was disconcerting to Rob's group. Still, he managed to keep them together into the locker. They changed — and then the newcomers froze. "What now?"

Rob sighed again. How many times did he have to explain it? Perhaps, his mind quickly reasoned, the concept of magic was so foreign to the guys' logical minds that they kept stumbling over it. "In the showers," he ordered, waiting until the others were in before he stepped into his own shower.

Even as Rob felt the wonderful changes, he heard a high-pitched scream. He stepped out, still changing, and tugged open a curtain. Behind it, he saw one of his group, mid change, staring in horror at the growing mounds on his chest, screaming with a female voice. Rob grasped her wrists and pulled her from the water. "Snap out of it. Uh...Don?" He glanced around and saw two other very feminine faces staring from behind shower curtains. "Okay, guys. Let's get out and see what we've got."

Only the fact that Rob was so calm amid these drastic changes gave the guys any hope of functioning. He sized them up quickly, even as he felt his own changes finishing. All four were not just attractive, but were knockouts. Boobs started at D-cup and went up from there. Waists — uniformly narrow, but not ridiculously so. Nice flat stomachs. Round shapely asses. Long sexy smooth legs. Rob nodded his approval. "Good," he said in a sexy voice. "This is going to work well."

"Now...what?" one of the new girls asked fearfully. She'd been shy as a guy, and now was terrified.

"We go outside and get our bikini tops. Then we go to the carwash site."

"Out...outside?" The face was panic-stricken. "Where there are other people?"

Rob sighed. He should have thought of this. "Wait just a minute, guys." He ducked quickly out the door into the park.

Anya was waiting for him holding four bikini tops. She looked puzzled when he appeared alone. "Problems?" she asked.

Rob nodded. "A bit shell-shocked, I think."

Anya smiled. "It happens a lot." She waved a hand as she chanted something, then she grasped the door handle and led Rob back into the locker room.

The change was dramatic. Now, instead of three frightened girls, there were three shapely young ladies calmly waiting for Rob. They knew who they were, and who Rob was, and what they were doing. The only difference, and it was a striking one, was that they were magically comfortable with their changes. Rob nodded his thanks to Anya.

"I should have thought of this earlier," she said, chiding herself for the oversight. She handed out the bras, and the girls put them on like pros. That task done, Rob glanced at his group again.

As he led the girls out toward the cars, Rob smiled to himself. This was going to be great. The girls were knockouts. As he passed Brandon, he waved, and watched with amusement as the novices in Brandon's group gulped and trembled, having just seen a glimpse of what they could expect.

**********

Rob glanced across the car at Brandon and grinned. The car wash was going well. Better than well. Anya's minor 'adjustment' had made a tremendous difference. The 'girls' were proudly flaunting their shapely bodies as cars drove by, waving their signs and bouncing and swaying seductively. Business was good. And the 'girls' were very pleased to be getting the attention they were getting.

They'd made arrangements with an off-campus fast-food joint to hold the car wash there. Besides separating themselves from the campus restrictions and rules, they were in a much more visible spot.

"How much you think we've got so far?" Brandon asked as he rinsed off the windshield. As usual, part of the cold water sprayed on Rob; his nipples were cold and firmly erect, putting on a display inside the miniscule bikini tops.

Rob tossed a rag at Brandon to stop the spray. "I don't know. Tim's got the money."

Brandon finished rinsing, then dropped the hose and strode to Tim. A brief chat ensued, and he returned to the car, a satisfied smile on his pretty face. "Almost fifteen hundred," he reported happily.

**********

The girls sprawled in the lounge furniture; the lounge was really a misnomer. Only part of the gym was filled with temporary rooms; the remainder had received a load of outdated and old furniture. Sofas, end tables, chairs — it was all strewn about haphazardly. The university had even recovered an old television for entertainment — not that it worked very well.

Now, however, the furniture was occupied with exhausted girls. Still in their bikinis, they were laid out like battlefield wounded.

"Hey, Brandon," one of the girls called, barely moving from her prone position.

"What?" Brandon answered, likewise immobile.

"How much did we make?"

"Just over two thousand."

"Yay!" "Hooray!" "Way to go!" "Great!" The voices were happy, but uniformly lacking in enthusiasm, probably because the speakers were all exhausted.

"We broke the Delta's record," one girl said proudly.

"And without having to 'bribe' anyone!" Feeble laughter rippled through the hall. Everyone knew that the Delta girls had a reputation as being very easy.

"Rob," Brandon called out weakly.

"Yeah, Brandon?"

"You going to take a shower?"

"Uh huh." Rob didn't move.

"Me too." Brandon likewise sat still. "My body hurts," Brandon finally added.

"Me too," came a chorus of replies. A couple of guys came in, glanced at the sprawled sexy girls, and made a suggestive comment. He was booed out of the room.

**********

The executive committee of the fraternity sat around the chess table in Rob's room. It was Chuck, Rob, Brandon, Bert, and Arnold — the same group who had instigated the fraternity quest. "Okay, Bert, how much have we got?"

Bert checked his PDA. "Counting the fifteen we started with, we've got almost twenty-five thousand now."

Chuck visibly winced. "That leaves us with fifteen to go." He shook his head. "I don't think we're going to make it, guys."

Rob nodded morosely. He'd come to the same conclusion. For long moments, silence filled the room.

Finally, Arnold interrupted. "Guys, we've got something going here. I'm not going to give up, and you shouldn't either."

Rob looked up at him, almost angry. "Look, we knocked ourselves out with the carwash. We did the bake sale. We've tried a lot of things, and we're about tapped out." He shook his head. "The overhead of changing for the bake sale left us almost even." He lowered his head. "And I don't think _any_ of us want to try the personal maid thing again!"

"You've got that right!" Bert agreed passionately. "I've never been so humiliated in my entire life!" They had gone so far as to change so they could serve as 'personal maids', at a very hefty fee, of course. While they had raised several thousand dollars, most of the guys had decided to put 'personal' into personal service; the maids had done little cleaning, but much servicing.

Arnold shook his head. "There's got to be a way!"

Rob snorted. "We tried. We came up short."

Brandon got the far-off look again. Silently, he rose and padded to his computer. A few deft keystrokes later and he was searching the Internet. After a minute or two, he sat back. "Yup."

"What?" Rob's plea echoed the sentiments of all in the room — curiosity to see what Brandon had found.

Brandon turned from the computer. "There was a volunteer fire department that did a pinup calendar to raise money. They made almost sixty thousand in three months."

Arnold glanced around, then looked at Brandon, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't know if you've thought of it, but none of us are exactly built for that kind of calendar."

Rob nodded his agreement. "And we don't have three months. We've got more like two weeks."

Brandon grinned. "I wasn't thinking of that kind of calendar. But what if we looked like we did during the car wash?"

**********

The old woman stared impassively across her desk at Rob and Bert. "Let me get this straight. You want to change into girls, and then use my park as a background for cheesecake pictures? So you can sell a calendar to raise money?"

Bert nodded gingerly. He felt genuine fear toward this woman, and for a reason that he couldn't quite explain. "That's the idea," he said meekly.

The old woman shook her head. "This park is a sanctuary for women. I can't let anyone in to take pictures. I won't. It violates every tenet of privacy I've so carefully built."

Rob shrugged off his fear. "I know that. But I think we can work something out."

The old woman looked defiantly at him, then scowled. "It's a rule I won't bend. No cameras in the park."

Rob glanced at Anya, who nodded to encourage him. Rob had already outlined his idea to Anya, and she'd thought it was good enough to present to her grandmother.

"I know you don't like cameras. And I don't want to violate anyone's privacy. Believe me, we know all about having our privacy abused." He watched for a reaction from the old woman. When he didn't see any, he decided to plow ahead. "One member of our fraternity is a photography buff. He could take the pictures. That cuts down on outside people. And we could take them early in the day — before any customers arrive."

The old woman's eyes narrowed, then she nodded imperceptibly. "Go on."

Rob swallowed, then glanced at Anya. "Look, one thing you need is advertising copy. Your privacy rule smacks right into that. If you let us use the park, we'll sign releases so you can use any or all of the pictures for your ad copy." He waited a second. "This can be a win-win."

The old woman stared at Rob for a while; her mind was obviously racing as she considered the possibilities. "What about residuals from the calendar sales?"

"Residuals?" Rob asked, his mouth dropping open.

The old woman smiled. "Sure. If you're going to use my park, then it's only fair that you pay residuals or royalties."

Rob gulped. He hadn't considered that angle. He did a few quick mental calculations. "I guess we could give you ten percent," he said hesitantly.

The old woman threw back her head and laughed. "My boy, you have a lot to learn about business." She glanced at Anya, then back at Rob. "I can't take advantage of you like that. The standard for royalties is four or five percent tops. Not ten."

Rob's eyes widened and he stared at the old woman for a few seconds. He turned to Anya, uncertain. He thought he was hearing something positive, but he wasn't sure.

Anya smiled pleasantly. "Rob, I think grandmother is saying that you've got a deal."

Rob swallowed, then turned to grandmother, who was smiling. She extended a hand across the table, which Rob took and shook. "It's a deal, just like Anya says." She sat back. "So when do you want to get started?"

Rob felt the world spin. This was going well. Too well. He was starting to expect something to go wrong. "Um," he muttered, "we've got a real short deadline, so the sooner, the better. Can we start shooting tomorrow morning?"

The old woman glanced at Anya, then back at Rob. "Tomorrow is Sunday. We open to our members at ten. You'd have to be out by then."

Rob thought for a moment. "Sunup is around seven. Three hours. That should get us some good pictures."

Anya touched his arm lightly. "You'll probably need another day or two. Weekdays, we open at eleven. That'd give you an extra hour."

Rob sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right." He suddenly felt the size of the task and suppressed a shudder. "I don't know, Anya," he said after a second. "This is going to be a lot of work. I hope we can pull it off."

The old woman sized up his concerns almost instantly. "One cameraman is going to be very busy. The models are going to have it easy." She turned to her granddaughter. "Anya, isn't Greg a photography hobbyist?"

Anya's eyes widened slightly, then she pressed her lips together and started muttering oaths to herself. "Damn. I should have thought of that." She turned to Rob, excitement on her face. "Rob, my boyfriend is pretty handy with a camera. With two photographers, you should have no problem getting enough pictures in two mornings."

Rob's eyes lit up. A little bit of help could make the entire project work. "That sounds good. So we'll start shooting at seven tomorrow?"

**********

"It's too damned early," Bert muttered for the tenth time. Bleary-eyed, he and a gaggle of nerds staggered across the asphalt toward the gate of Bikini Beach. "Why are we here so early?"

Rob turned and sighed. "Some of you are going to help Randy set up the cameras and gear. The rest of you have to change and then get made up."

"Makeup?" Tim spat the word as if it were distasteful, which to him, it was. "We have to wear makeup?"

Randy glanced over his shoulder, a shoulder laden with the straps to numerous camera and equipment bags. "This is a professional calendar. So you have to look like professional models. Yes, you have to wear makeup."

"But why so early?" Bert complained again.

Randy started to answer, but Anya stepped around the corner of the ticket booth. "Because it takes _girls_ a long time to properly put on makeup," she answered. There was a guy beside Anya. She took his arm and smiled at Rob. "Rob, Brandon, this is Greg, my boyfriend. Greg, Rob and Brandon."

Greg extended his hand, warmly. "Glad to meet you. Anya has told me a lot about you guys." He grinned. "Nice work with the Alphas."

Brandon glanced at Anya. "How many people have you told about that little caper?"

Anya laughed. "Just Greg and grandmother. And I really didn't have to tell her, you know." She glanced at the horizon, where faint streaks of light were beginning to show. "We'd better get you guys showered and changed so we don't waste any time." She led the group to the ticket gate, then gave them each a card. "Okay, here's how this works. You're going to change into essentially a female version of yourself, but with a few minor enhancements." She elbowed Greg, who was making cupping motions at his chest.

Greg leaned close to Brandon. "You ever see a model named Pandora Peaks?" Brandon glanced at him, then his face split into a big grin. Greg smiled. "I thought so. Keep thinking about her when you go through the turnstile."

Brandon got a puzzled look. "Why?"

Greg grinned. "It helps make your figure a little better," he said mischievously. "You guys want super models, don't you?"

Anya gave him a quick glare, which silenced Greg. She turned back to the group. "Who are the models?" Brandon, Tim, Arnold, and a few others raised their hands. "Okay, you go first." She handed them cards as they stepped forward. Each one swiped his card, as he went through the turnstile. "Get showered. Rob, you go with them, then come to the ladies locker." She stopped suddenly. "Wait. You did remember the makeup supplies I told you to get, didn't you?"

Rob smiled and held up a large gym bag. "Just what you said."

"Okay, go shower and hustle to the ladies locker." She turned to the rest of the guys as the 'models' went into the men's locker. "Okay, I presume the rest of you are help?" She watched them nod. "After you go through the turnstile, set down your gear by the locker room and go shower."

Chuck frowned. "Wait a minute. Why do we have to shower if we're just assistants and gofers?"

Anya sighed. "Because this is a ladies park, and grandmother doesn't let men inside," she answered sternly. "Besides, there's nothing like guys around to distract girls trying to model. Does that answer your question?" She waited for further objections. "No? Good. Now let's get going here." She handed out the cards and watched as the guys filed through the turnstile. As Greg was about to enter, she grasped his arm. "Keep it simple, okay?"

Chuck heard her admonishment and wondered what _that_ was about. Maybe he'd have to talk to Greg about it.

One by one, the guys changed in the showers. Blonde, brunette, and even one auburn. Curvy, but not stripper proportions. Nice shapely girls, with a girl-next-door look. A few of the guys had minor panic attacks as they changed; Anya was on hand to calm them down with a little magic.

Brandon came out of the locker, and spied Greg. The look on Brandon's face was not pleasant, and he marched toward Greg, his hands holding the large boobs on his chest. "Very funny," he said, surprised at the sex appeal dripping from his voice.

Greg tried to look innocent, but failed. Instead, he broke out laughing. With the mental image Greg had given Brandon, he'd become a hybrid between the girl he would have been and Pandora Peaks. Brandon's tits were huge, to say the least, and with a tiny waist, they looked even bigger. Greg's laughter was infectious; most of the guys lined up to change were snickering. "Sorry, Brandon," Greg apologized through guffaws. "I couldn't help myself."

Brandon scowled. "You did that on purpose!" he accused, his voice still sounding sexy. He spun, and had to catch his big tits, which swayed dangerously from the sudden motion. The tiny bikini he was wearing did precious little to contain the motion, and the guys waiting had another laugh at Brandon's expense.

**********

"Uh, Brandon?" a female version of Rob asked uncertainly as Brandon came into the women's locker.

Brandon scowled. "Yeah. Greg tricked me." He slumped into a chair to get makeup.

Rob nudged Anya. "We've got a problem," he said softly.

Anya turned, and her eyes bulged. "Brandon? What the hell happened?"

"Your boyfriend tricked me. He got me thinking about a big-chested stripper before I went through the gate." Brandon was pouting at his predicament, but he couldn't see how sexy it made him look.

Anya bit her lip. "Sorry about that, but I can't undo it." She glanced at Rob. "Brandon doesn't fit the image you were looking for."

Rob glanced, then nodded. "Sorry, Brandon, but you look like a stripper, and we wanted more of a girl-next-door look. I don't think you should model."

Brandon sighed, then perked up a bit. "Well, at least I won't have to put on makeup."

Rob sighed. "So we're short one model."

Brandon glanced at Anya, then smiled. "No, we're not."

Anya nodded. "You and Brandon switch places. Brandon, you'll help with the makeup, and Rob'll model." She glanced at Brandon again. "And I'll get Greg for his little trick."

**********

Randy was a taskmaster when it came to modeling. He divided up the chores for the morning. He took responsibility for the still shots, and he gave Greg the task of the action photos.

Randy had scouted the day before, and knew precisely where he wanted to take stills. The sun rising over the water and palm trees of the tropical lagoon made a spectacular backdrop, and Randy shot over ten rolls there alone. The tropical hut and white sand of the Tiki Hut gave some good photos. Beside the Pele Race slides was a decorative waterfall; with the tropical foliage it was a scene from a south pacific fantasy. More pictures came at the Gold Rush run, with its mining theme making a nice change. But Randy ran out of time; there were four more areas he wanted to take pictures at, but he had to start tearing down so the park could open.

And all the while, between shots, the girls were running back and forth to the locker rooms, touching up their makeup, changing swimsuits, and combing their hair. The girls assisting Randy got a rest while he took pictures, but had to scramble when it was time to move to another setting.

Greg kept his crew busy, too. He started with some action shots at the Wild Luau Raft, a group raft ride. The tricky part for him was that it took a long time to set up for each shot, with the girls having to go back to the top and get in their raft. After the first set of shots, he turned the camera's motor drive to full automatic, to maximize the chances of good pictures. Each run after the first gave him four or five shots. A group shot racing down Pele's Race came next, then some shots of girls body surfing at the Tropical Waves wave pool. He got a couple of girls to volunteer for the Pipeline, and caught them mid-scream as they plummeted down the slippery channel. As he expected, their bikini tops came off at the bottom, but he'd stopped snapping pictures by then.

The Old Swimming Hole gave some good shots of the girls swinging out over the pond, and some rafting shots along Old Man River were a peaceful change from the heart-stopping thrill rides. He took a few more photos at the Dambuster Raft Ride, and then had to stop for the morning.

**********

Greg and Anya joined the nerds at the gym. Greg and Randy's were in Randy's room, looking over the massive number of digital photos to select the best samples, while Anya sat with the guys in the lounge. Some of the unchanged guys were present, being curious as to what lay in store for them tomorrow. Greg had wanted to talk with Chuck about the remodeling of the gym, but Anya forced him to work on the immediate task — the pictures.

"I never knew that putting makeup on could be so tiring," Brandon complained. He'd put on a high-collared coat to hide his huge tits; even the coat didn't disguise his vastly enhanced bust.

Another guy-turned-to-girl sighed. "Try working with Randy. He's a cruel boss. My back is killing me from lugging around those lights and reflectors."

"Oh, yeah? Well try spending hours changing into and out of swimsuits, posing in unnatural positions, and having to smile and look sexy." The model sighed as he leaned back on a sofa. "If I never change into a bikini again, it'll be too soon."

One of the guys grinned. "Sounds good to me." Most of the guys who'd been changed hurled pillows, cushions, and other soft objects at the poor guy.

Rob smiled. "Careful, Sam. Anya can make sure you get a real sore back tomorrow carrying around big tits all day." Anya turned, then smiled.

Brandon sighed. "We did pretty good, but I think we could have used more models."

Anya nodded her agreement. "Greg and Randy were fighting over models most of the morning. We could have used twice as many girls."

Brandon nodded. "Well, we'll get more for tomorrow morning." He yawned. It was late afternoon. Except for Randy and Greg, the others had stayed to play for a few hours, enjoying the park as guests of the old woman. After all, as she explained, they were helping her with advertising photos. Consequently, they were all pretty tired. "I think I'm going to get some sleep." He stood and, purely from reflex, stretched. His large bustline was well displayed, even through the coat.

"Want some company?" one of the guys asked with a wicked grin.

Brandon started to frown, then he stopped. "No, I don't think so. I'm just going to go to bed. By myself. And lay naked on the sheets, licking and playing with my huge titties while I touch my hot wet clit. And thinking about how a _real_ man would make me feel." He turned, then smiled over his shoulder. "Sweet dreams," he purred as he sauntered out of the room, his butt swinging sexily.

Anya and Rob were ready to choke on their laughter; the poor guy sat stunned, his mind running wild with the images Brandon had verbalized. He gulped, feeling himself getting turned on at the pornographic imagery, while he blushed at the laughter directed his way. It was going to be a long, lonely night for the poor guy.

Rob turned back to Anya. "How many models do you want? We had, what, eight today? You think we should have twelve or fourteen?"

Anya thought for a moment. "Greg said he thought that twice as many would be good. Can you get that many?"

Rob thought for a minute. "We had two working on makeup, two cameras, and four assistants for each camera? With twice as many, we'd need at least one more on makeup. That's about thirty?" He stared at the ceiling for a moment. "Yeah, I think we can do that." Then a thought occurred to him. "What about Greg? Will he be able to help with the photography tomorrow?"

Anya nodded. "He's got a pretty wide open schedule, so he should be free."

Rob nodded. "We're going to have to do something for him," he said. "He's putting in a lot of effort for us on this project."

Anya looked genuinely and pleasantly surprised. "Well, what about inviting him to join your fraternity?" she asked.

It was Rob's turn to be surprised. "I wouldn't have thought of that. You know, we're just a bunch of..."

Anya cut him off. "Guys trying to start a fraternity? Yeah, well, you might think about asking him. Even if he turns you down, it would be a nice gesture."

Rob started to answer, but was interrupted by Greg and Randy. "Got the proofs ready," Greg announced as he offered his hand to Anya. She took his hand and pulled herself up from her chair. "You should see the setup he's got! Man, he's got some professional-grade image software!"

Anya smiled, then glanced at Ron with an 'I told you so' look.

**********

"I've got five extra guys, just like you asked," Brandon said to Anya, puzzled by her last-minute request. "What's up?"

Anya winced. Grandmother's request was strange, but not entirely unexpected. After all, if these photos were advertising copy, she needed ads for all sections of the park. "Well, it's like this." She explained what her grandmother had asked.

Brandon's grimace was plain. "That's a pretty tall order, isn't it?" He was clearly uneasy about the whole thing. "I mean, that's a lot bigger change than what we've done so far."

Anya's expression betrayed her discomfort. "Yeah, I know. But we need pictures of those areas, too." She watched as Brandon mulled over the request, and she knew that he was about to turn her down. "Grandmother said I can offer a hundred dollars each for the first group, and we can work out something with passes for both groups."

Brandon thought. Some of the guys were enjoying visits to Bikini Beach; passes would be valuable commodities. "I'll ask, but don't hold your breath."

He returned to the assembled group. "Okay, Anya has a kind of unusual request. Here's the deal. She'd like two or three volunteers to change into little girls for some pictures at the kiddie play area, and another two or three for the junior swimmer area."

The reaction was exactly what Brandon expected. "You mean we'd be turned into little girls? For the day?" Brandon nodded, at which point the grumbling started to get loud.

Brandon tried to silence the group. "Anya offered a hundred for each guy who changes into a little girl, and she said she'd work out something with passes for both the kiddies and the juniors."

Brandon's words didn't stop the protests. All of the guys were upset at this last request. Being a girl, well that was one thing. But changing into a little girl, or even a toddler? That was too much. They started to condemn the offer.

"Hold it, guys," Chuck's voice boomed out. "Look, we're trying to raise some money here, and the old woman and Anya have been pretty generous to us. The least we could do is a small favor to show her that we're grateful." He turned to Brandon. "Put me down for the kiddie group. No charge." Then he grinned. "Except maybe a day pass or two later on."

Chuck's remonstration silenced the protests. Reluctantly, some of the guys followed his lead, even to turning down the money. As they reported to Anya, she smiled. She hadn't underestimated these guys after all.

**********

Rob instinctively patted the little pigtailed-girl on the head, looking down with a smile.

The girl frowned. "Watch it, Rob. It's still me in here." The girl, a tiny little four-year-old, had been Chuck until moments ago. Now, Chuck was a short, slender little girl with long brown hair in pigtails, wearing a pink one-piece swimsuit.

He looked too cute, Rob thought again. He glanced around and saw the other kids; two more cute little tykes, and three gangly girls about ten to twelve years old. Of the older girls, one had braces, which had upset the guy quite a bit, while another was just starting to show chest development. Rob suppressed a chuckle when he thought that these cute little girls were really college-age guys.

Anya, however, wasn't about to hold her tongue. "You guys look great!" she gushed. "You're just perfect!"

Chuck looked down at the sidewalk. "Yeah, well, this isn't a lot of fun," he grumbled in a high-pitched little girl voice.

Anya smiled. "You'll have a ball. Now I think Greg's got the cameras set up over at the Kiddie Play Land. You and the other little ones run over, and you should be done quickly. Then you can hang out and play for the rest of the day. Oh, and I got one of our lifeguards, Liz, to agree to escort you for the rest of the day. If you want it, she'll get it." The girls nodded, then scooted off at a quick little run. Anya watched them go with a curious, wistful look. Then she shook off the feeling and turned back. "You guys can hang out, or go ride some of the rides. It'll probably be forty or forty-five minutes before they're ready for you. Just make sure you're at the Junior Lifeguard Academy not later than seven forty-five. Okay?" The gangly young ladies nodded, then walked slowly into the park.

Brandon walked briskly toward Anya, a curious smile on his face. "Hi, Anya. I'm all set for modeling today." Once again, he was transformed, but this time, he didn't have the exaggerated figure of Pandora Peaks. He was transformed into a modestly attractive young lady, with an above-average figure - just exactly what they needed for the calendar. "By the way, have you seen Greg yet?"

Anya frowned. "No, why?" Then her eyes widened. "You're wicked!" she said as she slapped his arm. She turned and walked toward the Kiddie Play Land, to find Greg.

Rob was puzzled. "What was she talking about?" he asked. Like Brandon, and indeed all the future Nu Rho Delta guys, he was changed by the magic of Bikini Beach into a young lady. Today, he was slated to be a model, and his figure today was curvier than the one he had Sunday.

Brandon smiled. "Remember what Greg did to me yesterday?" No one in the dorm would ever forget that, not after Brandon came home with incredibly huge knockers. Rob nodded slowly, not sure he wanted to know where this was going. "Well, just as Greg was sliding his card, I flashed him a picture of Casey James."

Rob's mouth dropped open. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed softly. "She's huge!" He glanced at his own ample and attractive breasts, and thought of what his profile would look like if he had those tits. A shudder coursed up his spine.

Brandon grinned. "You should see him now. He's got the biggest knockers I've ever seen!" He laughed in his soft, feminine voice at the image of Greg. Revenge was sweet.

**********

It was another grueling day. Greg was busy with the Kiddie Play Land, then the Junior Lifeguard Academy. In the meantime, Randy used the verandas for some stills, with Old Man River meandering in the background. He returned to the lagoon, then he used the volcano as a backdrop. By nine, Randy had taken all the stills he could — using almost half of his supply of memory cards for the camera. He moved his gear to some of the rides to work on action shots.

As he set up to take a picture of girls emerging from the Tahiti Twister, an older and quite attractive woman sauntered up beside him. "I thought cameras weren't allowed," she said with the air of someone who expects to be listened to.

Randy turned to see who was bothering him, and as a result, missed the shot. At the sound of the splash, he turned back, then turned again to the woman. "You made me miss the shot!" he complained bitterly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The woman started, then she started to show her anger. "Look here, young lady, I'm a member of this park, and I was assured there are certain rules. Like no cameras."

Randy felt his temper rising. He started to reply, then turned to one of the assistants. "Go get Anya and find out who let this...this pest in!"

Before anyone could move, Anya arrived, having sensed some potential trouble. "Oh, hi, Ronnie," she said, perplexed. "What are you doing here? We don't open until eleven."

Ronnie gave Anya a quick hug. "I know, but when I saw the action down here, I just had to come have a look." She glared at the cameras. "And I found this!"

Anya's mouth opened as she understood. "Ah, yes. Your penthouse has a view..."

Ronnie smiled. "And I saw a lot of action yesterday morning and again today. So I thought I'd find out what was happening in my favorite park." She glanced at Randy and the cameras again, and her features hardened. "I thought cameras weren't permitted."

Anya nodded her understanding. "Normally, they aren't. But we found ourselves in a kind of bind. We need ad copy, and we..."

Ronnie's features softened. "Ah, I see." She smiled. "So you take the pictures before your regular guests arrive. Smart." She studied Anya for a moment. "And what else?"

Anya started, and Randy's mouth dropped open in surprise.

Ronnie watched their reactions, especially Anya's, and laughed. "Come on, dear girl," she chuckled, "surely you don't think I can't tell when you're up to something?"

Anya studied Ronnie for a moment, then nodded. "I guess that comes with years of experience swimming with the sharks. Okay, the pictures are also going to be used in a calendar, to raise money for a fraternity. They need to raise money to renovate a house, or they'll lose their charter. So we agreed to help each other out."

Ronnie studied Anya, then Randy. "So these are the nerds who are trying to renovate the gym."

Anya frowned at her choice of words. She turned to one of the assistants. "Go get Brandon. Now." It took a second for the command to sink in, then the girl turned and scampered. Anya gazed at Ronnie again, then she turned back to Randy. "You might as well get back to shooting," she said calmly. "We're wasting time."

**********

Randy and Greg, once again, were sequestered in the photo lab, while most of the remainder of the guys sprawled around the lounge. Notably, Ronnie Harris was sitting with them. Unlike the others, however, she sat properly, upright and ladylike.

"I think we've got enough pictures for both of us," Brandon said calmly. "If the shots today come out as good as yesterday's."

Ronnie nodded. "Who is going to do the printing?" she asked casually.

Ron's eyebrows raised. This lady didn't miss a trick. No wonder she was such a successful businesswoman. "We got a good bid from PrintQuick," he answered. "And a three day turnaround, too. In fact, that was the deciding factor."

Ronnie looked at him for several seconds, then she began to shake her head. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Brandon frowned. "Why not?"

Ronnie laughed. "I've used them before. They may be quick, but their quality is lousy." She took a sip of soda; even that action was dainty and refined. "If it were me, I'd use RapidRepro. They're a bit more expensive, but they could turn around that job in two days, and their quality can't be beat." She took another sip. "Especially if I had a word with Sid."

Ron sat silently, pondering. This woman was a powerful businesswoman, and she was suddenly interested in helping the guys. Something was up. His mind raced as he tried to figure out her angle.

Anya, however, wasn't so hesitant. "Ronnie, what are you up to?"

Ronnie tried to look innocent, the old 'who, me?' routine. It didn't convince Anya. She changed the subject instantly and turned back to Brandon. "How are you going to distribute the calendars?"

Brandon was puzzled. "We're going to set up a booth on campus and sell them. And post notices. Oh, and an ad in the paper."

Ronnie laughed, shaking her head all the while. "Oh, dear me!" she said, still shaking her head. "Anya," she said, sounding a bit disappointed, "haven't you given them any advice about distribution?"

Anya scowled, then lowered her head. "I hadn't thought about it. And you're right."

Ronnie turned back to Brandon and Rob. "How many calendars were you thinking you'd sell? One thousand? Two? Or are you guessing?" She watched the sheepish expressions, and knew the answer. "That's what I thought." She smiled. "Okay, I've got a proposition for you. First of all, are you planning a monthly calendar, or a weekly?"

"Monthly. Why?"

Ronnie smiled. "Why not do both? You'd make a lot more money, and if the pictures from yesterday are any guide, you've got more than enough material to do both. Okay, here's the proposition. I'll help you with the business end, for a cut of, oh, say eight percent of gross."

Brandon started to bristle. Here was a lady, who they had just met, trying to cut in on their deal. He was about to tell her what to do with herself when he felt Anya's hand on his arm. He turned, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly. He turned back, then let out a deep breath. "All right. How about if you tell us why we should agree to your terms?"

Ronnie didn't react as Brandon had expected. Instead, she just laughed. "You're pretty sharp, kid," she chuckled. "Okay, here's why. I had to work very hard to get where I am in life. It's my turn to help out the next generation of entrepreneurs. You kids are all pretty sharp. I talked to Anya's grandmother, and I know she could have taken advantage of you. I also know that _you_ didn't try to take advantage of her. That says a lot about your character." She smiled pleasantly. "And I know that that little prick Livingstone is trying to squash you guys. I always hated arrogant men." For the briefest of moments, her eyes flashed a deep hatred, then they cleared. "So here's what's in it for me. I see a product that has a lot of potential. I can help you guys." She said the word as though she knew their secret. Rob, Brandon, Chuck, and a few of the others started. "Oh, yes. I know all about Bikini Beach and its magic." She smiled again. "You were thinking of one or two thousand calendars? How about fifty thousand? At twelve dollars each, with a twenty percent margin. My cut would be nominal — say ten percent of gross, and I'll take care of the distribution."

Brandon did some quick calculations. "That's pretty optimistic, isn't it?"

Ronnie laughed. "That's the _pessimistic_ numbers. And as I understand it, you guys are on a deadline. If you do this yourselves, you'll be lucky to make it. I can guarantee you'll make it by fronting the money against the profits."

Brandon glanced at Rob, then at Anya. Anya nodded slightly; she knew Ronnie Harris very well, and knew that the lady was playing this straight. "This kind of decision I'll have to clear with the guys."

Ronnie smiled. "I'd be shocked if you accepted _without_ checking."

Greg peeked his head out from the corridor. "Pictures are ready," he chimed. "And they're even better than yesterday's batch." He saw the males in the room staring at him, and he blushed as he ducked back around the corner, holding his huge melons to keep them from jiggling too much. He muttered a silent oath, cursing Brandon for his trickery. His shoulders hurt, his back hurt, and these damned things bounced around at the slightest provocation. When he'd taken a momentary break, he'd discovered that the cup size was NNN; he was amazed that cups that big existed.

Ronnie leaned closer to Anya. "Your boyfriend looks a little different," she said nonchalantly. "I can't quite place my finger on it, though."

Brandon laughed, as did Anya. "Yesterday, he tricked me into having big knockers when I changed," Brandon explained. "So I decided it was payback time." Brandon was relishing the telling of the tale. "I flashed him this picture," he showed the image of the nude stripper to the ladies, "just before he swiped his card this morning."

Ronnie tilted back her head and laughed, a hearty, rib tickling laugh. She enjoyed a good prank. After the laughter died down, she looked at Brandon. "One more thing." She watched his face cloud. "Oh, no. Nothing to do with the business deal. I wondered if I could ask a personal favor. I'd like to borrow your photographer — for a private sitting. The pictures he took are very good, and I'd like to get some of me. At Bikini Beach, of course."

**********

Brandon, Rob, and the group smiled as they handed the paperwork to Dean Livingstone. Behind them, Ronnie Harris stood, a smug smile as she watched the dean be forced to accept them as a fraternity. With no ceremony on his part, he handed the group a charter, then abruptly turned and stormed from the room.

The remainder of the council, however, erupted in cheers. The boys had done it. They'd beaten the odds, and had formal charters from both the Nu Rho Delta fraternity, and from the university. And they'd gotten the loan, which enabled them to formalize the purchase of the old gym.

Anya, Greg, and Ronnie walked with them back to the gym. Inside, they had set up a table with punch and snacks. A few girls were present, which surprised Ronnie; the guys had laid on a party to celebrate their status as the newest fraternity.

Brandon handed Ronnie a glass of punch. "I'd like to say thanks, on behalf of all of us, for all your help."

Ronnie accepted the punch, then smiled. "I like being able to help. And making a few dollars from the whole deal isn't bad either."

Anya had slipped up beside them. "So how are the calendars doing?"

Ronnie started to say something, but Brandon interrupted her. "We're being sold coast-to-coast in BookMart, thanks to Ms. Harris. So far, we've made almost sixty thousand."

Ronnie smiled. "And they're almost done with the layout for the weekly calendar, too. That should sell just as well. Maybe better."

Brandon smiled broadly. "We owe you a lot," he offered. "Thanks."

Ronnie smiled mischievously. "You can start thanking me by dancing." She took the surprised Brandon's hand and dragged him to an open area. With surprise grace, she began to dance with the startled boy. She glanced to Anya, and gave her a wink. Brandon might have bitten off more than he could chew, Anya thought as she watched him dancing with the older woman.

As Anya watched, Greg and Rob sidled up beside her, Greg carrying a fresh glass of punch. She took it, then smiled. "Greg, dear, could you get me a sandwich, please?" She watched as he walked off, then turned to Rob. "Thanks for asking Greg to join. He's thrilled about the idea."

Rob smiled. "Thanks for suggesting it. Greg's a great guy, and he's got a very good sense of humor. The guys really like him."

Anya smiled. "Well, anyway, thanks. After what he's been through, belonging to a group is really good for him." Grandmother had been right; these guys were going to have a long and prosperous relationship with Bikini Beach.

**********

Epilogue:

Brandon reread the letter, just to make sure he wasn't imagining things. When he was sure he was reading it correctly, he ran out to the lounge. "Guys, you won't believe what I just got in the mail!" he shouted, struggling to contain his excitement.

The guys looked up, curious. "What's up?" Rob asked.

Brandon was fighting to contain himself; Rob hadn't seen him this excited since, well, since his first sexual experience. "The editors of a major sports magazine saw our calendar."

"So?" Chuck asked, wishing that Brandon would get on with the news. "What else?"

Brandon grinned. "They're doing their annual swimsuit issue, and, well, to get to the point," he saw how anxious the guys were to hear what the gist of the news was, "they want to use Brandi, Samantha, and Tina in their photo shoot!"

Sam stared at Brandon, his mouth agape. Tim was staring as well, equally surprised. "You're kidding, right?" he said uncertainly. Surely this was one of Brandon's gags.

"No joke," Brandon grinned. "They're offering one week in Cancun, all expenses paid, plus ten thousand cash each, and royalties if they use our pictures in any calendar!"

Sam looked thoughtful for a few moments. Then he turned to Tim. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to have to get a whole new wardrobe. I don't have anything to wear for Cancun!" He laughed, and the rest of the guys laughed with him.

Brandon looked hopefully at the two guys. "I guess this means I should call Anya about getting passes for us, right?"

FIN

Synopsis: A beach bum stumbles into Bikini Beach. During his stay, he offends some of the staff with his comments about the landscaping. Anya and Grandmother need to figure out what's up with the guest before he offends even more people.

This is a repost (first on BCTS) that appeared long ago on another site. The Chronology page shows where this fits in the timeline.

[email protected]

**********************************************************************

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Vicki sighed as she glanced one more time around the parking lot. It was after lunch, so business was slow. That made her job boring. It wouldn't have been so bad, she thought, if things either slowed down or picked up. If it slowed down, she could get some serious studying between the infrequent customers. If it picked up, she wouldn't be able to study, but she'd at least be busy enough to be distracted. Not like now. If she picked up her book to start studying, she'd get a paragraph or two into the text, and then the inevitable guest would show up. If she ignored her text, the time between customers seemed interminable.

Just as she expected, at the expected interval, she spied a figure ambling slowly across the parking lot, the figure blurred by the wavering distortion of heat rising from the hot asphalt. Still, even with that, she could tell it was a man from the way he was walking. She watched with interest as the man came closer.

As he drew nearer, Vicki sensed that he wasn't simply taking a short-cut across the parking lot. With the construction going on on the park expansion, there wasn't much of a short-cut any longer. No, she reasoned, he was coming to the park. She started to push away the boredom so she could be the happy smiling representative of the park that the boss demanded.

Vicki fought to contain her emotions as the man approached. He was a slob, she thought. Old pants, with tattered legs and a couple of holes. Fatigue pants, perhaps? A worn T-shirt with frayed sleeves. The man had an unkempt moustache and a stubbly beard, as if he hadn't shaved for four or five days. His hair was medium length, but unkempt, as if he'd made no effort to control it with a comb. He wore glasses - small round lenses in worn metal frames which seemed that they should belong to a bookkeeper, not to a beach bum. That was the phrase Vicki was searching for - beach bum. With his heavily tanned face, the guy looked like a homeless beach bum. It was impossible for Vicki to fix his age - he could have been twenty or he could have been thirty-five. She simply couldn't tell.

"Can I help you?" Vicki forced a smile as the man approached the window.

The man seemed lost in thought. "Yeah," he said simply. "A friend gave me a ticket, so I thought I'd spend a little time at your park." He handed the pass to Vicki.

Vicki groaned inwardly. She'd expected the man to be poor and unable to buy a pass, or to be put off by the membership requirements. In either case, he would have left. But he _did_ have a legitimate pass.

"Swipe the pass at the gate, then go to the men's shower on the right. After you change, remember to take a shower. Health department regulations, you know," she added.

The man glared at her, perhaps angry that she was implying something. But Vicki continued to smile sweetly. The man shrugged, then took the pass and ambled toward the gate.

**********

The girl walking down the path was so highly distracted that she bumped in to Liz, who was walking back to the Junior Life Academy to teach swimming lessons. "Excuse me," Liz said as she turned to the girl, forcing herself to be polite even when it had obviously been the girl's fault. "I didn't mean to bump into you."

"S'okay," the girl mumbled, still gazing around the path. She shook her head. "What kind of theme is this supposed to have?" she asked absently.

Liz frowned, then remembered her manners and forced a smile. "To the right is the Tropical Islands theme, where everything reminds you of a tropical paradise. To the left is the Old Man River theme, based on the old plantations and lazy rivers of the deep South."

"Hmmph," the girl snorted. "Are you sure that's what it's _supposed_ to be?" she asked caustically. She wandered off, leaving Liz standing, mouth agape, too stunned by her attitude and words to reply.

**********

Norma watched as another couple stepped to the top of the Lava Run. One of the two girls held her mat easily as she waited for her turn. The second, however, held it close to her, using it almost like a shield to hide her body. Norma smiled to herself - it was obvious that the second girl was really a guy who'd been changed for a visit to the park. When Norma gave them the signal, they flopped onto their mats and slid down the waterway.

Another pair stepped up behind them. Norma gave them a quick glance to make sure they would be okay on the ride, then she glanced down toward the bottom, watching for the 'all clear' signal.

"Hi, Norma," one of the girls called. Norma turned and looked at the smiling girl, trying to figure out who it was that recognized her.

"Don't you recognize me?" the girl asked, displaying her body like a model on the stage. She was exceptionally curvy and buxomy, with blonde hair to boot. "It's me - Greg."

"Greg?" Norma asked in a hushed voice. "Anya didn't tell me you were going to be here today."

"It's a surprise. Where is she, anyway?"

Norma shrugged. "I don't know."

The second girl sighed heavily, attracting attention. "Is it time to go yet?" she asked in an impatient voice.

Norma bit her tongue. The girl looked very unpleasant. "No. I'll let you know when it's safe," she said, guarding her words and tone.

Greg tried a different tack. " It'll only be a few seconds. You might as well enjoy the scenery while you wait."

The girl snorted again. "Why? What am I supposed to enjoy?"

Norma's mouth dropped open. "The ... tropical atmosphere," she stuttered. "It's a relaxing atmosphere."

The girl scowled. "Yeah? Well it reminds me of a tropical paradise about as much as a cactus reminds someone of a jungle. The theming really bites."

Norma sat, stunned beyond words. The girl stared at her for a moment, then saw the green flag and flopped on her mat. "It looks clear to me," she announced as she started down the slide.

**********

Jenny wiped a bead of sweat from her brow and took a long sip of lemonade. "Thanks, Belinda," she said to the girl who'd brought her the drink. Jenny was sitting on one of the verandas overlooking "Ole Man River", the lazy tubing waterway in the Wild River Fun section of the park. It was shaded, and a fan overhead turned lazily, adding a bit of breeze to the porch. With the lemonade, it was just the thing for cooling off after a hard job.

"What a dump!" a girl passing by muttered loud enough for Jenny to notice.

Jenny sprang to her feet, nearly spilling her lemonade. "Excuse me," she called to the girl as she double-timed to her side. "Did I hear you right?"

The girl stopped, then stared evenly at Jenny. "Did you hear me call this place a dump?" she asked without flinching.

Jenny scowled and nodded. There was something about this girl's attitude that bothered her. "Yeah, that's what I thought I heard."

The girl shrugged. "Well, your ears check out okay." She turned to leave.

"Wait a sec," Jenny grasped her arm lightly. "What do you mean? Don't you like the rides? Do you have some complaints?"

The girl sized up Jenny as a fighter sizes up an opponent. "You work here or something?"

"Or something."

"You responsible for the theming and atmosphere?" the girl asked bluntly.

Jenny stiffened. "No. I'm the one who makes the rides run. You got a problem with the rides?"

The girl laughed, surprising Jenny. "It's not your fault, then." She turned and marched off, leaving Jenny stunned in her wake.

**********

Anya poked her head into the office. "Grandmother," she called, "we've got a problem."

The old woman looked up from a trade journal. "You mean the 'guest' making all the rude comments?"

Anya nodded, half smiling. "I thought you said your magic was rusty and useless."

The old woman smiled. "I'm getting practice keeping up with you." She looked impassively at Anya. "So?"

Anya smiled. "I think I’m going to find this guest and have a chat with her. Find out what her complaints are."

Grandmother nodded. "Before she upsets the whole clientele?"

"Yup." Anya ducked back out the door and walked briskly toward the park. Without pausing to think, she turned toward the Tropical Lagoon; her magic was guiding her steps toward some unseen disturbance. As she walked, she considered what the staff had reported to her. The guest was extremely caustic in her comments about the park. Anya had to figure out how to defuse the client's apparently bad attitude.

Her steps took Anya to the lagoon, a large body of water surrounded by white beach, lounge chairs, and palm trees. Among the palm trees were hung many hammocks - the clientele seemed to love the feel of the hammocks swaying in the breeze. Anya slowly approached one of the hammocks.

"Hi," Anya said as she approached the girl. "Are you enjoying your stay at our park?"

The girl lowered the top of a magazine she was reading and peered over her sunglasses at Anya. She shrugged visibly. "It's okay - considering."

Anya felt annoyed by the way the girl was acting - so superior and snotty. "Considering - what, may I ask?"

The girl stared evenly at Anya for several seconds. "I suppose you work here, too."

Anya nodded. "My grandmother owns the park. I help her manage and operate it." She saw the girl frown. "And we do our best to make it the best water park in the country."

The girl shrugged. "Well, you're not doing a very good job, then, are you?" She disappeared behind her magazine.

Anya took a deep breath. This girl's attitude was downright hostile. "If you don't mind my asking," she said, forcing herself to remain calm, "it would help us improve the park if you told us precisely _where_ you found it ... lacking."

The girl looked back over the magazine. "Are you serious? You want to hear what I think is wrong?"

Anya nodded. "How can we make it better if we don't listen to our customers?"

The girl laughed. "That's a new one. Listening to customers!" She shook her head. "Okay, then, I'll tell you what I _know_ is wrong. Your theming sucks."

Anya drew back as if struck. "Excuse me?" she asked, not sure if she'd heard the girl correctly, but knowing inwardly that she had.

"The theming sucks," the girl repeated. "It bites. It's inadequate. It's sloppy. It destroys the setting. Okay?"

Anya clenched her teeth. This girl's attitude was beyond annoying - it was getting downright irritating. "Grandmother hired the best construction company to build the park."

The girl laughed. "It's not the construction. It's the atmosphere." She saw the puzzled look on Anya's face. "It's the final touches, the details, that make or break the theme and mood. And you've got the details wrong. It looks fake."

Anya frowned. "Funny, but you're the first patron who's complained about the atmosphere."

The girl laughed again. "Probably because you haven't had any professionals visit the place."

Anya started to answer, but she stopped short and her eyes narrowed. She ... sensed ... something. "You're talking about the landscaping, aren't you?"

The girl smiled. "Took you long enough to figure it out. Which is why you didn't see it. You're oblivious to the obvious. And I bet you were going to brag that the theme park association or whatever the hell is the trade group has recognized your park for having outstanding rides and character, right?"

Anya nodded and pulled a nearby chair closer. "So what makes you an expert on landscaping?" she asked as she sat down. "And what do you think is wrong?"

The girl sighed. "Look at these trees. Palm trees, right?" Anya nodded. "But they are species indigenous to North America, not to the tropics, and especially not to the Pacific islands. There should be some coconut palms in the mix, too. But you don't have any." The girl glanced up at Pele's Mountain, the hill which held the rides. "Look at that so-called mountainside. It doesn't look anything like a tropical mountainside. Where are the exotic plants? Where are the orchids and bromeliads?"

Anya frowned. "We've got the wrong climate here," she protested. "This isn't a tropical island. Just a facsimile."

The girl shook her head, sighing. "Typical attitude of a suit. Even if you're wearing a bikini instead of a suit." She took a sip of her drink. "Whoever did this didn't spend any time thinking about the climate and the plants. It's so _simple_!" she spat. "There are dozens of tropical species from all over the Pacific islands which could _thrive_ in this park. If you only took the time to find them, design the landscaping properly, and take care of them."

Anya frowned. "This is a water park, not a greenhouse. If we spend all our money on landscaping, we'll end up out of business."

"Typical suit," the girl sneered. "Watch the bottom line first, and save a few bucks by cutting corners at the customers' expense."

Anya took a deep breath to control her rising frustration and anger. "Who the hell are you anyway?" she demanded.

The girl laughed, obviously unafraid of intimidation tactics and bullying. "No one important. Just a _girl_ out for a day of fun."

"Well, it sounds like you're not having a very good time if the park is so poor, then."

The girl stopped, then she looked at Anya and smiled. "You're good," she observed, "but I'm not going to fall for that one."

Anya closed her eyes for a moment and reached out with her senses. The girl watched her, wondering what was going on, as a knowing smile slowly spread on Anya's face. Anya opened her eyes again. "Are you really happy, Trevor J. Farrington the fourth, bouncing from odd job to odd job, living the part of a homeless beach bum?"

The girl started, then she smiled and began to laugh. "I should have expected something like this. I mean, I come to a water park and I get changed into a girl. So why shouldn't the staff read minds, too?"

Anya drew back, startled. "You're ... very unique."

The girl smiled. "You mean weird?"

"Touche," Anya nodded. "Not like most people I know."

The girl shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, I guess."

"Huh?"

"Doesn't matter. I don't really care, and no one really cares about me."

Anya frowned. "You mean, no one cares about what _you_ want."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"But ... you're content? Even now, after being changed into a young lady?"

The girl started - a tiny bit. "Yeah, I guess so. I wander around, I do what I want. I guess it's okay." She sighed. "I didn't want all that stuff. I didn't want the money, or the mansion with the maid and chauffeur. I didn't want the ritzy schools. I didn't want the executive job in Dad's company."

"So, what did you want?"

The girl laughed bitterly. "That's funny. After all these years, would you believe that's the first time anyone asked me what _I_ want?" She looked curiously at Anya. "You want to finish? Or should I?"

Anya raised an eyebrow. "It's your story." This girl was getting less predictable by the moment. Truth be told, almost nothing could have distracted Anya from hearing the rest of the girl's story.

"Do you know what it's like to grow up knowing that your so-called friends are only treating you nice because of your family's money? What it's like to feel like you're in a glass cage, on display?" The girl sighed. "I _know_ that I was popular in school, but only because of Dad's money. I went to expensive schools, hung out at the country club, met the right people. But you know what? I never really cared. My folks hated the people I liked. They thought I should have friends named Ashton and William - not Rocky and Bubba." She took a sip from her glass. "I just didn't want to go to college, settle down in a smothering world, marry Buffy and have the requisite 1.85 kids, drive a Mercedes or Lexus, hang out at the yacht club and country club, and then die in a suit on the top floor of a corporate prison." She shook her head. "Does that sound like living to you?"

Anya shook her head. "Not really."

The girl cocked her head to one side. "You seem to be awfully interested in my life. Why?"

Anya smiled. "You're one of the more fascinating people I've met in ... oh, a long time. Not everyone has the courage to say no to pressure from their parents and peers."

"I dropped out of college and joined the army." The girl laughed. "I bet Dad nearly had a heart attack."

"And?"

The girl shook her head. "I hated it. The discipline wasn't bad, but I had to fight. I ... had to kill some people." Her words tailed off, and a haunted look appeared in her eyes.

"Oh." Anya didn't know what else to say.

The girl recomposed herself, seemingly upset at her momentary lapse. "I deserted. Dad's money and political connections fixed that. I went back to college, then I dropped out again. I've been wandering ever since."

Anya frowned. "But what about your folks? Don't they wonder about you?"

The girl laughed again, a bitter hollow sound. "They don't really care about me. Only about their image." She shook her head. "Every so often, one of their spies comes around to find me. That's when I move on." She smiled. "You know, I like living for myself, free and easy and unattached."

"Nobody's puppet, you mean."

"Yeah," the girl laughed. "I like planting and growing. Whenever I need some money, I can find some work gardening or tending a nursery. Growing things, not destroying them."

Anya winced. The time in the army still hurt; it was a deep festering unhealed wound. "So now what?"

The girl frowned. "I don't follow."

"What do you do now? You need food, money. Even a hermit has to eat. What are you going to do now?"

The girl shrugged. "I don't know. Things seem to take care of themselves."

Anya knew she had to play this just right. Despite the girl's attitude, there was much troubling her. "You told me that the landscaping is wrong. I could get you some work laying out some better landscaping. Especially for the new area we're adding."

The girl shook her head. "No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not a corporate stooge."

Anya smiled. "We're not exactly your typical corporation. Not unless magically altering customers has become the norm for corporations."

The girl frowned. "It might work out. But only part time." Then her frown deepened. "What about my folks? I'm not sure you want to deal with his lawyers and hired political guns."

At that moment, the old woman walked up and eased herself into a chair. "I think I've got some tricks and allies that can deal with your father's resources."

The girl started, but Anya's smile reassured her. "I'd like to introduce my grandmother, who owns this park."

The girl cautiously extended her hand. "Hi," she said simply.

Grandmother shook her hand. "Since you know we can read minds, you shouldn't be surprised that I was kind of listening in." She smiled. "So what about it? Do we have a deal?"

The girl thought for a moment, then she shook her head. "No. It's about time for me to move on - before the next spy comes to report on me."

The old woman smiled slyly. "What if we could arrange that your father's spies never found you again?"

The girl looked puzzled for a moment, then she frowned. "You mean - make this," she glanced down at her feminine body, "permanent?" She shook her head. "Isn't that kind of ... extreme?"

"Maybe. Or not. Depends on how you look at it." The old woman smiled. "So far, it seems that you're not too disturbed at having been changed."

"Yeah," the girl observed, "but I figured it was temporary. I don't know how, but that seemed ... logical ... to me." She saw the answering nod. "But permanent?"

Anya nodded. "You'd get a chance to start over. A whole new life, without being chased. You could do whatever you wanted."

The girl looked thoughtful for a moment, then she slowly shook her head. "I'm not sure. I guess ... I don't think so."

The old woman nodded slowly. "It's your choice."

Anya glanced at her grandmother, surprised. "But ... " She stopped when she felt Grandmother's hand on her arm. "Would you consider spending a few days to help us with the landscaping?"

The girl looked at her for several seconds. "Let me think about it. I'll let you know before I leave tonight." She rose from her hammock and strode slowly into the warm water of the lagoon.

Anya shook her head. "I don't understand. It was everything she wanted - to be free of her past, to start over."

The old woman sighed. "No. To her, it would be running away again." She shook her head. "Did you notice something? When she came to the park, she was belligerent, even arrogant?"

Anya nodded. "Yeah." Her brow furrowed. "But then, when she realized I was really _listening_ to her, she changed."

The old woman nodded again. "I would guess that Trevor's parents, for all they gave him, never gave him the time to _listen_ to him. When she realized that you were actually interested in what she was saying..." Her voice trailed off thoughtfully. "She's a very troubled girl. She needs to heal herself."

Anya frowned. "You ... aren't going to try to ... persuade her?"

The old woman recoiled. "Anya! I thought you were the one who kept telling me that _I_ couldn't interfere!"

Anya sighed. "I know. But ... he needs some tranquility. Some peace. Some ... freedom."

The old woman nodded. "He's a very troubled person. We can't make him accept what _we_ think is best. That's what you say, isn't it?"

Anya nodded sadly. "Yeah. I guess it is. But ..."

Grandmother sighed. "It's hard sometimes. To know you can help, but to let the person choose to not be helped." She stood. "You've been teaching me well, young lady. Now, what do _you_ see?"

Anya closed her eyes for a moment to focus. "He'll help us with the landscaping," she said softly, "because nice peaceful gardens are important to him. Even if he doesn't stay to enjoy the tranquility himself. Then he'll move on - as Trevor. Just like he always has." She shook her head as she watched the girl swimming lazily in the pool. "Ironic, isn't it? He is so determined to make a peaceful garden for others, when he needs it so much more himself."

Grandmother nodded slowly. "It's not for us to understand."

FIN

Bikini Beach - Purse Snatcher
By Ellie Dauber
Copyright 2000

Why should Elrod have all the fun of posting Bikini Beach stories? Here's another one of mine. This is the first of three related tales. I'll post the second in a few days, and, if there's a good response, I'll finally get around to writing the third.

To paraphrase the song, "You don't pull on Superman's cape. You don't spit into the wind. You don't tug the mask of the old Lone Ranger... and you certainly don't try to steal the purse of Grandmother, the nice lady who runs Bikini Beach."

Bikini Beach - Purse Snatcher
By Ellie Dauber
Copyright 2000

“C'mon, man,” Rudy said. “You got to prove yourself if you're gonna hang with us.”

“Yeah, Melvin,” Ken added. “We don't hang with no uncool guys; no yellow ones either.”

Mel Haywood sighed. This was the fifth move his family had made in three years. As always, he'd had no great luck making friends. He had thought things would be better when he met Rudy and Ken and found out that they lived in his buildings. The trouble was, they were a couple of punks.

“But why do I have to steal somebody's purse?” Mel asked one last time.

“Cause I said so,” Rudy answered. “It shows you got guts; that you can think on your feet.”

“Yeah, think on your feet,” Ken echoed, as he always did.

“Now, you're gonna do it, and do it this afternoon, Melvin, or me and Ken are gonna spread the word all over the school just what a pansy you are.”

Shit! Mel knew he was stuck. These two weren't much, but they knew enough kids at the school that they could kill any chance he might ever had of making friends here. “All right, I'll do it.”

“Now you're talking sense. C'mon, we'll head over to the Italian Market. It should be plenty crowded today, lots of good targets.”

* * * * *

The three teens headed over to the Market, about a mile and a half from their neighborhood. It was a warm Saturday afternoon, and the distance was no problem for the three sixteen-year olds. On the way they mostly made small talk. Ken and Rudy joked about their teachers and the school. Rudy had an itch for a couple of the female teachers, including Ms. Serranno, the gym teacher, whom he claimed to have already had sex with. He told a story about the two of them, though he was somewhat vague on a lot of the details.

They got to the market in the middle of the late afternoon rush, people grocery shopping mixed with a few tourists, and with people stopping to buy something for their supper. The Italian Market was about 150 years old, a mass of small, family-owned shops inside a block long two-story building. Some of the stores were in their fifth or sixth generation in the same family. It was a good place for fresh meat, fish, and produce, with a few shops actually doubling as small take-out restaurants, and food courts at the end of each floor.

“I don't know,” Mel said. “It's awful crowded.”

“Hey, that's the best time, man. A skinny dude like you can wriggle through holes in the crowd that some fat cop or old lady never could. Then you just sort of blend in with all these people till they can't even guess which way you went. It's a breeze, man.”

“Yeah, a breeze,” Ken said. “Unless you're chicken.”

“No, um, I'm cool. I'll do it.” Mel swallowed hard and started looking for a target. He passed on a couple of women in slacks and sneakers. They looked like they could run as fast as he could. Some of the women were carrying big purses, really big ones that would probably slow him down if he had to run through a crowd with it. Besides, if he had to do it, he wanted a small purse he could hide, not some monster that would make him stand out.

Finally, Rudy did the picking. Mel had just decided on not trying for the purse of an older woman who looked like she might be on social security or something from the shabbiness of her dress. “All right, already, man. What are you waiting for, somebody with a 'rob me' sign on her?” He pointed to an old woman who was standing about twenty feet away talking to a very pretty young brunette.
“There's your target, that old lady.”

Just as Mel looked, the old woman turned in his direction. She seemed to be looking right at the three of them for a moment. Then she smiled and waved at somebody in his general direction. They must have waved back because the two women started walking towards the boys.

As they'd arranged it, the boys started walking towards the women as well. When they got close, Rudy and Ken made a zig to the left while Mel reached over and grabbed the purse off the old woman's shoulder. He started running off to the right, tucking the purse inside his light brown jacket. Rudy and Ken hunched over and ran in two different directions so as to distract people and possibly draw any pursuers away from Mel.

Strangely, nobody seemed to be chasing them. The old woman didn't even say anything when Mel took her purse.

* * * * *

The boys met about ten minutes later at a Greek bakery on the second floor of the market, each arriving by a different route. They bought cokes and a half dozen big cookies covered with powered sugar and took seats at one of the tables in a corner of the nearby food court.

“So, what'd we get?” Rudy asked.

Mel took the purse out from under his jacket and laid it on the table. He looked around to see if anyone was watching. Nobody was, so he hunched over the table and, without lifting the purse, opened it.

Rudy reached over and pawed through it, spilling the contents onto the table. “Nothing!” he said in disgust. It wasn't quite true. There was a hairbrush, some make-up items, a few pieces of colored cardboard, and some kleenex(TM). There was not a wallet, a checkbook, credit cards, or cash.

There also was no ID. Mel had hoped that he could at least get the purse back to the owner somehow, even if he couldn't return the money. No chance of that now, though. He sighed. He really was a thief now. He wondered if Rudy and Ken's friendship were worth it.

They were all set to go, when Rudy idly turned over one of the pieces of cardboard. “Whoa!” he said in an excited whisper. “We got something good after all.”

“What is it?” Ken said.

“Rudy lifted the three pieces of cardboard in triumph and showed them to the others. “Three...count them, three one-month passes to that water park, Bikini Beach, and there's no names written on them.”

“Bikini Beach,” Mel asked. “What's that?”

“Man, you are new in town. It's this water park that opened across town a few months ago. They got ads and billboards all over the place; great rides and a lot of really sexy babes in real tiny suits.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard about them,” Ken said. “They say it costs a lot a money to join, or even just to buy a one-day pass. Now thanks to Rudy, here, we got us three thirty days passes.”

“Thanks to Rudy?” I was the one who grabbed that lady's purse.

“Yeah, yeah, but Rudy made you do it, and he's the one who picked the old lady out. Good eye, man. Good eye.”

“Thanks, Ken. It was a good idea.” Rudy took the passes and stuck them in a pocket inside his own jacket. “Look, it's too late to go over there today. How about we meet tomorrow about 10. We can catch the cross-town bus and spend the day at the park.”

* * * * *

The bus dropped the three boys at the stop near Bikini Beach about 10:30, Sunday morning. It was no more than a five-minute walk to the entrance. The night before, Rudy had used his father's old typewriter to type their names onto the passes, and he had handed out the passes while they were on the bus.

As they got near the park they saw an unexpected problem. The cute brunette checking memberships at the entrance had been with the old lady at the Italian Market the day before.

“Jeez,” Mel said. “What if she recognizes us?”

“Us,” Rudy laughed. “You're the one who grabbed the purse. I don't think she even noticed me and Ken.”

“Yeah,” Ken said. “We got nothing to worry about.”

“Great, but I do.”

“If you're so worried, go home. It'll leave more girls for us.”

“Yeah, Chicken, for us.”

“Shut up, Ken.” Rudy paused and looked at the brunette. “Listen, man. You grabbed that purse real slick and ran off before they could get a clear look. Right?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“And they didn't even chase us -- chase you. Chances are that chick's such a pinhead, she doesn't even remember that somebody snatched the old broad's purse. C'mon. If they do ask, we just say that we found the passes. The worst that can happen is they don't let us in.”

Rudy pulled at Melee's arm, and the three of them walked to the gate. The brunette looked up as they neared the entrance. “Sorry, boys. This is a private park.”

“We know,” Rudy said. He put on his most innocent smile, the one that always worked so well on his mother. “We have passes.” He held up his pass. Ken quickly held his up. Mel was a little slow, but he showed his as well.

“Fine then,” the brunette said. “I'm Anya. Go on in and have a good time. Just remember to shower after you put on your suits.”

“Thanks, Anya,” Rudy said. “Nice to meet you.” The three hurried in. Once they were well clear of the entrance, he whispered. “See, I said there was nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, Rudy,” Ken said. “You was right, nothing at all.”

* * * * *

The Men's Locker Room wasn't far from the entrance. The boys went in and picked three lockers fairly close together. “This is gonna be great,” Rudy said as he took of his shirt. “Thirty days. We can come here after school every day, spend the weekends here. Man, the babes will be all over the three of us.”

“Yeah, Rudy,” Ken said. “You was smart to pick that old lady's purse.”

“I'm just glad that girl at the gate didn't recognize us,” Mel said.

“It's just lucky you was the one to grab the purse,” Rudy chuckled. “She'd have remembered a guy as handsome as me.” By now, he was in his swimsuit. He tossed his towel over his shoulders and headed for the door. “See you guys outside.”

“Wait a minute,” Mel said. “We're supposed to shower first, remember.”

“That's only for guys like you with kooties.” Rudy tried the door, but the knob refused to turn “What the hell...”

Mel noticed light snap on over a sign on the wall by the door. “Please remember to shower before leaving the locker room.” He pointed to the sign. “I think they've got it rigged somehow so the door locks until you use the shower.”

“Screw that,” Rudy said, trying the door again. Ken had his swimsuit on now and went over to help Rudy. The door stayed locked. Then the showers turned on by themselves.

“The hell with it,” Rudy said. He tossed his towel on a bench and walked into the showers. Ken scurried after him. Mel shrugged and joined the other two. The showers felt nice and warm, almost like a massaging showerhead. It relaxed away some of Rudy's anger and most of Mel's tension. All three boys stayed in the shower a few moments turning slowly to get the full effect. None of them noticed the pink shading to the steam that filled the shower room.

Then, after a few minutes, the showers turned themselves off. “I guess we're done,” Rudy said. “Let's go find some babes.”

They grabbed their towels and began walking towards the door. Mel watched Rudy and Ken walking ahead of him. Something seemed to be wrong. They were - they were shrinking, getting thinner. Rudy's hair was growing down past his shoulders, and Ken's - his hair seemed to be getting more and more curly.

He wondered if anything was happening to him and looked down at his body. He saw - no, it couldn't be - he was growing breasts. “What the...” he said, surprised at the softness in his voice.

Rudy and Ken turned. 'Damn,' Mel thought, 'they had breasts, too.' The other two boys not only had breasts, but also the round hips and long slender legs of a couple of very pretty girls. Girls? They couldn't be girls.

As if with one mind, the three boys stared at each other's crotches. Their swimsuits were changing as well. Mel's “baggies” clung to his body as the legs of the swimsuit rose up before disappearing into a French cut panty. Ken's briefs now sported a lacy little skirt. The elastic waist strap on Rudy's speedos narrowed until it turned into the ties of a string bikini bottom. The three very female swimsuits only had one thing in common. They each lay flat against their wearer's crotch with no evidence of the male organs that had been there minutes before.

Their faces had changed as much as their bodies as features softened and cheekbones shifted. The scar Rudy had gotten from a fight the year before had disappeared from above his left eye. Rudy was now a blonde with long straight hair halfway down her back. Ken was a brunette with her hair a mass of curls cut short like one of those kewpie dolls they gave out at carnivals. When he looked in the mirror near the door, Mel saw a girl that might have been his sister, her brown hair cut to just above her shoulders. They were all slender girls with attractive, but not excessive figures.

“What happened to us. Rudy?” Ken said. He - no, she seemed ready to cry.

“Young ladies,” a voice came from behind them. “Nudity is not allowed here. Please put these on and follow me to my office.” It was the woman whose purse Mel had stolen. She was holding three bikini tops that looked like perfect matches for the bottoms that their male swimsuits had become.

“What'd you do to us,” Rudy asked.

“All in good time.” She tossed him one of the tops, then handed Ken and Mel the other two. “Now put these on immediately. I don't allow nudity here.” The trio put on the tops. Mel noticed that she put her own top on without any problem, as if she had always worn such things.

* * * * *

The office was nearby. It was a small room, a desk covered with papers, a file cabinet in a corner, and a few chairs near the door. Ken and Mel sat down, embarrassed at their new forms. Rudy stood defiantly beside a chair, her arms crossed just below her breasts. “Okay, lady, we're here. Now what did you do to us, and how soon are you going to undo it?”

“You are a nasty one, aren't you? Did you think you could get away with stealing my purse?”

“Ma'am,” Mel said. “I still have the purse at home. Would it help if I brought it back? There wasn't any ID in it, so I couldn't return it.”

“No, I already have it.” She reached into a drawer in the desk and pulled out what looked like an identical purse.

“Okay, lady,” Rudy said. “You got your purse, so change us back to guys and let us out of here.”

“Yeah,” Ken said. “I wanna go home.”

“Not so fast. The important fact isn't that I got it back, but that you three stole it in the first place.”

“Mel stole it,” Ken shouted.

“Yes, he did, but you two forced him to do it. Besides you were all ready to profit from what you found in the bag, those three passes.” She smiled. “You thought those passes were a reward. Actually they're your punishment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Purse snatching isn't a major crime, especially for a juvenile. Thirty days seems to be a suitable sentence.”

“Thirty days,” Mel said. “You mean...”

“Yes. The spell that changed you into girls lasts the duration of the pass plus twelve hours. You'll be girls for the next thirty days.”

“You mean we gotta spend the next thirty days as chicks,” Rudy said. “My old man won't stand for that.”

“Your father -- none of your parents -- or your families or friends won't remember you ever being anything but girls.” She pointed at Rudy. “You, you seem to be the leader of this group. What's your name?”

“Now that's a dumb question. I'm Rita, Rita Sandow -- wait a minute, that ain't right. I'm not a girl; I'm a girl. My name is Rita. Rita. Rita! Shit, I can't say my real name anymore.”

“Yes, you can, my dear, because as far as the rest of the world is concerned, your name is and always has been Rita.” She turned to the other two. “Just as you are Karen and Melanie -- and always have been. Only five people, you three, my granddaughter, and I, remember the boys that you used to be.”

“This is crazy,” Rita said. “We're leaving.”

“I wouldn't advise it. I told you the sentence was thirty days. Now, you get to decide if you want hard time, as they say, or easy time.”

“What do you mean 'hard time'?” Rudy -- now Rita asked.

Ken, Karen now, was in a panic. “I don't like this, Rita. I don't wanna do 'hard time'.”

“Easy time means you come here every day, just as you'd planned. Only, instead of lounging around and leering at girls, you'll work for me; helping behind the food stands, cleaning up after the guests, things like that.”

“And what's the 'hard time'?” Rita asked suspiciously.

“You leave here without agreeing to my terms, and you'll spend the month as just the sort of girls you were hoping to meet here.”

“So our choice is to work or not to work,” Rita said. “Hey, that's an easy one; not work. Let's get out of here.”

“You're all free to go, but I warn you all; there's serious consequences if you leave.”

“Yeah, right. We'll probably change back when we leave. C'mon, guys.”

“Oh, you'll change if you leave now. I promise you that. You're each free to go with Rita, but I remind you that it was doing things her way that got you all turned into girls in the first place.”

“I don't know about Mel,” Karen said, “but I'm sticking with Rita.” She stood up and walked over to stand next to Rita. Her arms, too, crossed naturally in front of her chest as if she had always had breasts to contend with.

“It's your choice, of course. I'll give you sixty hours to re-consider, that's till 11 PM on Tuesday. After that, you live with the consequences for the rest of the month.”

“Bullshit,” Rita said. “You coming, Melanie?”

“I think I'm going to stay here, Rita. Sorry.”

“I always knew you was a pussy.”

The two girls turned and walked out the door. Melanie thought that their bikinis seemed to be changing again, becoming skimpier, but they were gone before she could be sure.

“That was probably the smartest thing you've done in weeks, Melanie,” the old woman said with a smile. She reached into the desk drawer again and pulled out a T-shirt with the Bikini Beach logo and the word “Staff” embroidered on it. “Put this on, dear, and come with me.”

* * * * *

In a few minutes, Melanie was working near the entrance, spearing trash with a nail on the end of a stick and putting it in a large trash bag strapped to her shoulder.

“So that's 'easy time'.”

Melanie turned in the direction of the voice. Rita and Karen were standing watching her. “Where'd you get the clothes,” Melanie asked.

“It's weird,” Rita said. When we went back into the locker room, we found this stuff instead of our old clothes in the lockers. “What do you think?” She turned around so Melanie could get the full effect. She was wearing a white lycra blouse and a short wrap-around brown skirt that was tight around her hips and stopped at least six inches above her knees. She had on sandals with a one-inch heel and was wearing a thin gold bracelet on her wrist. She was also wearing make-up, and it looked like an expert had put it on.

Karen wore a clingy sky blue lightweight dress that was no longer than Rita's. She had on a pair of two-inch heels. A small glass pendant hung from a thin chain between her breasts -- were they bigger than before? Melanie wasn't sure. Karen also was wearing make-up that looked expertly done, but who had done it?

“Not bad. How'd you manage with the clothes -- getting them on, I mean?”

“It's the funniest thing. Somehow we knew how to wear all this stuff.” Rita giggled but continued as if she hadn't noticed. “I guess it's just part of the spell, like not being able to say our real names. I don't think I'll get used to it, but I guess I can live with it if I have to.”

“Yeah,” Karen added. “It's a pain, but we'll manage.”

“Enough of this shit. Karen and me are getting out of here before that old broad gets any more crazy ideas. So long, sucker.” She turned and they walked towards the entrance. Melanie noticed that they managed to walk pretty well in the heels, but as they walked, their stride seemed to become more feminine. There was even a bit of a saucy little strut to their hips as they went out the gate.

Melanie stared at the gate after her two friends left. Was it her imagination, or had they both seemed a lot more feminine? Was the same thing going to happen to her? She tried not to think about it by getting back to work, but she took a certain satisfaction in pretending that every piece of trash she stabbed was Rita or Karen.

* * * * *

Melanie had been working for about an hour and was well into the park. She heard some shouting and looked over to see a group of girls playing volleyball. The game looked like fun, and she wished she could join in. 'Better not, though,' she thought. 'I'm supposed to be working.'

She did watch for a while, and she began to realize something else. The players were all attractive young women, some of them in fairly skimpy suits. Mel would have loved watching them jiggle and shake, and he would probably have had a tough time keeping track of the score. Melanie, on the other hand, was enjoying watching the sport. The only thing she noticed about the girls - besides how well they were all playing - was how attractive their swimsuits were. 'It's not that different than if I were a boy watching a bunch of guys playing,' she thought. 'Except that I never thought about any guy's suit.'

“You'll never get finished if you keep staring at the guests.” Melanie turned. The speaker was a very pretty redhead wearing, of all things, a pair of bib overalls. She filled them out very nicely. She was carrying a heavy-looking toolbox in her left hand and stuck out her right hand for Melanie to shake. “Hi, I'm Jenny, Jenny Michaels.”

“Melanie Haywood. I just --”

“I know, she told me.” She took Melanie's hand and gave it a surprisingly firm handshake. “She thought you might know something about pumps and such. You know anything like that, kid?”

“A little; I'm - I was taking auto shop in school. I got a B on my last quiz. It was on the fuel system.”

“You still may be taking shop, even if you are a girl now. Oh, don't look so surprised. You aren't the first person to get changed by those showers, you know.”

“Are you?” Melanie looked closely at Jenny. Was there any way to tell?

“To tell the truth, that isn't the politest quest to ask.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to --”

Jenny smiled reassuringly. “Don't worry about it. I'm the one who brought the subject up. Just don't go asking anybody else, especially so soon after you meet them. Okay?” She stuck out her hand.

Okay.” Melanie shook hands with Jenny. At least she hadn't gotten somebody she worked with mad at her the first day.

Jenny pointed at what looked like a giant grass hut nearby. A blonde and brunette were unloading boxes from a hand truck in through the back entrance. “Go tell Belinda, she's the brunette over there, that I said she should take over for you on stick detail. I've got a stubborn water pump that needs to be taught its place, and it sounds like you might be able to help. Oh, and bring back a couple of diet cokes. It's a hot day.”

Melanie smiled and went over to the hut. Belinda turned out to be a rather buxom girl a few years older than Melanie. “I saw Jenny pointing at me,” she said. “I guess she's got some job for you, and I get left holding the stick.”

“I'm afraid so. Sorry.”

“At least she trusts you near the equipment. She scowls if any of us get anywhere near it.”

“Why?”

“It's a long story, and I don't know you well enough to tell you - yet.” She helped take the garbage sack off Melanie's shoulder and put it on her own. She sighed and took the stick. “See you later, Holly,” she said and started back to the trail Melanie had been cleaning.

Melanie looked at Holly, shyly. “I'm sorry to have interrupted.”

“That's all right kid. We were just about done anyway. Besides, we all have to do what the Boss says, and Jenny's one of her key people. She keeps all the equipment running. What's your name, by the way?”

“Melanie, Melanie Haywood. Umm...Jenny said I should bring some diet cokes.”

“Figures. Don't worry, there's no charge for on-duty staff - as long as you don't abuse the privilege.” She went inside and came back out with two chilled 20-ounce bottles.

Melanie took the soda and headed back over to where Jenny was waiting.

* * * * *

They spent the better part of the day working on the pump, taking about a half hour break for lunch about 1 PM. Melanie mostly just helped by handing Jenny tools or holding something that she had disconnected. Still, it was better than spearing trash, and she learned a fair bit about pumps that she probably wouldn't have gotten in shop class. She also began to make a friend.

About 5:30, Jenny said that she had to run an errand, to pick up something at a pool store in a mini-mall about two miles from Melanie's house. She offered to drive Melanie home at the same time.

“Let me ask the old woman if it's okay,” Melanie said. “Say, what is her name? I don't want to piss her off by leaving early, and I sure can't keep calling her 'the old woman' for the next 30 days.”

“I know what you mean, but I don't think I've ever heard her name in all the months that I've been working here. Anya calls her 'Grandmother', though I'm not always sure that they're really related. A lot of the rest of us call her 'Ma'am' or 'Boss'. It seems to work okay.”

“What works okay? Is that pump fixed?” They both turned at the sound.

“Hi, Boss,” Jenny said. “Yeah, it just needed a good cleaning and lube. Melanie here was a big help.”

“I thought she might be. Why don't you get the truck while she changes.” Jenny nodded and headed back towards the park office. “Melanie, it's all right for you to go home with Jenny.”

“Thanks, umm, Boss, but what do I say to my folks? How do I explain this?”

“As I told you and your so-called friends earlier, you've nothing to explain. As far as your family and friends are concerned, you've always been Melanie. The only question that they're likely to ask you is how you did today on your new part-time job.”

“New job? You mean here?”

“Certainly. You got a job here starting today; weekends 10 to 6; and 4 to 9 weekdays after school. You get off Fridays and when the park closes for bad weather.” She smiled at Melanie's surprised expression. Now go get into your street clothes - unless you want to go home in that bikini.”

“No, of course not.”

“I didn't think so. You'll find that the soap in the dispensers in the locker room will get rid of the grease and dirt on your hands and arm. You can even use the showers. It won't affect you again, I promise.”

“Thanks, Boss, but I'd better hurry. I don't want to keep Jenny waiting. Please tell her that I'll be ready in about 20 minutes.” She gave a cheery wave and headed for the locker room.

Melanie stripped off the T-shirt, hanging it in her locker. There were a couple of sinks with mirrors near the showers. She worked up a good lather and rubbed it on her face and arms. The soap had a sweet floral smell, more like hand cream than soap, but it worked as well as that awful glop they had in the auto shop at school. It smelled a lot better though. It had a pretty floral scent that she didn't remember from earlier in the day. When she washed off the lather, her skin was absolutely clean. Even better, it didn't sting her skin like the stuff at school sometimes did. Some of the scent stayed with her, too.

Now came the tough part. She took off her suit, trying hard not to look at her new body. She hesitated a little before reaching into the locker. After seeing the way Rudy and Ken - no, better think of them as Rita and Karen now; that's who they were for the next month - after seeing they way they had dressed, she wasn't sure about putting on such feminine, downright sexy, clothes.

Only, they weren't very feminine. Melanie found a rather plain blue cotton panty and matching bra. She stepped into the panty and pulled it up around her hips. It fit smoothly on her hips, against her flat groin, and felt so soft and cool, so different from the shorts Mel had worn.

She put her arms through the straps of the bra and pulled them up onto her shoulders. Her breasts fit naturally into the cups, and she reached behind herself to fasten the clasps as if it were second nature. The feeling of the silky material against her sensitive nipples was amazing, and the support that the bra gave to her new breasts was somehow comforting.

Melanie was even happier to discover a loose-fitting short sleeve green blouse and a pair of brown jeans in the locker. They were hardly what she'd been expecting. In fact, they were just the feminine counterparts to the shirt and jeans that Mel had put on this morning. So was the footwear, a pair of girl's socks and sneakers, rather than the heels that Rita and Karen had worn.

Melanie was curious, but something told her not to ask too many questions. She tossed the staff T-shirt into her swim bag. There was a purse underneath with her wallet inside. Her school ID had the same information as always, except that it was made out to Melanie Anne Haywood, instead of Melvin Andrew. It was getting spooky how thorough the - the Boss's magic was.

* * * * *

Jenny was waiting just outside the gate. She was driving a green van with the Bikini Beach logo on the side. “Hop in,” she said. “You don't have to come with me to the store. I'm only picking up a small piece of equipment. You'd better tell me where you live, too. The Boss just said it was somewhere near the store; she just didn't give me the exact address.”

Melanie told her. “Oh, yeah,” Jenny said. “I know the neighborhood. I can drop you there, then go to the store. I used to live there in one of old man Walker's buildings.”

“Mr. Walker? He's gone.”

“Gone? What, did that S.O.B. finally die?”

“Better. The city got him for endangerment because of the conditions in some of his buildings. He's in prison now. It happened just after we moved in, and the whole neighborhood was talking about it. Some developer named Harris bought up the buildings for a song.”

“Harris? Ronnie Harris bought those buildings?” She let out a hearty laugh.

“You know him, Mr. Harris?”

“Yep, and it's Ms. Harris. She owns those condos across from the park. I live in one of them, in fact, and she has a lifetime membership here at the park.”

“Is she...was he...like me?”

“That's a rather personal question, hon. Look, the great majority of the members were born female. The Boss built the place, so they could have somewhere to go and relax without being ogled by men. The transformation magic just part of that protection.”

“Some protection. Look what it did to me and my friends.”

“I'd say that you three asked for it. Purse snatching is against the law, you know.”

“I know, and I really didn't want to do it. But Rudy egged me on. He said that he and Ken would spread the word all over the school that I was a chicken. I'm...we're new in town. I haven't had much of a chance to make many friends.” She seemed almost ready to cry.

Jenny took Melanie's hand and squeezed it. “Well, you have another one now, Hon, and don't worry, things may be different now.”

“How different?”

“I don't know, but you're Melanie, now, and her life is different from Mel's. Not better; not worse; just different. You'll just have to wait and see how it's different.”

“I guess - hey, we're here.” The van pulled up in front of Melanie's apartment house. She jumped out of the van and waved as Jenny pulled away. She sighed and went in. “'Wait and see.' I think the wait's about over.”

She rode up to her family's 8th floor apartment nervously. How could she possibly explain what had happened to her parents? And Lenny, what kind of grief was her 10-year old kid brother going to give her? Melanie braced herself for the worst as she let herself into the apartment.

“Hey, Mel,” Lenny looked up from the TV show he was watching. “How'd the new job go?”

“Okay, I guess.” She took a deep breath. “Hey, squirt, I look any different to you?”

The boy stared at his sister for a minute. “Nah, same as always. Why?”

“I don't know. Just asking.” It was true! The world had changed around her. She shrugged, a little confused at the enormity of the change, and headed for her room.

And it was her room. There was no trace of Mel in the flowered bedspread and ruffled curtains. The basketball posters on the walls were gone, too, replaced with pictures of the U.S women's soccer team; not sexy posters, like the captain after she took her blouse off, but action pictures of the team in play. Mel's dresser was in the same place as before, but now it was painted a pale blue, and there was a small tray of make-up on top. She glanced over to the closet. The door was open, and Melanie could see dresses and skirts in there with a few pairs of jeans or slacks. She shook her head and sat down on the bed in disbelief. It was true! As far as the world was concerned, she was Melanie Haywood and always had been.

She ate dinner in silence, much to the amusement of her parents. “She's just like her old man,” her father said. “Put in a good day's work, and she's too tired to do anything but eat.” He laughed heartily. Jack Haywood was a master electronics technician, a civilian contractor for the Navy who traveled with his family from job to job. At the moment, he was helping design and build the guidance component for a new type of radar navigation and tracking system. The job was expected to take about twenty-two months, then they'd be off to someplace else.

Melanie pushed herself away from the table. “I'm - I'm done, I guess.” The changes were beginning to get to her. “I've got homework to do.” She went into her bedroom. Her book bag - her pink book bag - was waiting on her desk. She pulled out the geometry text and began working on the first problem.

* * * * *

Three hours later, her mother knocked on the door. “Melanie, dear. It's almost 11. You should be getting ready for bed.”

Melanie looked up from the history notes she was reviewing. Mel had always been a fairly good student. At least, that hadn't changed. She put the book down, yawned, and stretched. It was late. She stood up and started unbuttoning her blouse. She fumbled with the buttons a little, they were on the wrong side, after all, but got it undone quickly enough.

As she took off the blouse, she stared down at her breasts, secure within the bra. Mel had always enjoyed looking at a girl's breasts, but he never expected to see them from this angle. 'Better get used to them,' she thought. 'They'll be there for the next thirty days.'

After she had stepped out of her sneakers and jeans, she looked for a pair of pajamas, but could only find a frilly pink nightgown. She wasn't quite ready for anything that feminine. It was a warm night, so she decided to sleep in her underwear. She climbed into bed and was asleep almost at once.

* * * * *

Morning came fast, too fast. The alarm by Melanie's bed woke her at 6:45 instead of 7:15. She wondered why, even as she realized that it was set to a music station instead of the sports channel Mel had listened to. She looked around the room; it was as feminine as ever. A quick glance under the covers told her that so was she.

With a sigh, she climbed out of bed and threw on a white robe hanging on a hook on the back of the door. She padded down the hall and into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and took of the robe.

There it was, reflected in the mirror above the sink, a girl's body, her body, displayed in pretty undies. Mel had let himself get talked into doing something really stupid, and she was the result. Melanie felt embarrassed. Then she felt mad. If she was going to be stuck like this for a month, she was damned if she was going to let it get the best of her. She's show Rita, the...Boss, all of them. She'd get through it.

And when she and Rita and Karen were guys again, she was going to beat the crap out of the both of them!

Now that that was settled, she felt better somehow. She went through the morning routine, only realizing later that she had used a moisturizing soap and a perfumed body talc that she'd never seen before. She did notice that her straight razor had somehow turned into a pink Lady Schick and that her deodorant was now Ice Blue Secret. 'The Boss certainly covered everything,' she thought.

There was a hamper for dirty clothes near the door. Melanie sighed, another moment of truth. She reached behind her back and unclasped the bra. It slid off her shoulders and down into her hand as if of its own free will. She tossed it into the hamper and reached down to grasp her panties. She could feel the weight of her breasts as she leaned over to step out of the panties. It felt really weird, she decided. She put the robe back on, knotting it tight at her waist and headed back to her bedroom.

Melanie took off her robe and opened the dresser drawer. She picked out a matching yellow bra and panty set. They were a bit fancier than what she'd worn, a little sheerer with lace swirls on the bra cups and on the gusset of the panty. She remembered to put the bra on first, then stepped into the panty.

She took a yellow-green blouse off a hanger and put it on. This time, she had no trouble with the buttons. Melanie thought about wearing jeans, but she decided to force herself to face facts. She found a green skirt that she knew somehow would look good with the blouse. She stepped into it, pulled it up and buttoned it at the waist. It was a little tight, accentuating the curve of her hips and the narrowness of her waist.

Pantyhose? No, the skirt was feminine enough, she decided. Melanie found a pair of green socks that went about halfway to the knee. Then she checked for shoes - gad! How many pairs did she have? She slipped on a pair of green flats, not wanting to try heels without a little practice.

Now came the risky part. Melanie went over to the tray with her make-up. She picked a pale pink lipstick and applied it carefully, surprising herself again at her skill. A little blusher on the cheeks and she felt she was ready. No, one more thing, she found a thin silver necklace and slipped it over her head. She automatically lifted her hair and let the necklace slide down against her neck. She looked in the mirror and smiled at the pretty girl she saw reflected.

* * * * *

Melanie took a deep breath as she walked into the school. She was getting used to the fact that everyone remembered her as a girl. Still, she half expected somebody to yell “Queer!” at her or to start laughing at her for wearing a dress and trying to pass as a girl. When nobody did, she almost felt disappointed.

There was a crowd gathered down one hall. She could hear a bunch of people laughing at something, and she decided to see what was going on. About a half dozen guys were coming on to a pair of great looking babes, a blonde and a brunette wearing tight, very short skirts.

As she got closer, she could hear their voices. “C'mon, Rita, say you'll go out with me.”

“Hey, Karen, if Rita goes out with Jack, you can double with me.”

“No, man, I'm taking her out.”

“I am, or better yet, all of you come over to my place this Friday. My folks are gonna be out of town. We can party real good.”

Melanie was amazed. Those two girls were Rita and Karen. It couldn't be. 'They must hate being hit on like that,' Melanie thought.

Then, above the boys' voices, Melanie heard Rita saying, “Oh, you boys. You stop fighting over Karen and me.”

“Don't you like it,” one of the boys said.

Rita giggled - giggled! “Of course, I do. It makes me feel all warm inside, but we have to get to class now.” She threw them a kiss as she and Karen headed off to first period.

Melanie stared at them in disbelief, then she hurried after them. First period was geometry, the one class the three of them shared. Melanie had checked her schedule the night before. She was still in all the same classes. Even auto shop; Jenny had been right about that.

They all reached the classroom at about the same time. Rita and Karen had a head start, but Melanie could move faster in her flats than the other two could in their three inch heels. They way they walked in those heels, hips swinging back and forth invitingly, had been more amazing than the fact that they could manage to get anyplace in those shoes without falling over.

“What's with you guys,” she whispered.

“It's the spell that old woman put on us,” Rita said. “These outfits are about the least sexy clothes we could find - don't even ask about our underwear. My closet looks like a Victoria's Secret catalog.”

“Yeah,” Karen added. “And we get all giggly and flirty around the guys. We can't seem to help ourselves.”

“Isn't it like that with you, too, Melanie?” Rita asked. Then Rita took her first good look at Melanie. “Hey, how come you're dressed like little miss homebody?”

“It's the Bo-the old woman's spell,” Melanie said with a sudden understanding. “I agreed to her terms, so she's going easy on me. You guys didn't, so she's got you acting like a couple of hot-to-trot babes.”

“Bull,” Rita said. “If she thinks she can get us to come crawling to her by pulling something like that on us, she's even crazier than I thought she was. Right, Karen?”

“I - I don't know...”

“I said, 'Right, Karen.’ ”

“Yeah, I guess - I mean, right, Rita.”

“Good. Then the subject's closed.” Rita walked into the classroom while Karen hurried to catch up.

* * * * *

The rest of the morning went fairly smoothly. Some of girls that Melanie passed in the halls smiled at her. So did one or two of the boys. That bothered her a little, especially when she caught herself smiling back shyly.

Melanie was a little unnerved by it all when the bell rang for lunch. After she'd bought lunch, she walked out into the cafeteria looking for a place to sit. Mel had usually eaten with Rudy and Ken and a few of their friends, but Melanie saw that Rita and Karen were surrounded by a crowd of boys. Even if she had wanted to sit with them, there didn't seem to be any empty seats at their table; not much standing room, either.

“Hey, Melanie, over here.”

Melanie turned automatically. It was one of the girls who'd smiled at her when they passed in the hall. Dana Something - 'Dana Wynn,' a voice in Melanie's mind told her. She walked over to where Dana was sitting with two other girls. 'Stacy Brenner and Tina Feldman,' the voice said.

“Hi, Melanie. How was your weekend?” Stacy asked.

“Umm, different.”

“Ooh, and what exactly did you and Ed do that was 'different'?” Dana asked.

“Ed?”

“Where is your head, Melanie? Ed, Ed Nathanson. The two of you had a date last Saturday night.”

Melanie knew Ed. He was in a couple of Mel's classes. They'd worked together in one of those “team projects” that Mr. O'Brien, their U.S. history teacher liked to run. They'd hit it off and hung out together a few times since. In the new reality, they must have really hit it off and begun dating.

She remembered Ed as a friendly guy with the cutest grin and big brown “puppy dog” eyes. Wait a minute, what was she thinking? She felt her face grow warm. “No-nothing, it was just a date. We went to see a movie, that's all.”

“Uh huhn,” Tina said. “Just a movie.” She giggled, and the other two joined her. “We know you didn't do anything, girl. You're way too straight. We're just giving you a hard time.”

“Sure,” Stacy added. “What are friends for if not to give each other a hard time?”

Melanie set her tray on the table and sat down next to Dana. Somehow, she felt comfortable with these girls. 'That must have been what Jenny meant,' she thought. 'Mel really didn't have any friends, but Melanie does.”

The girls talked as they ate lunch. Tina was a “fashion geek”, at least that's what Dana called her at one point. She had a couple of teen magazines in her book bag, and she was showing the other girls articles and giving her opinions on the different clothes. Melanie listened without offering many opinions. A few times, though, she did find herself wondering how she would look in some of the different outfits.

“I think you'd look good in that one, Stacy.” The girls looked up from the magazine article on capri pants. Jeff Hogan stood there smiling and pointing at one of the pictures. Ed Nathanson, Harry Weiss, and Tom Brill were standing with to him.

Stacy beamed up at him. “Do you really think so?”

“Yep, what do you think, Tom?”

“I think Dana would look good in anything she wore.”

“Flatterer,” Dana said. She reached out and took Tom's hand and squeezed it gently.

Ed looked at Harry. “I guess we have to say something nice about our girls now.” He winked.

“Yeah, but what is there to say?”

“Thanks a lot,” Tina said.

Harry continued. “I mean, after you say that you think she's the prettiest girl in the school and how lucky you think you are to be dating her, what else is there to say?”

“Good save,” Ed said. “And, you know, I feel pretty much the same about Melanie.”

Tina tried to frown, but giggled and broke into a happy grin. “You two just saved yourselves from a very lonely week.” Melanie smiled, too. Ed was looking at her. She found that she liked him looking at her. Her whole body was starting to tingle from it.

Ed pulled a chair over from a nearby table and sat down next to Melanie. “I tried to call you yesterday,” he said. “I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed our date, but your folks said that you were working at that new job you just started. Did they tell you I called?”

Melanie thought quickly. “Umm, no, but I got home a little late last night. I ate and went right in to do my homework. I guess mom and dad didn't want me to stop and call you. By the time I was done, it was too late to call.” She reached out without thinking and touched his arm to comfort him. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not - well, I am, but I understand, I guess. I just hope I'm going to be able to spend time with you.” He frowned for a moment then brightened. “Hey, how much does it cost to join that place? Maybe I can swing a membership and spend time with you that way.”

“No!” Melanie caught her breath. She liked Ed too much to have him changed into a girl. “I...I mean, the park is for girls only. My Boss says she built it, so girls could have a place to relax without guys. You know, watching them.”

“Hey, not to worry, I don't notice other girls when you're around.” Ed took Melanie's hand. They both knew that he was laying it on a little thick, but she found that she seemed to be enjoying it. “Seriously, I do want to take you out again next weekend. Are you going to be able to make it?”

“Yes, and thank you for asking so nicely. I only work till 6 on Saturdays and Sundays. I stayed a little late yesterday to help out on repairing a pump.”

“Great. Then we --” Ed was interrupted by a bell.

“Better get to class,” Dana said. They quickly put their trays in a rack near the door and headed to their respective classes. Melanie found that Tina and Jeff were in Spanish class with her.

* * * * *

Last period was study hall. Mel had always used the time to try to get some of his homework done, and Melanie wanted to stay in the habit. She was working on a geometry problem when she heard a whisper from the next seat.

“Melanie, are you going to go back there again today?” It was Karen. Mr. Snitter, the teacher in charge, was Acting Assistant Principal, and he had left the room on a short errand. Karen had shifted over from her usual seat.

“Yeah, I don't think I have a choice.” The part she left unsaid was “unless I want to end up like you and Rita.” She looked at Karen, sitting there in a skirt that came almost to her -- good grief! She hadn't noticed earlier, but Karen was wearing stockings and a garter belt. Melanie could see the garter tab hooked onto one of the patterned stockings. The way she way sitting, Karen showed a nice bit of thigh above the stocking, too. Ken had always had a thing for girls who wore garter belts, now he was one. Maybe that was the point of the Boss' spell. She had the other two acting like their own sexual fantasies.

“Look, Karen,” Melanie said. “Why don't you come with me to the park after school today? Maybe you can apologize.”

“No. It...it would really piss Rita off if I did.”

“So? She can come, too.”

“Never. At least that's what she said. She's already pissed off at what the old lady did, and she says she'll be damned if she's going to kiss ass and apologize. She's gonna rough it out for the month.”

“Just because she's feeling that way doesn't mean you have to go along with her, does it?”

“I don't know. I always went along with what she said; ever since we was little kids.”

“Yeah, and listening to Rita is how we all got to be girls in the first place. Maybe it's time you stopped going along with her lame ideas.”

“I don't know. Let me think about it.”

“Okay, but don't think too long. The old lady said you guys only had until tomorrow night to change your minds.”

Before Melanie could say anything else, Mr. Snitter came back into the room. Karen and several others, who had switched seats while he was gone, scurried back to their assigned seats for the remainder of the period.

* * * * *

Melanie got to the park about 5 minutes before 4 PM. She signed in on a crew sheet at the gate. The same brunette who had been working the gate yesterday was on duty. “Hi, Melanie,” she said. “Glad you decided to come back.”

Melanie smiled then remembered that this was also the girl who'd been with the Boss when Mel had snatched the Boss's purse. “I don't think I had much of a choice.”

“Sure you did. The same choice that Rita and Karen still have till tomorrow night.” She offered Melanie her hand. “I'm Anya, by the way. She's my grandmother.”

“Um, hi. I'm sorry about what happened.” Melanie shook her hand cautiously. Anya seemed friendly enough, but she was the Boss's granddaughter.

“Don't be. I'm sure it'll work out. Or, rather, Grandmother will make sure that it works out.”

“Yeah, I guess she will.”

“Well, you better go change. You can use the Ladies' Locker Room now. Grandmother said to tell you that she wants you helping out over by the Junior Lifeguard Academy. A mother's throwing a birthday party for her nine-year-old twins. A lot of their friends are going to be here for the afternoon.”

“Twins, neat.”

Anya giggled. “Yeah, but there'll be about twenty noisy kids in here with them. After you change, head over that way and look for the tent with the balloons. The brace yourself for a really busy afternoon. You better hurry, too. The party starts at 4:30.”

“Okay, Anya, and thanks.” Melanie waved goodbye and headed for the Ladies' Locker Room. It was empty, which was good because she didn't think she was quite ready to change clothes in front of other women -- or to watch them change clothes. “That'll come soon enough,” she said aloud.

She stripped down and stuck her clothes in a locker. She put on her swimsuit, the bikini from the day before, without any trouble, not even hesitating with the clasp for the top. Melanie didn't expect to go swimming, but she decided that the rule about showers probably still applied. She took a quick run-in-run-out shower, then toweled herself dry before putting on the staff T-shirt.

* * * * *

The Lifeguard Academy was easy to find, there were brightly colored signs along the paths in the park. As Melanie came near, she saw a mass of balloons floating above a twenty by thirty rental tent set up between the Lifeguard Academy pool and the paddleboat dock. 'That must be it,' she thought and headed over. There were already two staffers in the tent, setting things up. One was, Belinda, the brunette who had replaced her at trash pick-up the day before. The other was an auburn beauty about the same age. Melanie found herself noticing the way the girl's short haircut framed her face and wondered about getting her own hair cut that way.

“Hi, umm, Melanie, is it? The Boss said we were going to have help with the party. I guess you're it.”

“Yeah, it's Melanie, and you're...Belinda, right?”

The other girl pushed her bangs away from her forehead. “She is, and I'm Marta. Hi.” She pointed at a stack of soda cans in a corner of the tent next to a large portable electric cooler. “Can you put that soda in the cooler, about a dozen cans of each kind for a start?”

“Sure.” Melanie went over to the soda. Cans of coke, orange, root beer, and some generic lemon-lime mix were stacked on cardboard trays, 24 cans to the row, in six-packs with plastic connectors. She took two six packs of coke and put them into the commercial cooler nearby.

“Take off the plastic,” Marta said. “When the kids come over, it'll be quicker if that's already done.”

“Right,” Melanie said. She pulled the plastic off the cans and tossed it into a trash box next to the cooler. While she worked, she watched Belinda setting up the grill just outside the tent. There were several white refrigerator boxes labels “burgers” and “franks” standing on a long table a foot or so away. Marta was unpacking paper bags filled with chips, pretzels, paper plates, straws, and napkins.

The guests of honor arrived with their mother, a cheery woman about thirty wearing a pair of jeans and a PBS “Fawlty Towers” tee top. The girls were already in matching green and blue swimsuits. “Girls,” she said pushing two identical nine-year olds forward. “These nice ladies are Belinda and Marta and - I'm sorry I don't know your name.”

“Melanie, ma'am. Melanie Haywood.”

“Girls, this is Belinda and Marta and Melanie. They'll be helping at your party today. What do you say to them?”

“Thank you,” one of the girls mumbled. The other seemed to be clenching her teeth to keep from saying anything.

“You're very welcome, girls,” Belinda said. “What are your names?”

“I'm Angie,” the mumbler said. “This is Amy. We're nine today.”

“I know,” Belinda said. “Happy Birthday.”

“Can we go now?” Amy suddenly said.

“Yes, dear,” the mother said. She watched the twins grab their swim bags and run for the locker rooms. “Kids, they're so, so eager, but I'm sure you were that way when you were little girls their age.”

Belinda looked a little uncomfortable. “Yes, ma'am, I guess we were.”

“Well, I might as well go change into a suit myself.” She started off then stopped and turned. “By the way, I'm Mrs. Connolly.” She waved and continued walking without another word.

“Well, that was sweet,” Marta said.

“C'mon, Marta,” Belinda said. “Give her a break. She was trying to be nice.”

“I suppose. She's got the rest of the afternoon to prove it.”

The guests started arriving about ten minutes later. They put their presents on another long table and went to change into swimming gear.

By now, Melanie had the soda in the cooler, with the other soda close by to replace as needed. “I'm done,” she said. “What's next?”

“Next is those tables,” Marta said. She pointed to a stack of six folding tables in a corner of the tent. There were several big stacks of folding chairs near them on the grass. “We set them up in two rows of three tables each. Then those chairs go around them, four to a table.”

Melanie and Belinda set up the tables and chairs while Marta worked at the grill. As they worked, they talked. Marta and Belinda were about twenty, students at the local college majoring in Business and Computer Science. They'd been working for the Boss for a couple months, though Belinda didn't want to talk about that very much. Melanie wasn't sure how to make small talk as a girl, but she found that Belinda was also a baseball fan. They spent about an hour arguing about the prospect of various teams for the current season.

Just in time, everything was set up and ready. A horde of wet little girls wrapped in beach towels came into the tent. They lined up by the grill, and Marta and Belinda were hard pressed to get the burgers and hot dogs onto plates fast enough. Melanie stood by the cooler passing out cans of soda. Before the girls had come in from swimming, Melanie had put out a bowl of chips at each table, so the girls just helped themselves. The girls settled down to their suppers, while Belinda, Marta, and Melanie sat in chairs near the grill waiting to be asked for more food.

Mrs. Connolly looked up from watching her daughters eat. She stood up and came over to where the three workers sat. “I'm sorry, girls. You must be hungry, too, from setting everything up. There's more than enough food, so, please, help yourselves.”

“Thanks, ma'am,” Marta said. “To tell the truth we are kind of hungry.”

The trio fixed themselves suppers and sat back down by the grill. If any of the kids came back for more, there was still plenty of food left. A couple of the girls did come back for seconds. Then Mrs. Connolly lit the candles on a cake, and all the girls sang “Happy Birthday.” Belinda, Marta, and Melanie helped hand out the cake afterwards. They each took a piece for themselves and went back to finish eating while the kids ooh and aahed over the presents.

Anya came into the tent. “Okay, girls. Grandmother says it's time for your break. Head back to the office. I've got a couple of other girls coming to relieve you.”

“What about the party,” Melanie asked. Don't we have to stay and clean up?”

“There'll be time for that,” Belinda said. “Did you bring your schoolbooks?”

“Yeah, there're in the Locker Room, but...”

“The Boss says she doesn't want stupid people working for her. She gives us an hour or so break every night during the week to study or do homework.”

“I hear McDonald's has something like that for the kids that work for them,” Marta added.

Melanie ran back to the Women's Locker Room and fetched her book bag. Belinda and Marta were waiting in a small “conference room” next to the office. Melanie spread her books out on a section of the long table and spent the next hour wrestling with the theory of auto transmissions. After which, they went back to the tent. Holly, the blonde who'd been working with Belinda the day before and another girl, who introduced herself as Norma, were waiting.

“The Boss says we get to help with the clean-up,” Norma said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Looks like we're needed.” She was correct. The little girls had left a mess of paper plates, wrapping papers and ribbons, soda cans, and partially eaten food inside the tent.

Holly and Melanie took sticks and trash bags and began walking around spearing trash off the ground, while Norma and Marta cleaned up the tables. Belinda emptied the coals from the grill and began taking it down. They folded the tables and chairs, piling them onto hand trucks that were waiting behind the tent. They loaded the grill, cooler, cooking gear, and leftover plates, cups, and plastic ware onto a smaller hand truck.

Mrs. Connolly seemed to have taken all the leftover food with her, but she'd left an envelope marked “For the Girls” next to the grill. There were twenty-five dollars inside. “Tips,” Norma said. “I love them.” Each girl took one of the five-dollar bills, and they pushed the hand trucks back towards the office.

They had just unloaded everything into a storage room at one end of the building, when Anya came by. “Grandmother said you can all go home now. You were a big help with the party.”

“But my bus won't be coming by for about forty minutes,” Melanie said.

“Where do you live, kid,” Norma asked. When Melanie told her, Norma turned to Marta. “That's not much out of our way. Why don't we give Melanie a lift home? There's enough room in your van.”

“Hey, why not,” Marta said.

“Thanks,” Melanie said.

“Hey, we all work together. Why not? Heck, we can do it every night - unless you've got a boyfriend coming for you.”

She thought of Ed for a moment, but she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to think of him as “friend” or “boyfriend”. She did know what he wanted her to think, though. “No, umm, no, I don't.”

“A pretty little thing like you? That's a surprise.”

“We don't have boyfriends either, Marta,” Holly said, nudging her in the ribs. “Remember.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I'm sorry, Melanie.” She looked at Melanie as if seeing her for the first time. “I'm really sorry.”

Melanie looked closely at the older girls. Did they know? Or...or were they transformed guys the same as she was? She thought about asking, but decided not to press. It might be better to not know. “That's okay, no hard feelings.”

As they went in to change, Melanie suddenly realized that she was about to watch four babes get naked in front of her. She smiled in anticipation. Then she frowned. The idea didn't seem to do anything for her. It was like her body was numb. No, worse. It didn't care; not even when she saw the real thing. She watched as Belinda, only three lockers away, unfastened her bra, letting her breasts sway free; and later as Norma, almost as close, wriggled out of her one-piece suit and stood there, stretching as if she were on display in a centerfold. Nothing.

Why should she be aroused? Wasn't she a girl, too? Dammit!

* * * * *

“Melanie!” Stacy waved at Melanie as she got off the bus the next morning. “Rita Sandowsky and Karen Geller live in your building, don't they?”

“Umm, yeah. Why?”

“I was just wondering if you'd heard anything about last night?”

“Not really. At least my folk didn't say anything when I got home from work last night. What happened?”

“They got arrested or something. They went into Hannigan's, you know, the bar over on Woodbine Street.”

“I know the place.” Rudy had boasted that he had fake ID, and that he could get them all served at the bar. The reason that they'd stolen the purse had been to get some money to pay for their drinks. Melanie guessed that they had somehow gotten the cash to go in the night before.

“The bartender tried to throw them out after he figured out that they weren't legal age. Somebody tried to stop him, and there was a big fight. They called the cops and everything.”

Jeff Hogan came over. He said “Hi” to Melanie and kissed Stacy lightly on the cheek. “Well, if they busted Rita and Karen last night, they let them out again.” He pointed towards the entrance to the school. “There they are.”

Melanie looked to where he was pointing. Both girls were standing near the steps surrounded by a crowd that was mostly male. Rita seemed to be telling a story - it was too far away to hear - from the way her hands and arms were moving. She finished, it seemed, and the crowd seemed to laugh at whatever she'd said.

Curious, Melanie walked over. It was easy to see why the boys in the crowd were so attentive. Rita was wearing a tight black dress that barely went below her hips and hugged her curves as if it had been painted on. Karen was in a dark green dress that was almost down to her knees, but with a neckline that seemed to stop just above her nipples. 'She can't be wearing a bra with that,' Melanie thought. Both girls balanced on three-inch heels.

The bell rang before Melanie could say anything. “We have to get to class,” Rita said. “But we'll be glad to tell you more about last night at lunch. That is, if one of you cute boys is buying lunch.” Several boys reached for their wallets. Rita giggled and looked at them through half-closed eyes. “I just love generous men. They make me all...tingly.”

She turned and walked up the steps, Karen along side her. A few of the boys headed to their own classes, but others stayed to watch. Both girls walked with a “stripper's strut”. You could see quite a bit of leg -- and maybe a bit of Rita's ass -- from the bottom of the steps. It was worth the risk of being late to stay for the show.

Melanie hurried after her friends. She could hear a groan or two as she got close enough to block the view of some of the boys. “What are you two doing,” she asked once they were in the building. “And what's this about last night?”

Rita giggled again. So did Karen. It was scary how much they seemed to be getting into their new roles.

“I got to thinking about Hannigan's yesterday. Guys need money to go into a bar, but a pretty girl, she can always get a guy to buy her drinks. Especially if he thinks he's gonna get something in return. I already had the fake IDs.”

“They didn't disappear from the magic?”

“Nope. That old broad is too thorough. The pictures on them just changed to what Karen and I look like now. Anyway, I told Karen we was going. We got all fixed up, so we looked legal, and headed over the bar.”

“Yeah,” Karen said, “and it would have worked, too, except for Susie Shaw.”

“Susie,” Melanie asked. “What did she have to do with it?”

“Didn't you know,” Rita said. “Susie's cousin owns Hannigan's. Susie works there on and off. Me and Karen was doing okay. These two big guys were talking to us, even buying us each a beer.”

“Yeah, the one guy, Tony, I think his name was, even was talking about buying dinner for us.”

“Then Susie comes out from the back to clean up some of the tables or something. She must have recognized us, cause she went right over and talked to the bartender. Then the bartender comes over and asks for ID. He took one look at the cards and said we had to leave.”

“Only Tony and his buddy don't want us to leave, and they start arguing with the bartender. Somebody threw a punch, and WHAM! The whole bar is fighting. The cops showed up and arrested the bunch of us.”

Karen giggled. “Tony was sure pissed at us for being jailbait, and the cops wanted to throw us into juvenile hall.”

“Yeah, and my old man was even more pissed when the cops called him to come get us. He said it was all a big mistake, and his 'little girl' would never be in a bar doing what the cops said.” Rita paused. “Like he had a clue.”

The bell rang again, starting the class period, and the three girls ran for their seats. Melanie could barely believe it. Rita and Karen still knew who they really were, but they were acting like a couple of -- well, like a couple of bimbos. It was the spell, she realized. If she hadn't agreed to work at the park, she'd be wearing clothes like that, acting like that, and there would have been three girls at Hannigan's.

Melanie sighed and looked at the two girls. Rita was just staring out the window. Karen was at least trying to take notes, though Melanie could see her doodling as much as she was writing. They may not deserve it, Melanie thought, but she was going to try to get them to go with her to see the Boss this afternoon. From what the Boss had said, today was their last chance.

Having settled that, Melanie looked towards the blackboard and tried to follow what the teacher was saying about congruent triangles.

* * * * *

Melanie had tried to talk to Rita and Karen at lunch, but they were surrounded by a crowd that only wanted to hear about their “great adventure”. She thought about going over to join them, but one good look at the crowd changed her mind.

Half the kids were on probation for one thing or another, a few had spent time in juvenile hall. Or worse. Frankie DiAntonio, who was sitting with his arm around Rita's waist, had been suspended twice for starting fights. He was also the guy who sold Rudy the fake IDs in the first place. Karen was sitting on Phil Ormand's lap. Phil had his hand on Karen's leg. He'd been accused of raping a girl last year, but the girl had changed her mind. The girl's dad, who'd been unemployed for two months, got a job a week later with Ormand Construction.

Melanie shook her head and walked away.

* * * * *

Gym was next to last period on Tuesdays, a class that Melanie and Rita shared. Melanie decided to try to talk to Rita then and to Karen in study hall.

She picked a locker near Rita and tried to start up a conversation while they changed. Rita reached behind herself and slowly, sensuously unzipped her dress. The zipper went down to just above the curve of her ass, but Rita managed it as if she'd been wearing such clothes for years. The top of the dress slipped open as she pulled at the zipper. Melanie gasped in surprise. Rita wasn't wearing any sort of bra under the dress.

Rita turned when she heard Melanie gasp. “Ain't it neat? Anytime I want to see a sex show, I can just go to my room and strip.” She leaned forward and the dress fell away revealing her large breasts.

Melanie felt a little self-conscious. She had caught herself staring at the other girls, but it was just like yesterday. She wasn't aroused by the sexy, almost naked female standing next to her, now. She was just shocked at the way her friend - her girl friend was acting. It was probably the same for Rita. “Yeah, but are you still interested in looking at a naked girl? With all that flirting you were doing, I figured you were getting interested in boys.”

Rita giggled. “I guess I am -- a little. Mostly, I'm just trying to get the hang of the new equipment. I figure that if I'm gonna be stuck as a girl for the month, I might as well take advantage of it. Last night a guy was gonna buy me drinks and dinner. Who knows what sort of loot I can get out of them after I practice.”

“That's crazy. Look, the old lady said you had till tonight to apologize. Maybe if you go with me after school and talk to her, she'll go easy on you.”

“I don't see that she's doing that much -- except for making me a girl in the first place, and she said we'd be girls for thirty days no matter what. Nah, she just wants to see us crawl, and I'm not going to give her the satisfaction.”

There was a yell and the sound of a whistle from outside the changing room. “Yo in there, Ms. Serranno says anybody not out here in two minutes can spend the class doing laps.” The two girls stopped talking and changed as quickly as possible. Melanie did see Rita step out of her dress. She was wearing a thong bikini panty that was scarcely wider than a g-string. The Boss definitely was doing something to Rita, and Melanie decided that she would try one last time to get Rita to change her mind before time ran out that evening.

* * * * *

There wasn't much time to talk after gym class. Melanie stripped down and took the shower next to Rita. “Can I talk to you after school about --”

“Look, Melanie. If you want to make another speech about going back to see the old biddy at the park, forget it. I'm not interested in kissing her ass.”

“But you've only got till tonight to apologize.”

“Or else what? She already did her hocus pocus, and we're stuck like this for thirty days. What else can she do to me?” She stepped out of the shower and headed back to her locker.

Melanie followed, still talking, still trying to convince her. “It's what she's already done. The way you and Karen are acting.”

Both girls took out towels and began patting themselves dry. “What's wrong with the way we're acting?”

“You're acting like, well like a couple of -- like a couple of bimbos, if you must know.”

“Says you, bitch. We're acting the way we want to act. Karen and I figure that if we're gonna be stuck as girls for the next month, we might as well enjoy it. That's all. If you got some hair up your ass about it, too damn bad.”

She threw down her towel for emphasis and began to dress.

“But, Rita.”

“No buts. This conversation is over.” The two friends, ex-friends now, turned their backs on one another and finished dressing. As they were leaving the gym, Melanie gave it one last chance. “Rita, at least think--”

“I said over.” Rita turned her back and headed down the hall. Her walk was even more pronouncedly feminine, as if to show Melanie just how much feminine sex appeal she could put into it.

Melanie hurried to her next class almost in tears. Rita was too damn stubborn for her own good, but maybe - just maybe - she could convince Karen.

Karen was standing by the door to the study hall talking to Phil Ormand. She held her books in front of her being very careful not to hide the view of her breasts. She was smiling at Phil who was looking down and enjoying the view. “Oh, Phil, now you stop talking like that,” she said with a giggle. You'll be late for your class.”

“I'm going; I'm going, but can I see you after school?” Something about the way Phil said “see” sent a shiver down Melanie's spine. So did the leer on his face. He was almost drooling.

“I - I'll see. I may have something to take care of.”

He put his hand under her chin and lifted her head towards his. “You sure there's nothing I can do to...convince you.”

The bell rang before Karen could answer. “See you later, Babe.” Phil dropped his hand and ran off to whatever class he had.

“Hi, Karen. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure, Melanie, but we'd better get inside.” They went into the classroom only to find a message of the board.

At principal's office; will be back in 10 minutes. Behave!

Mr. Snitter

“As if,” Karen said. They both giggled and sat down.

“Karen, are you happy with what happened to you and Rita?”

“What do you mean 'to me and Rita'? You're as much a girl as we are. You're not getting to like being a girl, are -- are you?”

“Heck, no. I hate it. I mean, well, the type of girl you and Rita are; the clothes you're wearing, flirting with guys, going to the bar last night. Do you like acting like that?”

“I - no, I hate it. It - it scares me. Out there just now, when Phil put his hand under my chin, I - I tingled all over. I wanted to take his hand and - and I, oh, Hell, I wanted him to touch my breasts - to kiss me. Melanie, you've got to help me.”

“What about Rita? You've been hanging out with her since we...changed. Have you talked to her about this.”

“Yeah, and she laughed at me. She says we should just kick back and enjoy it.”

“Did she say anything about going back to Bikini Beach and apologizing.”

“Yeah, she says that she'll be damned if she'll give that old - that old witch the satisfaction.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“I feel scared. Melanie, I - I'm starting to like the way I'm feeling, and that really scares me.”

“Will you come out there with me this afternoon?”

“I - I don't know. Do you think it'll do any good?”

“I think today's your last chance, and I think you'd better come out with me.” She winked. “Provided you can get away from Phil.”

“Don't worry, I'll be there. The way I'm feeling about Phil is one of the things that scares me.”

There was a loud “Ahem!” from the front of the room. When everyone had turned to face him, Mr. Snitter did a fairly good Jack Nicholson-ish “I'm baaack.” Half a dozen conversations and some serious flirting ended as the students ran for their assigned seats.

* * * * *

As Karen and Melanie looked out the front door of the school building, they saw Phil and a few other boys talking to Rita. Frankie had his arm around her waist again, his hand resting on her butt. Rita had her arm around his waist and was leaning in close to him. Phil was talking with the others, though he occasionally glanced at the school entrance.

Karen and Melanie ducked back into the school and went out a side entrance. They ran to a bus stop a block down from the school, looking back every other minute to make sure no one was following them. Some twenty minutes later they were at the Bikini Beach parking lot.

The brunette, Anya, was at the gate. “Well, Karen, this is a nice surprise. Is Rita coming, too?”

“She - she said she wasn't interested in coming.”

“She said a lot more than that.” It was the Boss. “But I'm a lady, and I won't repeat any of it. Did you have something to say to me, Karen?”

Karen looked ready to run. Melanie took her hand and squeezed. “It's okay, Karen. Just say what we talked about on the bus.”

“Are you sure?” Melanie nodded, so Karen continued. “Ma'am. I'm - I'm very sorry for what we did. If you still want, I - I'm willing to work for you until we change back.” She looked at Melanie. “Was that okay?”

“I think I'm the one you should be asking, Karen.” The old woman looked carefully at Karen, studying her the way she might study a bug or something. “You seem to be sincere. I think you even realize how bad what you did was. Do you really want another chance?”

“Yes, yes, ma'am. I do.”

“In that case, you're hired. You get your chance.” She suddenly held a bikini and staff tee shirt in her hands. “Go change, dear. You too, Melanie, and don't forget to shower.”

Karen took the clothes, and she and Melanie headed for the Women's Locker Room. Melanie watched as Karen changed. She wasn't wearing a bra, but she had on the same type of thong panties that Rita had been wearing. She also had on a garter belt trimmed in the same pink lace as the thong. She seemed almost relieved to be out of the overtly sexy clothes and into the bikini.

The girls showered. Karen had been a little nervous about the shower, remembering what it had done to her three days before. “Relax,” Melanie said. “The Boss said she was giving you another chance.”

“The Boss?”

“Sure, what else should I - should we -- call her? Now get in. All this shower can do to you now is get you wet.”

“I guess you're right.”

Melanie wasn't. After the shower, they went back to the lockers to dry off and put on their staff tees.

“Hey, Melanie, look at this.” Karen reached into her locker and pulled out her dress. It now had a much more modest neckline. She put it back on the hook and looked at the rest of her clothes. “My clothes have changed somehow.” There was a bra in the locker now, pink with swirls of lace that matched the now much fuller panty. The garter belt was gone though - maybe it had turned into the bra - and Karen's stockings were now a pair of pantyhose. Her heels were now a pair of sandals with only a one-inch heel.

“I wonder,” Melanie said. “Think - think about Phil.”

“Phil? Ugh! He's such a slimy little weasel, I get - I'm - I'm cured. I still like boys, I can tell that somehow, but I think I've got a lot better judgement in who I want to go out with.” She hugged Melanie, tears running down her cheeks. “I - I'm not a bimbo any more. Thank you, thank you, Melanie.”

“You shouldn't keep giving her all the credit, Karen. Some of those 'thank yous' should be coming my way.” They turned. It was the old woman. Karen ran over and hugged her. “Thank you...Boss. It's more than I deserved.”

“Probably, but repentance deserves a reward. You both will still be girls for the rest of the thirty days, but you'll find it easier, Karen, with your libido toned down the way it is now.” She smiled. “Now, scoot. Go talk to Anya. She has a list of things for you both to do today.”

* * * * *

Melanie and Karen rode the bus to school the next morning. “Phil took Rita and me yesterday in his car,” Karen said. “I guess I'm not his 'Babe' anymore. Thank Heavens.”

Rita was waiting when they got off the bus. “Where the hell were you, Karen?” She looked at Karen, who was dressed in a pair of jeans and a sleeveless tee. Karen still looked attractive, but she was nowhere as blatant as Rita, who wore a pair of tight cut-offs that were just long enough to pass the school dress code and a sheer white sleeveless blouse.

“I, umm, what do you mean, Rita?”

“Never mind, I can guess. You went back to the park yesterday and kissed up to the old bat that did this to us. Didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did, but...”

“I thought so. When Frankie came by to pick me up this morning, he wasn't at all surprised that you weren't with me. Then, when I mentioned you, he called you and Melanie a couple of 'stuck up bi...'. Well, never mind. I guess he was right. Why'd you do it, Karen? I told you not to.”

“Give her a break,” Melanie said. “She was scared about what was happening...”

“Nothing was happening. Nothing is happening. And nothing is gonna happen. At least not till the end of the thirty days, when we change back.”

“No, Rita,” Karen said. “I -- I think you're wrong. We were acting like a couple of -- I was scared. That's why I went.”

“Aw, you was scared. Bet you was crying your little eyes out and wetting your little panties over it.”

“It's true, Rita. I went, and I apologized. Now look at me.”

“Yeah, so you apologized. You're still a girl.”

“Yeah, but I'm a different girl. I'm not a bimbo like y...like I was.”

“I don't see that much difference.”

“Yes, yes you do,” Melanie said. “You just don't want to admit it.”

“What I don't want is to hang out with a couple of wusses like you two anymore.” Rita started to walk away.

“Wait,” Karen yelled. “Come with us this afternoon. You may still be able to apologize to the Boss. Get her to make you stop acting the way you are.”

Rita turned. “'The Boss'. Oh, that's rich. She may have conned you into working for her for the rest of the month, but not me. And if you're too dumb to see it, then you're too dumb for me to hang out with you.” She turned and walked away from the other girls. Frankie DiAntonio was standing some distance away. Rita walked over and whispered something to him. He put his arm around her waist, and they headed into the school. Rita looked back over her shoulder and stuck out her tongue at Melanie and Karen.

* * * * *

At lunch, Melanie ate with Dana, Stacy, and Tina. She saw Rita sitting with Frankie, Phil, and a bunch of other boys. Frankie had his arm around her shoulder while he talked. There was no sign of Karen. When Rita looked up and saw Melanie looking at her, she glowered and all but bared her teeth.

Karen came into the cafeteria with her tray just then. Pete Curtis was talking to her, and they both walked over to an empty table and sat down. Karen glanced up and waved at Melanie. Melanie waved back.

“It's nice that they're back together again,” Stacy said.

“Who's that,” Melanie asked.

“Karen Geller and Pete Curtis, silly. They had some kind of a fight last week, but they seem to have gotten back together.”

“I saw it,” Dana said. “It happened just before third period English. Karen and Rita Sandowski were arguing about something. Rita called her a whole bunch of names, and Karen started crying. Pete ran over to defend her, and they...” she sighed, “they just looked into each others' eyes, and Pete apologized. It was so sweet. They walked into class holding hands. Rita just stood there and sputtered.” She giggled and mimed a sputtering kettle.

“I didn't think Karen even knew Rita,” Stacy said. “They certainly don't hang out in the same crowd.”

“No, they don't -- at least not anymore,” Melanie said. “But the three of us, Rita, Karen, and me, all live in the same apartment building.” It was amazing how things had changed. Now nobody else seemed to have any memory of the bimbo Karen that had existed the day before. She'd have to tell Karen about it on the way to the park.

* * * * *

“I hear that you and Pete are back together,” Melanie said as she and Karen walked out of study hall. “I didn't know that you had a fight.”

Karen giggled. “Neither did I. When the Boss changes reality, she sure covers all the bases. I've known Pete for years. We were in the Scouts together before Rudy said Scouts were kids' stuff, and convinced me to drop out. Now, I found that we've been dating on and off for about a year.”

“Gee, is it serious?”

“I don't know. Part of me wants it to be -- you know -- Pete's kind of cute.”

“I know what you mean. I catch myself thinking that sort of thing about Ed Nathanson sometimes.”

“Oh, and how serious are you two?”

“I don't know either, but I don't think we've done it yet.”

“How do you know you didn't. Did you ask him?”

“Of course not. I -- it's just a feeling I have. I guess part of me remembers this new reality we got dropped into.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean, but then, I got bounced twice: boy to girl and, well, bimbo to what I am now. I don't think Pete and I have done it either.”

“So, I guess we're a couple of good girls.”

“Yeah, and I think I want to stay that way, too.”

“Likewise, but Ed's awfully cute.” Melanie giggled, put her hand up so her outspread fingers just barely rested above her breasts, and fluttered her eyelashes. Karen giggled and copied her.

They separated to get their books from their lockers, then met at the side entrance to the building. It was nearer to the stop where they caught the bus to the park. While they were waiting for the bus, Melanie frowned. “The one problem is that I'm not as sure that my body wants to behave.”

“I know what you mean. I still get kind of 'tingly' when I think of cute boys, especially Pete. It's not as bad as it was before, but it's sure distracting.”

“What we need is a chaperone to make sure that we don't let our bodies get us into trouble.”

The bus came, and they boarded, showing their student passes. Once they were sitting alone in the back of the bus, they continued the conversation.

“How about Rita?” Melanie asked with a smile.

“That bit...bimbo as chaperone? Yeah, right! Hey, how about I watch you, and you watch me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Pete asked me to go to the movies with him Saturday night. Do you and Ed have any plans for then?”

“I didn't think so. He hasn't said anything. What -- oh, I get it. We double date. Sounds good. I'll talk to Ed about it tomorrow.” The bus came to a stop and they both looked up. They were at the edge of the Bikini Beach parking lot. “Hey, step lively. We've arrived.”

* * * * *

Pete and Ed were longtime friends, and neither had any problems with a double date. “You'll be the only one I'll really be with anyway,” Ed said.

Melanie knew what he said was nonsense, but she liked hearing it anyway.

They arranged for the boys to pick them up right after work at the water park. Melanie and Karen met them in the lot outside. Ed parked, and the two boys climbed out of the car. “How about we eat here,” Pete said as the girls walked up to them.

“NO!” both girls shouted at once.

“Why,” Ed asked. “Isn't the food any good?”

“We work in there,” Karen told them. “We want to eat someplace where we won't have to go back the next day and clean up after ourselves.” It was certainly better than telling the boys what would really happen to them if they tried to come into the park.

The boys shrugged, and they all drove to a Pizza Hut not too far from the park.
They ordered deep dish with sausage and mushrooms and a pitcher of cokes. Ed poured the drinks and passed around the garlic bread. “So, what movie do we go to after dinner?”

“How about MISSION TO MARS?” Pete said, looking up from the “movie” section of the Saturday paper. “I hear the special effects are awesome.” Ed nodded in agreement.

Mel and Ken would have wanted to see the film as much as the boys, but now, for some reason, they didn't feel quite the same about it. “Hey,” Melanie said. “We're not going to spend two hours watching you guys drool over special effects.”

Karen leaned over and put her hand on Pete's. “I though that I was the only special effect you wanted to look at tonight.” She smiled a simpering little smile and batted her eyes at him. Them she giggled. So did Melanie.

“Okay,” Pete sighed. “How about that new movie, LOVE AND BASKETBALL? It's a sports story and a, umm, a love story.” He said “love” with a comic leer that got another giggle from both girls.

They drove to the multiplex, getting there just in time for the 8:20 show. There was more than enough sports action to keep Pete and Ed happy. Karen and Melanie enjoyed some of that as well, but they found themselves much more interested in the friendship between the boy and the girl. They found themselves sighing and holding the boys' hands as the friendship slowly blossomed into love.

They also found themselves getting aroused by the love scenes, especially the strip basketball game. Melanie felt her nipples stiffening, and there was a feeling of warmth down in her crotch. She felt Ed's arm on her shoulder, and she wanted him to reach down and touch her nipples, to rub her breasts, to - no!
She felt a need to resist her impulse to pull his hand down to her breast. Strangely enough, it seemed to be because she didn't want him to think she was “easy”, not because she was really a boy.

She was wondering about that when Ed reached down on his own and gently touched her breast. Melanie sighed, half in relief and half in anticipation. Ed ran his fingers along her breast sending tingles of pleasure through her body. Melanie sighed again and leaned in closer to him. She looked over and saw that Karen was snuggling in the same way against Pete.

They spent the rest of the movie like that: the two girls nestled in their boyfriends' arms. Ed and Pete continued massaging the girls' breasts, much to the girls' delight, but it didn't go any further.

They did kiss, though. Melanie found that she liked kissing Ed in the dark. It sent a new set of warm tingles through her body. They were kissing as the movie ended. Melanie hurriedly broke the kiss and checked to make sure that her blouse was straight and buttoned. Her breasts were still tingling, especially after Ed had reached in and gently caressed them through her bra.

They stood up just as the lights came on. “Now what?” Pete asked. “It's still over an hour till the curfew?” The town had a Saturday midnight curfew for teens under the age of 18.

“Don't forget that we live across town from here,” Melanie said. “And you boys have to get home, too, after you drop us off.” She could see that they were disappointed. “How about we get some cokes and drive home through Dixon Park?”

“Sounds good,” Pete said. Dixon Park was a small urban park within an upscale neighborhood on the way back to where the girls lived. It had several shady places where they could park for a while and still get everybody home in time.

* * * * *

They were walking out of the multiplex, when they heard a voice behind them. “Well, look who the cat dragged out.”

Melanie and Karen turned. It was Rita. Her arm was around the arm of a boy wearing a T-shirt from the local college. It was a size too small for him and showed off his muscleman build. He looked about 20.

So did Rita. Her sleeveless blouse clung to her curves, while her breasts all but spilled out the very low neckline. Her skit was spandex, only about a foot long, and looked like it had been spray painted on her. She was almost tottering on four-inch heels.

“Umm, hi, Rita,” Karen said, trying to smile.

“Don't 'hi' me, you - you traitor. How's it feel spending all your time making nice-nice to that old bat?”

“It's - it's okay, I guess. What have you been doing?”

Rita hugged the arm of her escort. “Having a lot more fun with Brad here than you two put together could ever figure out how to have with your dates.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Pete said. He took a step towards Rita. The muscleman frowned at him and made a fist.

“It's okay,” Karen said grabbing Pete and pulling him back. “She's - she's not worth it.”

“But she insulted you.”

Karen kissed him on the cheek. “And you defended my honor. That was very sweet. Let's go some place, so I can thank you.”

“With what,” Rita jeered. “You two wouldn't know how to thank a boy if your lives depended on it.” She winked at Pete. “When you get tired of Little Miss Homebody, you come look me up, Petey. I know how to make a boy feel real good.” She laughed and kissed the muscleman. Her arms went up around his neck, while his went down. First around her waist, then his hands slipped down to grip her butt.

They stood like that for a minute or two. They were oblivious to the crowd as they put on a deliberate show for Melanie, Karen, Ed, and Pete. Then Rita broke the clinch. “C'mon, Brad. I can't wait till the movie starts, and the theater gets all dark and everything.” She took the older boy's hand and, with a salacious grin, led him into the theater.

Ed sighed. “Well, that was certainly a mood spoiler.”

Melanie glanced at her watch. It was 10:40. “Let's get those cokes to go. Maybe the mood will strike us again on the way.”

It didn't, at least, not very strongly. They stopped in the park and watched the Moon rising over the woods to the east of town. They kissed and groped a little, but the boys still had Melanie and Karen back at their apartment building at 11:35.

“I'm sorry you didn't have a better time tonight,” Ed said as he walked Melanie to the door. They were holding hands just as Karen and Pete were only a few feet away.

“It wasn't bad,” Melanie said, squeezing his hand. “I certainly enjoyed the first show at the multiplex. It was just the second one that I didn't like.”

“Really.” Ed was smiling. “What did you like?”

“Spending the evening with you. I liked that. I liked that a lot.”

“That's funny,” he said. “So did I - spending the evening with you, I mean.”

Melanie stepped into his arms, her own arms going up around his neck. She pulled him down to her. Their lips met, then opened in a kiss. Melanie felt her nipples grow taught, pushing against her bra. There was a warmth, a looseness in her crotch. Her entire body felt alive, charged with 50,000 volts of electricity. She pushed herself into Ed, feeling her breasts crush against his chest, feeling something hard pushing at her groin. She - she -

She heard the chime of the bells at St. Martha's Church about three blocks away. It was 11:45. The only way that Ed and Pete could get home before the curfew was to leave now. The curfew had been enacted a year before after some gang violence, and the police did a very good job of patrolling the streets to see that it was enforced.

Melanie broke the kiss and took her arms down from around Ed's neck. She felt overwhelmed by the sensations going through her body and looked down, rather than face him. “I - I guess you guys have to go.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“You'd better. Just remember, Karen and I work at the park from ten to six.”

“Tomorrow night then.” He grabbed Pete who had been saying his own goodbye to Karen, and the two boys ran to their car. Melanie and Karen stepped through the glass doors into the lobby. They waved from inside as the boys drove off.

“Did we just do what I think we did,” Karen said as they walked to the elevators.

“What do you mean?”

“Were we just out on a date with a couple of guys, acting like we were girls? Kissing them and all?”

“Yeah, it was - it was kind of sweet.”

“Melanie! I went to the park with you - I apologized to the Boss and took a job there - because I was afraid of doing stuff like that with Phil. Now I'm kissing Pete.”

“Did you feel the same about Phil as you do about Pete?”

“No way. Phil was slime. All he wanted to do was get into my panties. Wham, bam, what was your name again? Pete's, well, he's different. I don't know that I love him or anything, but I enjoy being with him. I trust him.”

“I know. I think I feel the same way about Ed. I enjoyed what we did tonight. I enjoyed it a lot, but there was no pressure to - well, to put out. I think we could have a good time without doing anything more than a little groping and some kissing. Maybe not even that.”

“Oh, at least that.” Karen giggled, then blushed a little.

Melanie blushed, too. “Okay, but we don't have to go any further. To tell the truth, as good as it feels, as much as I'm curious, I'm not sure that I would want to go any further. Just take it slow and easy.”

“Boy, is that a bad choice of words: 'take it slow and easy'. Easy - hey, maybe that's part of what the Boss meant by 'easy time'. We're not as eager sexually as...”

“As Rita is? I know. I wonder if she's enjoying being a girl as she says, especially the sort of girl we saw tonight.”

“I don't know, but I doubt that she'd ever admit it, if she wasn't.” The elevator stopped. “Here's my floor. I'll meet you in the lobby in the morning. G'night.”

* * * * *

Melanie and Karen were just leaving their apartment building Monday morning, when they heard a car honk. They looked in the direction of the noise and saw Frankie DiAntonio pulling up to the curb. “Hey, babes,” he yelled. “You see Rita? I'm giving her a ride to school; plenty of room for two more babes like you. You want a ride, too?”

“They can walk,” Rita said coming out of the building. “They think they're too good to be seen with the likes of us.”

“Good morning, Rita,” Karen said with a smile. “You have a good time at the movie on Saturday?”

“What movie,” Rita said quickly. “I stayed in Saturday because Frankie had to go out of town.” She turned away from the car and all but bared her teeth. “You know that, Karen. I told you about it yesterday. Don't you remember?”

“Oh, gee. I was so sure we saw you at the multiplex Saturday night.” Karen was all but laughing out loud, and Melanie was biting her lip to keep from laughing. “Maybe I was mistaken.”

“Maybe,” Rita said. She glared on last time at the other girls and hurried over and got into Frankie's car. “Let's go, Lover. These two ditzy bitches don't know what they're talking about.” She kissed him on the cheek to change the subject. Frankie smiled and drove off.

“You know,” Karen said with a giggle. “That was kind of fun.”

“I don't think I ever saw you stand up to Rita - or Rudy before,” Melanie said.

“Is that what I did? I was just trying to get her back for all that nasty stuff she said on Saturday.”

“Well, whatever it was, it was fun.” Melanie glanced down the street. “Hey, here comes the bus.”

* * * * *

Karen stopped Melanie as they were going into study hall that afternoon. “Rita threatened me today in English.”

“She didn't!”

“Yeah, she said if I ever said anything more to Frankie about her going to the movies with that Brad guy, she'd make more trouble for me than I knew how to handle.”

“What'd you say.”

“Nothing. Pete overheard. He told Rita that if she even thought about hassling me, she'd be the one to regret it. Then he said that he and Ed would have a little talk with Frankie about seeing her last Saturday unless she apologized to me right then and there.”

“Did she?”

“What choice did she have? Pete and Ed would have told Frankie. He'd probably have believed them, and she knew it. She got a panicky look on her face and said she was sorry. Then she asked me not to tell. I think she really kind of likes Frankie.” Karen smiled. “I know I could have stood up to her on my own, but it felt so neat to have Pete stick up for me like that. I - I wanted to just kiss him. Right there in class.”

“Did you?”

“No, I couldn't. Ms. Petaki came in just then and spoiled the mood.”

“We teachers do that sometimes.” The girls turned. It was Mr. Snitter. Now, if you two wouldn't mind taking your seats, we can begin the study hall.”

Karen was still excited about what had happened and tried to pass a note to Melanie. Unfortunately, Mr. Snitter intercepted it. “Ms. Geller, you're in my fifth period U.S. History class aren't you?”

“Yes, Mr. Snitter.”

“I thought so. Ms. Haywood. I don't have you for any other classes, so I'll be watching you in here. On the other hand, thank you, Ms. Geller. You've just volunteered for the team assignment that I'll be giving in class tomorrow.”

* * * * *

Melanie waited until the next day, when she and Karen were working at Bikini Beach, to ask about the assignment. They had been working with Vicky, one of the college girls who also worked at the park. The three of them had been cleaning the kitchen area at the Tiki Hut, but now they were all heading to the office for their “study break”.

“So, what's Snitter got you doing?” Mr. Snitter's projects were well-known around the school.

“I'm on one side for a debate about U.S policy towards the Indians. We square off in a week and a half.”

“He likes those things. He says that's how he gets people for the debating club.”

“I know, but I'm not interested in joining any club. To make matters worse, Pete and Dana volunteered to be on the team with me. Then, the two of them voted me team leader.”

“Aww, that's sweet.”

“Sweet? How the heck am I going to lead a debate team?”

“I don't know, but I do know one thing.”

“Yeah, what's that.”

“You've got about a week and a half to figure it out.”

“Figure out what?” Vicky asked, slowing down to walk along with them.

“Karen's history teacher gave her a special assignment, she's part of a three person team who get to debate in class next week. Her teammates made her captain, and she doesn't know where to start.”

“That's easy,” Vicky said. “You start with me. I'm a history major at City College -- pre-law actually, and I was on the debate team in high school.”

“Will you help me?”

“Sure, it'll be fun. What's the topic?”

“Indian policy. I think the question is 'Resolve the U.S. government policy to the Indians; should it have been fairer.'“

“I think it's more likely: 'Resolved -- that's the word they use in debates -- the U.S. government policy to the Indians should have been fairer.' Woo! That's a big topic. Let's talk about it some more. I'll dig out a couple of books, and we can work on it tomorrow night, okay.”

“Great, how can I thank you?”

“Hey, we're all friends here, but if you really want to thank me, you can be the one to clean out the grease trap in the Tiki Hut when we go back on duty.”

“Me and my big mouth,” Karen groaned.

* * * * *

“Okay, kids, come over and sit down.” Mr. O'Keefe was the Auto Shop teacher. His family had owned a large garage in town since the 1930s when his grandfather had come back home after running a motor pool for the U.S. Army. He worked there himself on weekends and during the Summer, but he'd wanted to teach kids. He was a burley man in his late forties with a shock of red hair that was going mousy brown on its way to gray.

He watched his afternoon class take their seats in the classroom portion of the large workroom, waiting till they were all sitting, notebooks out, before he continued. “By mistake, the school administration seems to have done something right. This came in yesterday afternoon.”

He pulled a blue tarp off of a desk sized box that had been standing almost unnoticed in a corner of the room. It was an old IBM clone PC wired to a standard auto sensor system.

“This new little toy of mine is a top of the line auto diagnostic computer system. Those of you who get the chance will be learning to talk to it over the next few weeks. They tell me it's almost as good at finding out problems as the 'Car Talk' guys. It's not quite as funny as 'Click and Clack', but I hear that they're working on that“

“What do you mean 'those of you', Mr. O'Keefe?” Phil Ormand said. “Ain't we all gonna get a chance to use that thing?”

“Yes, eventually. Unfortunately, I can only eight of you at a time because the equipment and manuals are limited. I'll take the eight of you with the top grades first. The rest will go in alphabetic order. Hey, no groaning, Mr. Zimmer.” He took a quarter out of the pocket of his overalls and tossed it high into the air. “Call it, Zimmer.”

“Heads,” came a shout from the back of the room.

Mr. O'Keefe looked at the coin as it landed. “Okay, we'll go in reverse alphabetic order. But the first eight are still...” He glanced at a list on his clipboard. “Wes Androchek, Stacy Brenner, Melanie Haywood, Carl Jackson, Phil Ormand, Fred Reinhart, Mike Schwartz, and Harry Weiss. Congratulations, especially to Stacy and Melanie, who've proven once again that you don't need balls to be a good mechanic.”

“Just when you give the customer the bill,” someone shouted, and even Mr. O'Keefe laughed at the joke.

* * * * *

“Haywood, I want to talk to you for a minute?”

Melanie looked up from untying her gym shoes. “What is it, Rita?” Gym was over, and she wanted to get to study hall. She'd managed to avoid Rita for the past two days.

“I made a deal with that bitch, Karen, that I wouldn't hassle her, if she didn't tell Frankie about me and Brad.”

“Yeah, I heard about that 'deal'. You agreed because Pete said he and Ed would tell if you didn't.”

“Okay, okay, but I gotta know if you'll stick to it, too. If I don't hassle either of you, you won't tell Frankie either.”

“Why, Rita, dear, are you 'sweet' on Frankie?”

“Hey, he's good to me. I - okay - I like it. He's great in bed - hung like a horse,” she said it with a giggle. “And he's dumb enough that I can get him to go along with whatever I say.”

“So you don't want me to ruin a good thing.”

“Yeah. If I'm gonna be a broad for the rest of the month, I wanna enjoy myself. Stringing along Frankie makes it easier. He's right there for me whenever I want him - or I can't get anything better.”

“You think it's right to be using him like that?”

“He gets something out of it, too. He says I'm a fantastic lay; says I give good -- oh, the hell with it. Are you gonna go along are, or you gonna try and ruin things?”

“I think you're making a big enough mess of things on your own.”

“Don't get all preachy on me. Hell, next thing, you're gonna try and get me to go out and see that old bat. Gee, maybe I can get a job cleaning her toilet like you two have.”

“I think you blew any chance of that, but I'll tell you what.”

“What?”

“If you ever change your mind about talking to her, I'll put in a good word. In the meantime, I'll keep quiet about last Saturday.”

“There's no chance I'm gonna go see her, but I'll hold you to the other part of that promise.” She turned and hurried off to her last class.

Melanie tossed her gym clothes in her bag and headed out, just getting to study hall as the bell rang. She told Karen about the conversation on their way to the park after school.

* * * * *

“Ready for some work,” Vicky asked Karen while they were taking their after dinner “study break”.

“I guess, so. What exactly did you have in mind?”

“This.” The older girl lifted a large knapsack onto the table. “I hit the university library this afternoon and took out some materials for your debate.” She opened the knapsack and pulled out four thick books: Trail of Tears: Analysis of a Faulty Policy; Dispatches of the Indian Bureau 1810-1850; D.G. Atwood and the Theft of the West; and A Chronicle of Western Expansion.

“Some materials,” Karen said. “I'm not sure if I can lift these things, let alone read them.”

“Sure you can,” Melanie said with a mischievous smile. “I've seen you lift heavier stuff than that.”

“Thanks a lot,” Karen said sourly. “Seriously, what am I supposed to do with these books. I'll never get them all read in time for the debate.”

“Welcome to the wonderful world of college, Karen,” Belinda said looking up from her own textbook. “We have to read stuff like that every term for just about every course.”

“I knew there was a reason I didn't want to go to college,” Karen said with a smile.

“Can get this conversation back onto the subject of the debate?” Vicky said.

“Sorry,” Belinda and Karen said at the same time.

“First of all,” Vicky said, “I can show you some tricks for skimming through materials to find what you need. Second, didn't you say that you had a three man team?”

“Yeah, Pete and Dana are on it with me. I'm the captain, though.”

“Okay, Captain. I'll show you some tricks tonight. You show your friends and give each a book to go through. Take good notes, and we'll get together next week, so I can coach you, okay?”

“I don't know...”

“Not yet you don't, Karen, but you will.”

* * * * *

It was raining when Melanie woke up Saturday morning. About nine o'clock, she got a call from Anya. “Hi, Melanie. I'll be quick because I've got to make a bunch of calls. The forecast is heavy rain all day with occasional thunderstorms. The park is closed. We'll see you tomorrow. Bye”

The voice had seemed recorded somehow, even though it had mentioned her name. 'Maybe they use magic,' she thought to herself with a smile.

The phone rang again only a minute later. “Hi, Melanie. It's Karen. Did you...”

“Yeah, I just got a call from Anya, if that's what you mean.”

“Just now? Gee, they just called me, too.” She giggled. “It's like they had magic or something.”

“Gee, do you think? Anyway, what's on your mind?”

“Well, since we've got the day off, I thought we could do something together.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“What any red-blooded girl does on a Saturday, go to the mall.” She paused for a second. “If nothing else, we can take in a movie.”

Melanie hesitated. Wandering around the mall looking in stores normally didn't appeal to Mel - except maybe sporting goods stores or the video arcade. Only, he - she - wasn't Mel now. She was Melanie, and the idea sounded pretty good. “Oh, okay. Be here at my place in about half an hour. I want to get some breakfast in me first.”

“How about, I meet you downstairs at 10:30 instead? We can run out to the shelter at the bus stop and catch the 10:45 when it comes by. It goes straight out to the Summerdale Mall.”

“Sounds good. I'll see you then.”

Melanie put down the phone only to have it ring again almost immediately. “What now, Karen?”

“It's Stacy. Do you and Karen have to go to work today?”

“No, they just called and said the place is closed because of the rain. Why?”

“Dana, Tina, and I are going over to the Summerville Mall, and we thought you two might like to come along.”

“Sure, we were heading there ourselves.”

“All right! My Mom's letting us use her car for the day. We'll pick you two up at 10:15.”

“Okay, I'll call Karen and let her know.”

Karen quickly agreed with Stacy's idea. They were waiting just inside the door to the apartment building when Stacy pulled up in a green SUV and honked. They ran out, jumping in the side doors. The SUV sped off and they arrived at the mall just before 11. The lots were fairly full, but they managed to find a spot near one of the side entrances. A quick run, and they were all inside.

“Okay,” Stacy said. “Now that we're here, where do we head first?”

“Jean Queen is having a sale on tops,” Tina said. “Thirty percent off.”

“Must be Summer tops, then,” Karen said. They all groaned, but they headed towards Jean Queen.

As they walked down the corridor, Melanie noticed that the Photo-Mat had moved out. There was some kind of weird curio shop in its place. Whoever ran the new place really seemed to be getting into it. The fake stone front looked almost real. Melanie and the others stopped to look in the window. They were about to go inside, just to look around, when Karen noticed the person behind the counter.

“Melanie, do you remember that friend of Anya's that comes over to the park sometimes?”

“Yeah, umm, Dannie, I think. Anya introduced her to me once. She said that Dannie works for an old friend of her grandmother's. Why?”

“Is that her behind the counter - with some guy in a bathrobe?”

“I think it is - I, umm, yeah. Girls, I think we should head straight to Jean Queen. If that sale is as Tina says, we'd better hurry before all the good stuff is gone.”

“But what about this place? There's some really strange stuff inside.”

“Tina, would you rather look at a bunch of 'strange stuff' you probably won't want or try on tops that are on sale?”

“I see what you mean. I guess we can come back here later.”

They headed off. The store with the “strange stuff” would be in a mall near Minneapolis when they walked past the location again that afternoon.

* * * * *

Jean Queen was fairly crowded, but the selection was still pretty good.

Melanie and Karen were as eager as any of the other girls to look through the stock. They selected five “possibles” each, the maximum allowed in a dressing room at one time, and stood in line with the others. They would try on the tops, not always picking even one of the tops for purchase. Most of the tops were put back for others to look at. The few others were waiting for them at the counter.

Now, the five of them were in line for the third time. After about ten minutes, a group of girls walked out of one of the larger rooms. The five friends headed in. All the girls took off their own blouses and set them on hooks. It was no different than gym class. Melanie and Karen looked at Stacy or Tina or Dana, standing - stretching, naked to the waist except for their bras, and her only thought was how cute the bra was and where had the girl bought it. It was still a little frustrating, but they were used to it by now.

What they couldn't get used to were their reactions to the clothes.

Tina saw Melanie wriggling into a pale blue knit tank top with a bit of flowered embroidery, a triangular shape that went from just below the neckline to down between her breasts. “Melanie, that is cute, and it goes with your coloring so well. You have to buy that one.”

“Thanks, I think I'm going to,” Melanie said. “And the same goes for that darling mustard one you just had on.” She suddenly thought about what she had just said. 'Darling?' That was something girls said.

The girls were leaving the dressing room to drop their selections at the counter and pick some other tops to try on. Melanie touched Karen on the elbow and motioned for her to wait.

“I just told Tina her top was 'darling',” she said when they were alone. “Darling. That's something girls say.”

“We are girls, remember. At least for the next two weeks or so.”

“Yeah, but I'm beginning to wonder if we'll want to change back.”

“I'm worried about that, too. Let's ask the Boss about it tomorrow.”

“And in the meantime?”

“In the meantime, we do what feels natural, even if that means that we act like girls. Now, c'mon, the others are going to wonder why we're taking so long.”

“Where were you guys?” Dana said as they came out of the dressing room.

Karen made a gesture at Melanie. “Fumblethumbs here dropped her stack of tops. I helped her pick them up.”

“Fumblethumbs?” Melanie said. “Gee, thanks.”

“Sorry, it's an old expression my gramma uses. I guess I picked it up.”

“Well, now that we've settled that, did you two decide on any of the tops?”

“Yeah, I think I'm going to buy this blue one Tina liked,” Melanie said.

“I like this burgundy one,” Karen said. “But I like the white, too.” She paused for a second then smiled, “so I'm getting them both.”

“You go, girl,” Dana said. “So, do we look for more, or buy these and go see about some lunch?”

“Don't forget, we've each picked three or four tops to buy already,” Tina said.

“I think that's enough for now, even at these prices,” Stacy added, looking at her watch. “Besides, it's almost 1:30. I'm hungry.”

“I think it's settled then,” Melanie said.

They paid for their new tops, happily accepting the discount Tina had mentioned. There was a Wendy's nearby, and they went there for salads and diet sodas.

Melanie and Karen had eaten a lot of salads since their transformations. They still would have preferred to order burgers, but that was something their new bodies wouldn't accept. The one time they had tried, a couple days after the transformations, the burgers had seemed to be made of pure fat and the regular cokes were far too sweet and syrupy. The chunks of chicken in the salads were better than no meat at all. (They could eat the food at the park, but both girls suspected that the Boss' magic was helping somehow.)

After lunch, they walked across the mall to Samuelsohns'. They really didn't have the money for the sort of fancy dresses that store offered, but it was still fun to look.

“What do you think of this one,” Tina said, holding a sequined blue gown in front of her.

“It's divine. When exactly will you be having tea at the White House?” Stacy giggled.

“Now, now,” Melanie said. “Bill and Hillary have been so busy lately, the poor dears really haven't had time for just relaxing their friends.”

“That's just what I was saying to Al and Tipper,” Tina said, as the girls all but collapsed giggling.

They each took a turn picking a party dress and fantasizing about what they were doing when they wore it. Dana spent an evening with Prince William in a floor length white satin gown. Stacy picked a short green velvet dress for an evening party hopping with one of the guys from 'N SYNCH. Both girls hinted at spending the nights with their respective dates. Then it was Karen's turn.

She stalled for time choosing her dress, finally picking a “basic black” dress with a low neckline. “I, umm, I'm going to the Heismann Awards.”

“The Heismanns,” Melanie asked. “The football awards? What are you doing there, Karen?”

Karen got a dreamy look on her face. “I'm there with my fiancé, he's getting the award. After that, we're going to a private island in the Bahamas to get married. We'll be there for a month-long honeymoon before he has to report to the Giants. He got a $3 million dollar signing bonus, so money's no problem.”

A couple of the girls sighed. Karen suddenly broke into a grin while they weren't looking and winked at Melanie.

“I think Karen wins,” Melanie said.

“Not till you do one, dear,” Karen said. “C'mon, you have to pick a dress and tell us the story.”

“Yeah, c'mon,” Stacy said.

Now it was Melanie's turn to stall. She wandered around looking for a dress - and a story. Finally, she found a sleeveless white gown, full and flowing, that looked more like a nightgown than an evening dress.

“It's a warm night,” she began, holding the dress in front of her. “I'm walking in a formal garden. A band is playing slow dance music off someplace not too far away. He rides up on a black charger, a mask covering his face, except for his mouth and his eyes. We look at each other, and he smiles. I've never seen his face, but I know that he must be very handsome. He jumps off the horse, and I run into his arms. We embrace. The music plays. We dance. Close. We can feel our bodies against each other. We kiss and, well, somehow, the dress isn't that important anymore.”

Melanie felt herself blushing. Her nipples felt stiff under her bra. Where had that fantasy come from, and why was it turning her on the way it was? The girls were all sighing now, even Karen. Melanie winked back at her.

“I think you win, Melanie,” Dana said. The others quickly agreed.

Tina pointed to a salesclerk who was walking towards them. “And I think we'd better go.”

Melanie put the dress back, and, still giggling, the girls headed for the door.

They got as far as the perfume counter. Karen and Melanie both had found perfume in their rooms after the change, but both had hesitated to try it. Perfume was just too feminine. Now, watching their friends, they both found themselves getting curious.

Melanie had sprayed a small amount two perfumes on her wrist before rejecting them. She finally picked a rose scent that she liked. Karen picked something called “Jasmine Night”. They each sprayed the perfume on their necks and checked the price tags. Each of the small bottles they were holding cost over $50. They both shuddered a little and very carefully put their bottles back on the counter.

“What's the matter,” Stacy asked. “You two act like you didn't know how expensive that stuff is.”

“I guess we never really thought about it,” Melanie said.

“Well, now you know. I do like the scents you guys picked, though. Maybe you can even afford to buy some one of these days.”

“Sure,” Karen said. “I think my new husband can afford it with the bonus money he got from the Giants.”

That started another round of giggles as the girls left the store.

They wandered back towards the food court. By now it was late afternoon, and the mall was fairly crowded. “Well, if it isn't the five prettiest girls in school.” It was Phil Ormand. “Looking for a little masculine company, ladies?” He tried to take Dana's arm, but she brushed his hand away.

“The only way any of us would go anywhere with you,” Melanie said, “was if we were looking for something small.”

“Watch your mouth, bitch!”

“Or what,” Melanie said. “Is big, bad Phil gonna beat up on me?”

He made a fist. “It's possible; it's very possible.”

“You going to beat me up, too?”

“And me,” Dana and Tina both said.

“Me, too,” Stacy asked

“Now, wait a minute,” Phil said. He unclenched his fist. “What's going on here?”

“I know you're not going to beat up on us.” It was Tom Brill. Jeff Hogan was with him.

“Hell,” Phil said. “If you guys take a joke, I'm out of here.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

“Gee, I thought he'd never leave,” Tom said with a grin.

“You girls okay?” Jeff asked.

“We are now,” Stacy said, giving Jeff a kiss on the cheek.

“I'll say,” Dana said, taking Tom by the hand. “I think we owe you boys a reward, though.”

Tom raised his eyebrow and gave her a leer. “And what did you have in mind, fair lady?”

“Something a bit less than what you have in mind. How about we treat the pair of you boys to an ice cream sundae?”

“Hmm,” Jeff said with a grin. “It wouldn't be nearly as sweet, but I guess we'll have to settle.” Stacy punched him in the arm and smiled. The group headed to the Creamery and a reward for the boys.

* * * * *

“Excuse me, Boss. May Karen and I talk to you for a minute?”

The old woman looked up from her Cajun chicken salad. “Yes, Melanie. What can I do for you?”

“It's, well, it's the spell you put on us when you - when the showers turned us into girls. It - it seems to be working too well.”

She stared at the two girls for a moment. “What exactly do you mean?”

“Well, yesterday, for instance,” Melanie began. “We went to the mall with some friends of ours - female friends, and we were acting just like they were. We giggled, we looked at some 'darling' clothes, and we fantasized about kissing boys. In fact, the week before, we did kiss a couple of boys.”

“And it all felt natural,” Karen said. “It felt like we'd being doing stuff like that all our lives.”

“That's because, in this new reality, you have. Remember, for the rest of the month, Mel and Ken were never born. Melanie and Karen were. They -- you --were brought up as girls. Why shouldn't you act like girls now?”

“But it seems like it's getting worse,” Melanie said.

“To tell the truth, Boss,” Karen said, “we're - well, we're kind of afraid that we won't want to be changed back. We'll be girls inside and out with nothing of Mel and Ken left.”

“I'll be honest with you, Karen - you, too, Melanie - you may want to be girls after the thirty days are over.”

“We will,” Karen said, “but that's not fair. You said we only had to be girls for a month as punishment for what we did.”

“Yes, dear, I know, and I intend to keep my word. You'll be boys again at the end of the thirty days.” She paused a moment. “But.”

“But what?”

“First of all, for the rest of the month, you'll continue to act in a feminine manner, as if you were born the girls everyone thinks you are.”

“Oh, that's just 'darling',” Karen said sarcastically.

“Please let me finish. At the end of the time, you'll change back. When you do, you'll be as masculine as you always were - in body and in mind.”

“Then it'll be over? We won't want to be girls?”

“You may, but, if you do, it will be a conscious choice based on what you experienced during this month as your male mind remembers it.”

“No way!” both girls said.

“What do you kids say - oh, yes - 'Way!' Some males have decided to continue in their female identities. One or both of you may choose to stay this way, but it will be a conscious decision, and it will be Ken and Mel, not Karen and Melanie, who make the decision.”

“But what about the feelings we're having, the way we're thinking?”

“You're a couple of smart kids. Enjoy what is certainly a unique experience. You'll be your old male selves again soon enough, and the feminine emotions that you're feeling now will gone - though you may want them back.”

“That's all,” Melanie said. “That's your advice, live with it?”

“And wait to see if we want to be girls after we change back,” Karen added.

“Yes, dears, just be careful how much living you girls do. All actions have consequences, and some consequences are beyond my ability to correct.”

“I, umm, think we understand,” Karen said.

“That's very good, dear. Now you'd best head back to work. There's more than enough around here to keep you busy, and your dinner break is just about over, I think.” She made a “Scoot!” gesture with her hand and went back to her salad.

Melanie headed back across lawn, while Karen stayed behind to help Holly with the unloading of paper supplies for the Port Landing.

Melanie and Norma had been collecting towels from the various stands where women could leave them. She was just passing a set of chairs at the edge of the patio when she heard a familiar voice. “Oh, girl would you be kind enough to get me another soda.”

“Rita, what are you doing here?” Rita was stretched out in a lawn chair. Her dark green tankini bathing suit looked like it had been made from, at most, three small handkerchiefs. She looked up at Melanie over the tops of a pair of green sunglasses.

“The old bat did use a thirty day pass to change us. I figured that, as long as I had a pass, I'd use it.” She held up an empty plastic glass. “Now be a good little employee and get me that drink.”

Melanie closed her eyes and counted to ten. Doing things like get sodas for the members was part of her job. But Rita? That was too much to bear. She gritted her teeth and took the glass. “Yes, ma'am, what would you like to drink?”

“Diet coke, please. No ice.” She handed Melanie a five dollar bill.

Melanie was back with the drink a few minutes later. She had just barely resisted the impulse to pour a cup or two of sugar - or salt - into it. “Here's the soda, Rita.”

“Thank you, dear. You can keep the change. Brad was so nice when he dropped me off here.” She smiled. “A little slap and tickle in his car, and he gave me twenty bucks to enjoy myself with. Of course, I'll pay him back tonight after he picks me up.”

“Maybe I should have brought you some ice. You sound like you could stand a cold shower.”

“Don't be catty, dear. Your beloved Boss gave you the same sort of equipment that I have - though mine is much nicer looking. It's not my fault if you spend your time here waiting on your betters instead of going out and having some fun with it.”

“If there's nothing else nasty you have to say, I'll be getting back to work.”

“No, go ahead. If I want you or Karen, I'll just ring the servants' bell.”

Melanie stormed off, Rita's laughter echoing in her ears.

* * * * *

“Okay, class,” Mr. O'Keefe said. “Today, I'm going to show you the new diagnostic system that I mentioned last week. You all get the basic lecture. Then, like I said, we work in groups of eight.”

“Mr. O'Keefe,” Danny Briscoe asked, “What do the rest of us do while you're working with the eight?”

“Oh, Danny, I can think of lots of things for you to do. But instead, the rest of you will work on one of the wrecks out in the yard.” He pointed to a parking lot just outside the building. There were a number of cars parked there, none of them in working condition.

“Those things?”

“Those things. Think of it as practice for your end of the year exam.” He paused for a minute. “Now, are there any other questions?”

When no one raised a hand, O'Keefe began his lecture. “This new system uses the old K-417 sensors. Only instead of giving individual readings on a couple hundred different conditions, depending on where you plug it, it feeds the readings to a regular PC loaded with the diagnostic system.”

He leaned over and hit ENTER on the PC. The screen filled with a complex menu.
“The diagnostic is what they call an 'Expert System'. That means it's been programmed to think like a mechanic - no jokes, anybody - I can hear the way your little minds work. The program goes down the probabilities based on the data it gets from the sensors. Then it gives you a list of possible problems in descending order of likelihood. The system also has a full set of auto manuals that come up to give more information.” A hand shot up. “Yes, Faulk?”

“How'd they get all that onto the PC?”

“These five CD Rom disks.” He held them up. “The reason that I didn't start talking about the thing till today is that it took Mr. Foley from the Computer Lab that long to install them and for the two of us to make sure they worked.”

“Now, to show how the system works I've done something to this engine. Zimmer, come up here and connect the leads from the monitor to the to the sensors in the engine.”

Billy Zimmer, a tall, skinny boy with a shock of black hair and a lopsided grin came to the front of the room. He took the leads and plugged them into the engine. “Now what, Mr. O'Keefe?”

“Read out the monitor to the class.”

“It's a menu, like you said. Wait a minute, the icon for the engine is blinking.”

“Hit the enter key.” Billy did. “Now what do you see?”

“It looks like an engine schematic. Two - no, three parts are blinking.”

“Move the cursor to any one of those parts and click the mouse.”

“Okay, I clicked on the distributor. It got bigger, and now there's writing. 'Wire loose in distributor - 73 percent'.”

“Fine, you can sit down.” O'Keefe waited until he was seated. “If he'd clicked on the other two places, the fuel injector or the plugs, he'd have gotten different percentages. And if Mr. Zimmer had right-clicked on the description of what was wrong, the page from the manual discussing the distributor would have come up on the screen.”

Mr. O'Keefe right-clicked, and the screen was filled with text. He let the class come up, a few at a time, for a look. Then he disconnected the sensors from the engine. While O'Keefe worked, Phil Ormand looked at the CD Rom disks sitting on the corner of table. 'Very neat system,' he thought, 'and it's so very portable.'

* * * * *

Karen and Pete were having lunch together when Dana came over.

“Where did you get those books, Karen? That one you gave me has some great stuff in it for the debate.”

“Yeah, mine, too,” Pete said. “Where did you get them?”

“Vicky, she's one of the girls I work with at the water park, is a history major over at the college. She was one the debate team in high school, and she wanted to help me. She got the books from the college library and gave me some tips on doing the research.”

“So that's where you learned that stuff about skimming for arguments and writing things on cards and all.”

“Yeah, how's it working?”

“Great,” Pete smiled. “I've already got something over a hundred cards.”

“Me, too,” Dana said. “If cards alone could do it, we will kick butt. What I don't understand is how we use all those facts.”

“Vicky explained that to me. Once we get all the cards, we use the best of them to write our arguments.”

“Yeah, and what do we do with the rest of the cards?”

“We're not going to throw them out, are we - I mean after all that work.”

“Of course, not,” Karen said. “The way Vicky explained it to me, we make a speech, then Max, Lea, and Ray make a speech. Then we get to make statements that argue against what they said and vice versa. That's what the cards are for. While they're making their speeches, we make notes and look through our cards for things to use against them.”

“Cool,” Dana said. “I guess we did pretty good voting to make you captain.”

“I told you she was smart,” Pete said. He leaned over and gave Karen a light peck on the cheek.

Karen blushed. Ken wasn't much of a leader. He had generally let Rudy decide things. Now that he - or she - had the chance, she found that she was enjoying doing some thinking for herself.

* * * * *

“Will you stop fretting about it,” Karen said to Melanie as they got off the bus near their school the next morning. “It's been three days.”

“I know...I know, but Rita made me so mad.”

“Well, she had every right to be there. She has a thirty day pass the same as we do.”

“Yeah, and she's so sure she's right and we're wrong. She all but rubbed it in my face.”

“Do you think she's right - about the Boss, I mean?”

“Hell, no. I think the Boss has been pretty fair with us. And I sure wouldn't want to be walking around acting like a cat in heat the way she is. Would you?”

“I was walking around like that, remember?”

“Oh, gee, I - I'm sorry, Karen. I was so mad at Rita that I forgot.”

“I know that, too, and you know how I felt about the way I was acting. That's why I went out with you and talked to the Boss. I just wish that Rita had come, too.”

“No chance of that. Rita's too stubborn to ever admit that she's not enjoying herself; maybe not even admit it to herself.”

“Well, she's certainly playing the part well enough. You can see the way she's stringing Frankie along.”

“I know. I think part of what makes me so mad is that I promised not to tell anybody about Brad.”

“Don't I know it. How much did she say he gave her?”

“Twenty bucks. I wonder what she had to do to earn it?”

“To earn what? Are you two talking about Rita?” It was Frankie. He had come up behind them, maybe because he had heard his name.

“Umm, no, no, Frankie. We're talking about another girl.”

“Don't lie to me; you're talking about Rita. I heard you mention her name. What I want to know is who this 'Brad' is and what he gave my Rita money for.”

“No-nothing. He's just a guy,” Karen said.

“'Just a guy'. What sort of a guy? Has he been bothering Rita?”

“No, Frankie. He hasn't - at least I don't think he's been hurting Rita. He's just somebody that she knows.”

“Yeah, and just how well do they know each other?”

“Frankie, I can't tell you. I really don't know. Besides - we -- we promised.”

“Promised? Promised who? Brad?”

“They promised Rita, Frankie.” It was Ed. “We all did.”

“What? Why?”

“Rita was hassling the girls. They - we saw her at the movies with this Brad a couple Saturdays ago. She promised not to hassle Melanie and Karen if we all promised not to tell you about Brad.”

“So tell me now. Who is he?”

“I don't know who he is,” Ed said. “And the girls don't either. We only saw him once.”

“What's he look like then?”

“He's tall and in pretty good shape, like he lifts weights or something,” Ed said.

“He's a few years older than us, 20 maybe,” Karen added. “I think he goes to the college.”

“But what's he look like. Tell me, already?”

“He's tall,” Melanie said, “maybe 6 foot, with a broad chin and really curly sandy brown hair.”

“Anything more?” Frankie was talking through clinched teeth.

Karen giggled. “From the way Rita was reacting, I'd say that he's a really good kisser.”

Frankie growled. “Look, Frankie,” Ed said, stepping between him and the girls. “They - we -- told you all we know. If you want to find out anything more, you'll have to ask Rita, okay?”

“I'll ask her all right, and she'd better have real good answers.”

Before he could say another word, the warning bell rang.

“Damn,” Frankie said. “I've got to get to class.” He turned and ran towards a side entrance to the building that was near to his first class. Ed's class was near Frankie's, and he ran off in the same direction. He kept a watch on Frankie in case the other boy doubled back to the girls.

Melanie and Karen ran, too. They met Rita a few feet from the door to their math class.

“Rita,” Karen said, gasping for breath, “Frankie...Frankie...knows...about...Brad.”

“What?” Rita spun around to face them, her expression one of shock and anger. “How'd he find out. Or, should I ask, why did you tell him?”

“Didn't...mean...to,” Melanie said. “I...I was...still...mad...at you...from the weekend. He overheard me talking to Karen.”

“How much did you tell him?”

“That we saw you at the movies - and what he looks like.”

“I told him that it looked like he was a good kisser,” Karen added with a smile.

“Karen! Why the hell did you tell him that? I thought we were friends.”

“We are - or we were. Maybe we still are, even after what you called me. I just thought that you deserved it for the way you've been acting towards Melanie and me.”

“Thanks a lot. This isn't over.”

“Yes, it is. At least for now.” Ms. Gorki, their math teacher, was standing in the doorway staring at the three of them. The three girls walked into the classroom heads bowed. Two were grinning; Rita was shaking her head in anger and disbelief.

* * * * *

“So how's it going with the debate,” Melanie asked. The two girls were taking their dinner break at the Port Landing.

“Pretty good. Vicky was really a big help with those books of hers.”

“I can imagine. If you got points for the size of those books, you'd have it won already.”

“To tell the truth, I think we do.”

“Are you sure. I mean Lea's pretty smart, and Ray's been in a couple of Snitter's debates already.”

“Max is no slouch either, and his dad's a lawyer, so he can get some help from him. To tell the truth, I was really scared when he picked their names to go up against us.”

“Being voted captain must've been a real thrill, too.”

“That was Pete's idea. I don't know if he thought he was being cute, or if he thought it was a compliment.”

“A compliment, I think. He really likes you.”

“I know, and it's sweet. I think part of the reason that I want to win is because I don't want to disappoint him.”

“You really like him, too, don't you?”

“Yes,” she blushed. “I guess I do. He's a great guy, a real friend.”

“And?”

“Okay, okay, and he's cute, real cute.” She sighed. “And a real good kisser.”

“Oooh, tell me about it.”

“Well, mostly what I have to tell is the double date we went on, but I sure enjoyed it. I have some real vague memories - part of the Boss' magic, I think - of kissing him on other occasions and enjoying those, too.”

“Yeah, I have some of the sort of memories about Ed. I hope they go away when we change back like the Boss said.”

“Amen, sister. Speaking of change, let's change the subject. This talking about the boys is, well...”

“Likewise. Okay, if Lea, Ray, and Max are so smart, why do you think you're going to win?”

“Because Vicky got us those books and showed us how to use them.”

“And?”

Karen frowned. Melanie was going after something. She decided to play along. “Because we want to win. I don't want to disappoint Pete, and I want to show Snitter what I think of his using those debates as punishment.”

“And?”

“Okay, and because we're just as smart as they are - maybe smarter.”

“That's what I wanted to hear, girlfriend. Now you're ready to take them.”

“Girlfriend? Yeah, I guess we are, thanks, Melanie.”

“No problem. I think getting to know you better has been one of the few good things to come out of all this.” They rose to shake hands, then fell into a mutual hug.

“Well, that's certainly touching. Or do you two swing both ways now?”

“Rita!” Melanie broke the hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Thirty day pass, remember. Actually, I was looking for you two.”

“What for,” Karen said.

“I just wanted to thank you two bitches for all the trouble you caused when you told Frankie about Brad.”

“We told you, Rita, he found out by accident.”

“Yeah, right. He's way too dumb to figure it out. You had to have told him.”

“You know, Rita,” Karen said. “That's always been a problem of yours.”

“Yeah, what's that?”

“You never give anybody besides yourself credit for having any brains.”

“Oh, and since when did you get so smart?”

“Since we all changed, I guess. I must really have been dumb to believe all that crap of yours since we were kids.”

“Hey, I was just trying to help you out.” She actually sounded genuine.

“You know, I think you believe that, and I guess I should say thanks. But it's over. I can think for myself now.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Look, Rita,” Melanie said. “We are sorry about what happened with you and Frankie - however it happened. Is there anything we can do to help you two get back together?”

“Oh, we already are. It took two days of arguing - and other things, but it's settled. He understands about cousin Brad and how you two misunderstood the peck on the cheek that I gave him.”

“He actually bought that?”

“Boys can be so willing to believe a story, especially when you give them the right incentive. We got back together last night - a couple times, in fact.” She giggled slightly at the joke. “He's even taking me to the dance that the junior class is throwing this Saturday.”

“How very nice for you.”

“I think so. Too bad you two losers won't be there.”

“As a matter of fact, we will,” Melanie said. “Ed and I are going.”

“And I'm going with Pete.”

“Oh, yes, those two boys you two go out with. Have you slept with them yet?”

“That is our business, Rita.”

“Meaning 'No'. Well, it's your loss, they're kind of cute in an immature way.” She looked at her watch. “I'm going to get some dinner and listen to some music. I'd invite you to join me, but I'm sure that your Boss has bathrooms for you to clean or something.”

She turned and walked towards the counter, her hips swaying invitingly in the thong bikini she wore. Melanie started after her, but Karen stopped her. “Melanie, let her be.”

“Why? Why can't I just deck her?”

“Because the Boss wouldn't like it. Remember, she said that Rita was going to be getting the worst of it because of her attitude.”

“She doesn't seem to be suffering.”

“Yeah, but the thirty days aren't over yet. Besides, she was right about one thing.”

“Yeah, what?”

“We do have to get back to work.”

Melanie closed her eyes and counted slowly to ten. “You're right, Karen, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it.” She turned and walked out of the restaurant.

* * * * *

“Alright, class,” Mr. Snitter said rising to his feet. “You've heard both sides of the argument. I'd like to thank our debaters on both sides. I'll have some additional comments after the voting.” He paused and looked at the class with a very serious expression. “We'll have the vote now. When you vote, please consider these things.” He pulled down a sliding blackboard and pointed as he spoke. “Content of argument...effectiveness of argument...and effectiveness of counter-argument. Not --” he pointed to a fourth item which had a line drawn through it, “Your friendship with or the popularity of the debaters.”

He gave the class a moment to consider what he'd say. “Now, everybody who felt the Affirmative - that's Karen, Pete, and Dana - won, raise your hand. Those who thought that the Negative - Lea, Ray, and Max - won, raise your hand. The vote is seventeen to twelve. Congratulations to the Affirmative team.”

There was a general round of applause and cheering. Karen, Pete, and Dana hugged. Lea came over and shook Karen's hand, the rest of her team following her lead. Mr. Snitter let this go on for a minute or two, then “Harrumphed” for the class to settle down.

“Let me say that I agree with the class' vote. Karen, you and your team did an excellent job of presenting the facts. May I ask where you got all that information?”

“A, umm, friend of mine from my part-time job. She's a history major over at the college, and she got some books from the library for us to use.”

“She showed Karen some tricks for digging out and organizing facts, too,” Pete said. “Karen showed them to the rest of us. They helped a lot.”

“They certainly did,” Mr. Snitter said, “and using them takes nothing away from your success in this debate. It's too late to do anything this year, but I'd like the three of you to considering joining the school's debate squad next Fall. We - the squad - could use students with your skills and motivation.”

The bell rang. “Alright, class. Read pages 245 to 263 for Monday, and answer the questions on page 264.” The class groaned. “And if you have any time left, have a good weekend. Class dismissed.”

As rest of the class headed out, the six debaters walked back to their desks to get their books.

“How about we meet after school to celebrate our victory?” Karen said. “I don't have to work today.”

“Sounds good,” Dana said. “Is our noble captain buying?”

“We kind of framed her into being captain,” Pete said. “I think we should pay.”

“How about we go dutch,” Karen said by way of compromise. She did appreciate the way Pete had jumped in with his suggestion. 'It was so sweet of him', she thought.

Dana and Pete agreed. Dana smiled and left for her next class. “We'll go modified dutch,” Pete said. “Dana and I will pay for ourselves, and I'll pay for my girlfriend.” He suddenly gave Karen a peck on the cheek and ran of to his own class, leaving her rubbing the cheek and smiling.

* * * * *

“Melanie, your date's here,” her mother called from the living room.

Melanie frowned. When she was Mel, She'd always hated how long it girls took getting ready for a date. Now that she was a girl, she was just as bad as any of other girl. Not that he had dated that many.

“Any other girl”? That's what she was all right, and would be - she did the math quickly in her head - for another nine days. It bothered her sometimes, despite the Boss' assurances that she'd change back. What really scared her was that she sometimes caught herself wondering what would be so bad about staying a girl. The Boss had said that she might want to - even after she became Mel again. But the Boss promised that it would be Mel, masculine Mel, who made the choice.

She shrugged, there wasn't much point except to “live with it” like the Boss had said. She finished doing her lipstick, fluffed her hair, and, satisfied with the total effect, went to meet her date.

She passed Lenny in the hall. He was heading back to his room with some comic books in his hand. “Hey, Squirt,” she said. Their relationship hadn't changed that much, the sort of good-natured teasing between siblings. “What's Superman up to this month?”

“Saving the world, same as always. I saw your boyfriend out front.”

“And?”

“He's a skinny so-and-so, isn't he?”

“Says the human skeleton.” Lenny was a little sensitive about his apparent lack of muscle. Mel had been the same way at that age, though he'd grown out of it after puberty added height - and muscles.

“Are you gonna kiss him? You gonna make out?”

“That, Squirt, is none of your business.” She ruffled his hair with her hand, something Lenny always disliked, and walked into the living room.

Ed was talking sports with her dad, but he stopped and broke into a smile when Melanie walked in. “Hi, Melanie. That's a beautiful prom gown.”

“Do you like it?” She swirled as if modeling a gown. She actually was wearing a blue tank top and a matching skirt that stopped a bit above her knees. “I love your tux.”

“Thanks.” He mimed straightening a tie. Ed wore a pale brown work shirt and a pair of dark brown slacks. He held a pin-on badge in the school colors, green and yellow, in his hand. He wore a similar one on his shirt. “I have your corsage right here. “He walked over and, with her father watching very closely, pinned the badge to her blouse.

The badge read “Class of 2001 Anti-Prom Gown” and matched the “Anti-Prom Tux” badge that he wore. School tradition from who knew how far back made the junior class dance an “Anti-Prom”, a casual mixer held the Saturday before Memorial Day weekend. A number of the conventions of the usual prom were kidded as a way of raising money for class projects. Their badges, for instance, had cost $10 each. A bit expensive, but - as the tradition said - a lot cheaper than buying or renting the real thing. Boys and girls usually each bought their own. Melanie and Ed had, and, again in keeping with the tradition, Melanie had given hers to Ed to hold until the night of the dance. Ed had paid for their tickets to the dance, an additional $10.

“I hope I'm not supposed to take an 'Anti-Prom' picture,” her father said. He pretended to be holding a camera.

Her mother swatted at her father's arm. “Stop it, Jack. I think it's a cute idea, pretending that it's real.”

“I suppose,” Jack Haywood said, squeezing his wife's hand gently. “I remember how pretty you looked at our junior prom.” He smiled at the memory. “You kids have a good time. Just remember the curfew. It's still in effect, and I hear the cops only give a half hour leeway to you prom kids.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” Melanie said. She kissed her father, then her mother, lightly on the cheek.

“We'll be back in time, sir,” Ed said as they left.

* * * * *

As arranged, Karen and Pete were waiting for them in the lobby. Karen was wearing an off-white pantset with dark red beaded trim on the top. Pete wore a green striped polo shirt and a pair of brown khaki slacks. They made the same “required” jokes about each others' “prom wear” as Pete drove them all to the school.

Tina and Harry Weiss met them near the door. Tina was wearing a double layer paisley skirt and a matching cami top that actually looked like a prom dress. Her badge was modified by a small piece of tape, so that it read “Anti-Anti-Prom Gown”. Harry wore a T-shirt colored to look like a tuxedo jacket, complete with tie and cummerbund, and a pair of black jeans.

“Figures you'd wear something like that,” Melanie said.

“Hey, you know us 'fashion geeks',” Tina said. “A prom is a prom - even an 'Anti-Prom'.”

“Nice tux,” Pete said.

Harry just shrugged. “Her idea, what can I say?”

“Why don't we just go inside,” Ed said. “We paid enough to go to this dance, we might as well go inside and enjoy it.”

The gym was decorated in paper mache with toilet paper streamers hanging down from the rafters. It was part of the tradition that some of the paper was still on rolls. A large banner with a pink ball gown and baby blue tux within the international “No” symbol hung over a stage at one end of the gym. “Tall Tommy” Thorpe, a local DJ, was playing music on a portable sound system set up next to the stage.

The three couples walked out onto the gym floor and began to dance. “Tall Tommy” played three fast songs in a row, the sort where each person just danced near, rather than with, their partner. Then, he called a “change of pace” and played a slow, romantic ballad. Karen stepped into Pete's arms. She could feel his body against hers as they moved to the music. It felt so very good to be in his arms. She sighed gently and rested her head on his shoulder. When she looked over, she could see Melanie a few feet off, dancing the same way, in Ed's arms.

The music ended much too quickly for both girls. “Tall Tommy” played another fast song, but then he followed it with two slow ones. Melanie and Karen found how much they enjoyed being their boyfriends arm, how safe and protected. It was nothing like the way they had felt as boys dancing with girls, but it was a wonderful feeling.

“Tall Tommy” began to play another fast tune. “How about we stop and get a soda or something,” Melanie said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Ed said. They walked over to where some tables and chairs were set up along a wall. Karen and Pete hadn't started dancing yet, and they followed Ed and Melanie over to a table.

Ed and Pete found out what the girls wanted to drink and headed off to the refreshment table. Melanie and Karen sat quietly munching pretzels from a bowl in the center of the table and listening to the music.

Dana and Tom Brill came over just as Pete and Ed came back with the sodas. “I hear congratulations are in order, Karen,” Tom said. “Dana said you guys wiped the floor in that debate in Snitter's class.”

“Teamwork,” Karen said. “Dana and Pete were great.”

“Hey, c'mon, Karen” Pete said. “You know very well that those guys would have ripped us to shreds without those books you got and all. If anybody deserves the credit, it's you.”

“It wasn't me, it was the books. I just got them for us.” Karen was enjoying the praise, especially from Pete, but she felt that she had to be at least a little modest.

“Where you get all that stuff anyway?”

“A friend of mine from the part time job Melanie and I have after school. She's a history major over at the college, and she got the books from the library and then showed me how to take notes and stuff.”

“Cool,” Pete said. “You know, I've been hearing you talking about that place where you two work so much that I'm getting curious. How about Ed and I come over and try it out some afternoon?”

“No!” Karen and Melanie both shouted at once.

“Why not,” Ed asked.

“Umm, well, it's - it's the place where we work, like Pete said.” Melanie was trying desperately to come up with a good answer.

“So?”

“So, we don't want you coming over while we're working,” Karen said.

“Umm, yeah! We get to keep working while our boyfriends hang out at a water park with a bunch of other girls.” Melanie said, guessing Karen's train of thought. “Tell me if that sounds fair to you?”

“No,” Pete said with a grin. “It might be fun for us, but it really wouldn't be fair to you - ouch!” He grabbed his arm where Karen had punched it.

“Besides, you girls would be the ones that we came to be with,” Ed said. “If we couldn't be spending the time with you, we really wouldn't want to go there. Would we, Pete?”

“No, we wouldn't.” Pete grinned. “Especially now that we know how hard you can hit if you really want to.”

“Now that we've settled that,” Tina said, “how about if we go over and see what sort of stuff they have to eat?”

They headed towards a long table where Susie Shaw and Danny Briscoe were selling food: soda, cookies, hot dogs, and cake, the Anti-Prom dinner. Tina and Harry were about to order when Wes Androchek burst in through a nearby door. “What's up, Wes,” Tom said.

“Ms. Gorki just caught a couple of kids fooling around in the health class.”

A number of people heard his words, and there was a quick run towards the classroom, halfway down the hall from the gym. The room had a large window, usually filled with health displays of one sort or another, but blinds blocked the view of the room. The door was open, though, and half a dozen people crowded through, stopping in the back of the room.

Ms. Gorki and Mr. Snitter were in the front of the room talking to a couple of students. The boy was tucking his shirt into his slacks, and the girl was rapidly buttoning her blouse. The textbooks and other materials that were normally on the desk were scattered on the floor around it. It was fairly obvious what the couple - Melanie and Karen stared in surprise - what Rita and Frankie had been doing when they were caught.

“This isn't a show,” Mr. Snitter said walking towards the door. He shooed the kids out of the room and closed the door behind them.

“Some prom night traditions keep on going strong,” Wes said.

“I wonder if Frankie did, too,” somebody said, and a number of kids - not all of them girls - giggled.

A few of the kids had headed back to the dance, but others had wandered over from the gym to see what was going on, when the door finally opened. Frankie and Rita walked out followed closely by Mr. Snitter and Ms. Gorki.

“There's nothing more to see here,” Mr. Snitter said. “Ms. Sandowski and Mr. DiAntonio let their exuberance get a bit out of hand.”

“Why don't you all just go back to the dance,” Ms. Gorki added.

Most of the kids headed back towards the gym, but Melanie and Karen lingered a bit. “Are you okay, Rita,” Melanie said, her concern genuine.

“A lot you two care,” Rita said. “This is your fault, Haywood.”

“My fault? I wasn't the one in there with Frankie.”

“I wouldn't have been in there either, if you hadn't messed things up with that Boss of yours.”

“The Boss?” Karen said. “Oh, I see. Still blaming everybody but yourself, aren't you, Rita?”

“Whoever's fault it is,” Mr. Snitter said, “Ms. Sandowski and Mr. DiAntonio here are on two-day suspension from class. They'll be leaving the dance as soon as their parents come to get them.”

“Two day,” Rita said, looking unhappy.

“Our - my parents, my dad? Shit!” Frankie looked much unhappier. The rumor around the school was that Frankie's father didn't care what his son did so much as whether or not he got caught doing it.

“I'm sure that Ms. Sandowsky appreciates your concern,” Ms. Gorki said to Melanie and Karen, “but you two girls should really go back to the gym.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Karen said, and the two girls hurried back to where Pete and Ed were waiting for them.

* * * * *

“Yo, Ormand, wait up.” Phil turned at the sound of his name. It was Frankie DiAntonio.

“Yeah, what do you want, Frankie? You're not even supposed to be around here until your suspension is over on Wednesday.”

“Never mind that,” Frankie said. He really didn't want to talk about getting caught - or about his father's reaction. His butt still hurt from the strap. “You're in O'Keefe's auto shop class, ain't you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I hear you're one of the guys that he's letting try out that new diagnostic PC he got. Right?”

“Yeah, I'm one of them,” he said cautiously. “There's eight of us, even a couple of girls.”

Frankie spat. “Girls! Girls got no damn business being in auto shop.”

“Maybe not, but they're there, and I can't do a thing about it.”

“No, but you can do something about that PC. Is it as good as they say?”

“Better. That thing can tell just about anything that's wrong with a car.”

“Cool. You know, I bet there's a lot of guys, auto shops and like that, that'd pay good money for that machine.”

“It's not the machine. It's the program, those five CD Rom disks have the whole thing. You could load it into any good PC.”

“That's even better.”

“What do you mean?”

“A guy could get those disks, make a bunch of copies, and sell them for - oh, a couple thousand bucks each, easy.”

“Yeah, but who do you sell them to.” Phil smiled. The idea had a lot going for it if he could work out the details. “There's always the chance that somebody would tell the cops.”

“Yeah, but if you knew - or had, say, a partner who knew which auto shops would be interested enough not to go to the cops...”

Phil put his arm around Frankie's shoulder. “Tell me more, partner.”

* * * * *

Rita was waiting when Melanie came out Wednesday morning. She was wearing a very short green romper over a white tank top. Melanie and Karen each wore stone washed jeans. Melanie had a pale blue cami top, while Karen wore bright yellow sleeveless blouse.

“Umm, hi, Rita,” Melanie said. “You waiting for Frankie?”

“No, dammit. I've got to ride the bus with you losers today. Frankie's still mad at me for what happened Saturday night.”

“Why should he be mad at you?”

“I guess, I, umm, got a little loud.” She giggled despite her anger. “That's how they caught us. Somebody heard me and told Gorki.”

“But couldn't you talk to him while you guys were suspended?” Karen said. “Make up with him over the phone?”

The bus stopped at their corner, and they ran to meet it. Once they had gotten to some seats in the back, Rita continued.

“No chance of that. My parents are fit to be tied. They were ready to have him arrested for rape until I convinced that that I wanted to do it. They wouldn't let me near the phone or out of the apartment the whole time.”

“So you're going to make up in school today?” Karen said.

“No, I'm going to talk to him today. If he's not so mad that he won't even talk to me, we'll make up tonight.” The way Rita said it left no doubt as to how she intended to make up with Frankie.

“So then everything should be okay by tomorrow,” Karen said.

“Things should be great between me and Frankie, but I'm still mad at you two.”

“C'mon, Rita,” Melanie said. “What are you mad at us for? Taking that purse was your idea, remember. If anything, we should be mad at you.”

“Bull! I'm not sure that you two didn't set me up somehow with that Boss of yours. Maybe it was even one of you that ratted me out to Gorki last Saturday.”

“Aw, Rita,” Karen said. “You know that's not true.”

“Yeah, we were inside the gym dancing when you two got caught.”

“You got there quick enough, though.”

“Well, to tell the truth,” Melanie said. “We were at the refreshments, over by the door, when Wes came in and said that something was going on.”

“Your turn, Karen,” Rita said. “Your turn to change the story.”

“Stop that, Rita,” Karen said. “We both know that you're just looking for somebody to blame for your own bad luck.”

The bus pulled to a stop at the corner by the school. Rita stood up. “We'll see who blames who this weekend.”

“What are you planning, Rita,” Melanie said, following her off the bus. Karen did the same.

“Oh, you'll see.”

“A word to the wise-ass, Rita,” Karen said as they walked towards the school. “I wouldn't try to do anything at the park.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Look at yourself, Rita. The woman who did this to you owns Bikini Beach. If she did that to you for stealing her purse, what do you think she's going to do if you mess with two of her employees or - even worse - do something to mess up her water park?”

Rita shuddered. “Okay, maybe I won't do anything at the park, but I'm still pissed at you two for what happened.”

“If I were you, Rita, I'd be thinking about getting together with Frankie this weekend,” Karen said.

“Yeah, remember what happens Monday night,” Melanie added.

““What happens Monday night?”

“We get our old lives back.” Melanie paused and opened the door to the school for the other two. “Come Tuesday morning, we'll be guys again.”

* * * * *

“Haywood!” Melanie was doing jumping jacks with the rest of her gym class, when Ms. Serranno called her name. “Go get dressed and report to Mr. O'Keefe in auto shop.”

“Excuse me, Ms. Serranno, do you know why he wants to see me?”

“That's between him and you. All they told me was to send you over. Now get going.” She put her hands on her hips and stared at the rest of the class. “What are the rest of you looking at? Jumping jacks! One! Two! One! Two!”

* * * * *

“Please sit over there with the others, Ms. Haywood.” Mr. Snitter was waiting when Melanie got back to auto shop. Discipline was one of the duties of the assistant principal, and he was pacing the room trying to instill a fear of G-d into the students as they arrived. Phil Ormand, Carl Jackson, Wes Androchek, and Mike Schwartz were already there, sitting well apart from each other in the classroom section. Stacy came in just after Melanie had, so the two walked over together.

When they tried to sit together, Snitter said, “at least two seats apart, please, and Stacy shifted over. Fred Reinhart and Harry Weiss walked in a few minutes later.

“Mr. O'Keefe was putting things away after your 6th period class, when he discovered that the new CD Rom disks for the diagnostic computer were missing. Since they were here for your class, I'm afraid that you eight students are the prime suspects. Before we begin, does anyone have anything to say?”

“Yeah,” Phil said. “I'd like to call my father's lawyer.”

“I want a lawyer, too,” Fred said.

“Do you have a lawyer, Mr. Reinhart?”

“No, but I want one, anyway.”

“As of right now, all you are is a material witnesses. If you'd like to confess to anything, we'll see about a lawyer. That goes for the rest of you.” He sighed. “Mr. Ormand, since you already have a lawyer - or your father does - you can call him. However...school board regulations allow me to conduct a search for missing items. Detective --”

A tall man of about fifty stepped into view. He was wearing a suit. With him were a slender man of about forty and a rather trim looking woman of about the same age in police uniforms. “I'm Detective Sargent Jack Warrick,” the older man said. “These are Officers Dennison and Leiber. They'll be taking you, one at a time, to a couple of empty classrooms to conduct the personal search. Mr. O'Keefe, Mr. Snitter, and I will look through your book bags, and other officers are currently checking your lockers.”

“You've got no right to do this,” Carl Jackson said, jumping to his feet.

“I'm afraid that I do under state and federal law as well as school board rules. By the way, those disks cost in the thousands of dollars, so whoever did take them is looking at a charge of grand theft.”

“Why don't we start with Mr. Jackson and Ms. Brenner,” Sgt. Warrick said. “That will give young Mr. Ormand here a chance to call his father.”

* * * * *

“We've searched the kids' lockers, their book bags, we even searched them.” Warrick scratched his head. “If one of them took those disks, he - or she - figured a damned good place to hide them.”

Mr. Ormand bristled. How dare they accuse an Ormand of something like this? “If you have no proof of anything, then I'll be taking my son home. For all we know O'Keefe stole the things himself.” He chuckled to himself. The best defense always was an offensive move.

“I still have some questions,” Warrick said, not letting himself get distracted by the accusation.

Hess, the lawyer Ormand had brought with him, stepped forward. “I think that young Mr. Ormand here has answered all the questions he needs to answer.”

Melanie suddenly had an idea of how to find the disks. “Can - can I ask a question,” she said.

“I don't see what --” Hess said.

“This young lady has been a lot more cooperative than your client's kid,” Warrick said. “Ask your question, young lady.”

“Well, I was just thinking. This year, we're all taking American literature for our English class. One of the authors we studied was Edgar Allen Poe.”

“What has that to do with anything?”

“Let her continue, Mr. Hess.”

“Well, we read a couple of his poems, 'The Raven' and 'Annabelle Lee', and two of his stories, The Tell-Tale Heart and The Purloined Letter.”

“I remember that last one,” Warrick said. “And I see what you're saying. Mr. Snitter, where's your computer lab?”

Mr. Snitter lead them all to the lab, a large room on the same floor as the auto shop. Students were encouraged to do projects in the lab, so it was generally open, with a teacher or teaching assistant present to help out if needed. There was a rack or two of disks next to each of the twenty PCs in the room.

“You have their schedules, Mr. Snitter,” Warrick said. “Are any of the suspects taking computer lab?”

Snitter leafed through the papers on his clipboard. The computer lab is open to all of the students, but - yes - only Phil Ormand is taking it this term. As a matter of fact, he had it last period, just after auto shop.”

“That doesn't mean anything,” Hess said. “Any student can come in here.”

“Which PC do you use, Phil?” Warrick said.

“You don't have to answer that,” Hess said.

“No, but why shouldn't he? Besides, we can check all twenty PCs if we have to.”

Phil nervously pointed to one of the PCs, a newer looking unit on a desk away from most of the others. Warrick went over and began looking through the rack. He smiled after a moment and held up a handful of disks. “Found 'em. Would you care to explain, son?”

“Don't say anything,” Phil's father said. “It's some kind of frame.”

“Your dad's lawyer is here, if you want to talk to him first, son. You have that right, but I would like to know why you took the disks.”

“I - I wanted to try them out on another PC, that's all.” Phil's mind raced to come up with a good answer. “I was going to make a set, so I could use them on my own car. I - I was going to put them back, honest.”

“You know, son, that still counts as theft. You can't just take a program that somebody sells for money because you want it.”

“Look,” Ormand said. “My son's cooperated. He took the disks, but not for any sort of profit, and he's returning them now before he could even make a copy. If it's so damn important to the school, I'll buy it a back-up set. Just so nobody presses any charges against my kid. Is it a deal?”

Warrick frowned. This wasn't the first time he'd seen Ormand buy his kid out of trouble. “Well, if Mr. Snitter and the school don't press charges, and the disks are returned undamaged...”

“I'll have Mr. O'Keefe check the disks,” Mr. Snitter said with a sigh, “but I'm sure that they're fine. After all, the boy just wanted - wanted to copy them.” He took the disk from Warrick and stuck them in his coat pocket. “You students can go to your next classes. Tell your teachers that I'll speak to them shortly about your coming in late.”

The students left. Mr. Snitter walked over to Ormand and shook the larger man's hand. “I'm glad that we could resolve this matter, Mr. Ormand. We already have a back-up set of disks, but if you were serious about making some sort of donation, we're currently having a fund-raiser for a new PA system for the school.”

“I'll be glad to discuss that with you about that in your office, Mr. Snitter. My company may even be able to get a discount on the equipment. You go ahead to your office, and I'll join you on a moment. I'd just like to talk to my son for a bit first.”

“Certainly. I'll see you shortly.” Snitter shook Ormand's hand and left. When he was sure that neither of the Ormands or Mr. Hess could see him, he grimaced as if he'd just had to swallow something particularly bitter.

“Thanks, Dad,” Phil said.

His father turned quickly and slapped him in the face. “That was plain stupid, Phil. Do you know how much it's going to cost me to keep your ass out of jail this time?”

“But, Dad, that diagnostic system is fantastic. It would save us a fortune in keeping the cars running.” He wasn't going to mention Frankie. He knew enough about the other boy to know that that implicating him would without really strong proof would not be a smart thing to do. All he had was Frankie's handshake, and that was hardly enough to prove anything.

“You weren't trying to save me money. You saw something, you wanted it, so you just took it. Then, you were dumb enough to get caught. What is that 'Purloined Letter' crap, anyway?”

“It's a story by Poe. A guy steals an envelope with important papers. The cops know he took it to his apartment, so they search the place. Only they can't find any secret hiding places. Then the detective in the story figures out that the guy didn't put it any special place. He left it in plain sight with a bunch of other envelopes. That's what I did, I hid the disks with a bunch of other disks next to my PC.”

“Not bad, not bad at all. You may just be smarter than you look, son. Too bad that bitch had to figure it out.”

“Yeah, but I don't think she's going to get a chance to gloat much about it.” Now that he was found out, there was no way that he could get Frankie's help in dealing with Melanie. Still, he should be able to handle the little bitch by himself.

“Now that would be a shame.” He put his arm on his son's shoulder. “Just try to be careful this time, so they can't trace it back to you.” Ormand would have preferred that his son not do anything, but the kid was too stubborn for his own damn good. He'd just hope for the best and made a mental note to have that shyster, Hess, be ready to clean up any messes Phil left behind him.

* * * * *

After school, Phil followed Melanie and Karen's bus to the park. He wasn't going to do anything near the school; too easy to get caught or to have something traced back to him. Now a water park, that was different. Lots of slippery places where a person could fall and get hurt. And all those pools and everything, a person could get hurt there, too; she could maybe even drown. And wouldn't that be too bad?

He pulled into a parking space near the gate, waiting until the bitch was inside. He kept a spare swim suit and towel in his trunk, just in case, a lot of kids did in this oceanside town. He got them out and walked casually towards the gate. The blonde at the gate was pretty, if a few years older than he was, but he never worried about that. Dad's cash was a great equalizer.

“Hi. How much to get in?”

“This is a private park. We don't sell admissions.”

“Oh. Well, is there any way I can get in, then?”

“Yes, we sell passes, a lot of different types. How long...”

He tossed her his Gold Card. “Just give me the top of the line.”

The girl looked at him oddly. Impressed by the card, he guessed. She ran the card through a reader and entered an amount. A moment later, she handed him a pen and a receipt to sign. When he had, she gave him back the card along with a gold colored receipt. “Welcome to Bikini Beach, Phil,” she said with a smile. “The Men's Locker Room is over that way. Please shower before you go out. It's a Health Department regulation.

Phil headed in and found an empty locker. The place looked a lot smaller than the Women's Locker Room had. Good, that meant there were a lot more women than men around. He'd been meaning to check this place out, anyway. Maybe he'd hang around for a while after he took care of the Melanie. He found an empty locker and began to undress.

He pulled on a pair of speedos and walked over to admire himself in a mirror near the door. Phil ran track, and his body was long and lanky. The speedos showed off his “package” to good effect. He smiled at the possibilities the park might offer as he walked over and turned on a shower.

The shower was a surprise; it had a pulsating head that shot out the water just the way he liked it. Phil closed his eyes to better concentrate on the soothing feeling and never noticed the pink mist rising from the water.

After a minute or so, he turned off the water and headed for the door. His body felt strange, kind of out of balance. His chest felt heavy, and he seemed to be walking funny, swinging his hips a lot more than usual.

Phil looked down and saw his nipples darken and enlarge. A moment later, two bumps appeared underneath them, bumps that grew rapidly into two round, very female breasts. “What the...” he said then stopped. His voice had changed pitch from his usual deep tenor to a high sweet contralto.

He ran over to the mirror that he had posed in by the door. The girl looking back at him might have been his sister, if he'd had one. Her hair was the same color as his, a deep brown mass of curls that framed her face and hung down to just below her shoulders. The eyes were the same hazel that his were, and her face looked a lot like his. Only the chin was rounder and the cheekbones higher. There were long feminine lashes on those eyes, and her nose was smaller and a bit upturned.

The body didn't look like his. It didn't look like any male body. She was slender, almost boyish, but with two of the most beautiful breasts he'd ever seen, 36-C he guessed, a narrow waist, and lush hips. The legs were slender with more than enough curve to be interesting. In heels, they'd be fantastic. She wore a lacy french-cut bikini bottom that was smooth against her crotch.

She looked fantastic, but her expression was one of horror as Phil realized that she was him.

“The Boss doesn't allow topless bathing.” Phil turned to see Melanie standing there next to the blonde from the front gate. “You'd better put this on.” She tossed him a bikini top that matched the bottom he was wearing.

“What's going on here? What the hell did you bitches do to me?” He put the bikini top on quickly without even realizing that he had done so.

“She doesn't like language like that either, Felicia.”

“Felicia? Who the hell is Felicia?”

“You are, dear, Felicia Ormand,” the blonde said with a smile.

“You're crazy. That's not my name. I'm Felicia. No, that's not right. My name is Felicia, not Felicia. I'm not a girl. I was born a girl.”

“That's right, dear. As far as anybody else - even your parents - are concerned, you were born Felicia Ormand.”

“No, please, please change me back.” Felicia - even she couldn't think of herself as Phil anymore - startled herself by breaking out in tears. She collapsed onto the bench sobbing. Her mind reeled as reality shifted around her. She was confused and felt very afraid.

“Why should we,” asked the blonde, “assuming that we could.”

“My Daddy will pay you a lot of money.” 'Daddy'? That didn't sound right.

“Why should he pay anything?” the blonde asked again. “He's quite happy with his polite, obedient little daughter. She's a little too goody-goody for his taste, but she never gives him any real trouble.”

“What - what are you talking about? My Daddy doesn't have a daughter, just me.”

“Oh, but he does. You are Joe Ormand's daughter.” She paused for a second. “You see, Phil was a rich brat who learned early that his father's money and his silver tongue could get him out of almost anything. But he was never born. Felicia was. She's - you're -- a good girl, aren't you?”

“Yes, yes, ma'am. I try to be.” Felicia wanted to scream. She should be yelling, hitting, doing whatever she could to get changed back. But she - oh, Lord - she didn't want to. She had a second chance somehow, and she wasn't going to let her old self ruin it. She knew exactly who she had been, and she was suddenly very ashamed of him.

“Will I ever change back?” There were two possible answers, and each of them scared a different part of her.

“No. Phil was in such a hurry to get in here and hurt Melanie that he didn't stop to ask questions. He just asked for the 'top of the line', that's a lifetime pass. They're not refundable and can't be transferred.” She smiled. “You'll be Felicia forever. On the other hand, nobody ever tried to steal the computer disks from your school's auto shop.”

“I - I'm sorry about doing that.” She looked up at her classmate. “Melanie, I'm sorry for what I - Phil - I - whoever did, for even thinking about hurting you. Can you forgive me?”

“Sure. As far as I'm concerned, heck, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, it never happened.” She reached out for Felicia's hand and shook it gently in friendship.”

“I'm glad that everything is settled,” the blonde said. “By the way, I'm Anya. My grandmother owns the park. You two can talk later if you'd like. Right now, Melanie has to get back to work. You're welcome to stay and look around the park, Felicia. After all, you do have a lifetime pass.” She smiled and headed towards the door.

“I do have to go to work now, Felicia. I'll see you later, okay?”

“Okay, Melanie, and, Anya, - well - thanks.”

* * * * *

The park was crowded by early Saturday afternoon. The place was ready. Jenny had spent the last week going over every piece of equipment, particularly the pump and filter system. Melanie had helped, enjoying the opportunity to work with the skilled handyperson. Karen had worked with Belinda, Holly, and Norma, cleaning the kitchen areas in both Port Landing and the Tiki Hut.

Now they were working together on a food run, wheeling a cart from the supply room loaded with four metal bottles of soda syrup to the Landing. Karen sighed as they pushed the cart past the Lagoon. The water cannons shot out a blast of water that looked so inviting on such a hot afternoon.

“I know,” Melanie said. “Maybe we can go for a quick swim during our break.”

The Boss gave her staff a twenty minute break around the middle of the afternoon, honor system, or course. On a day like this, she actually encouraged the staff to use the facilities. Even with the new doctor on duty, heat exhaustion was definitely something to be avoided.

They unloaded the bottles and waited while Marta hooked one of them up to the coke machine. “Want to try it out,” she said.

“Yeah,” Melanie said. “It's pretty darn hot out there.”

“Orange for me,” Karen said. “Tall and cool is just what I need.”

“And put it on my tab.” Melanie and Karen spun around at the voice.

“Felicia,” Melanie said. “How are you doing?”

“Just fine - now.” She was dressed in a golden tankini with a matching wrap-around beach skirt, sandals with a one-inch heel, and a big floppy hat. It was hard to believe that she'd been Phil Ormand only two days ago.

“You look like you've really adjusted to being a girl.” Karen said.

“Oh, but I've always been a girl; just ask anybody.” She smiled as she said it. “Seriously, it's still something that I'm getting used to, but I'm enjoying it. I - it's hard to explain. As Phil, I had to keep proving just how much better I was than everybody else. Anybody got in my way - pow! I mean, that's what I was doing when I bought my pass, looking to hurt Melanie for figuring out where I hid those disks.”

“And now?”

“Well, some - no -- a lot of the aggression is gone. I still want to prove myself, but I have to prove myself to me, not to my Dad or the kids at school or anybody else. And I can prove myself by doing the right thing, not just the thing that makes me look good or gets me some money.”

“Sounds like you've really got your act together,” Melanie said.

“I hope so. I am still adjusting. It still feels a little weird to be dressing up like a girl, even if I do like the way I look.”

“What about boys?”

“What about them?” She blushed. “I - I'll admit that I'm starting to notice them in a way I didn't before. I think that's part of the reason that I came here. It's kind of the reverse of what that blonde - what was her name? Oh, yeah, Anya - what Anya said after I changed. Her grandmother created the park so females would have a place to go without having to worry about being ogled by men. I'm here now because, well, because, I was starting to worry a little about wanting to ogle men - or to be ogled by them.”

“It's going to happen you know,” Karen said. “You're a healthy girl now. Boys will start looking good to you eventually.”

“I know, I know. Part of me wants it to happen, but part of me is still a little afraid. Being here is helping me get used to the idea.”

“Well,” Melanie said, “if there's anything we can do to help, just ask.”

“Same here,” Karen added.

Felicia hugged both girls. “Thanks, thanks so very much. I - I'm so new at this. You two have been girls all your lives, and it's great that you want to help me. Especially after what I - what Phil wanted to do to you, Melanie.”

“All our..., but Karen and I - oof!”

“It never happened,” Karen said. “At least not since you changed. You're our friend now. As far as everybody else is concerned, you've always been our friend. Why shouldn't we want to help you?”

“I - ooh - thanks.” Felicia hugged them again, tears in her eyes. “But you two probably have to get back to work. I don't want to get you in trouble. Just let me pay for those sodas.” She broke the hug and reached for her purse.

Marta leaned across the counter. “It's okay, miss -- Felicia. Our Boss lets us get free drinks while we're working, so long as we don't abuse the privilege. On a day like this, with what they were just working on, a couple of free drinks is no problem.”

“We appreciate the offer, though, Felicia,” Melanie said looking at her watch. “But I'm afraid that we do have to get back to work.”

“Okay, then. See you later.” She smiled and headed off in the direction of the Old Swimming Hole.

Once she was out of earshot, Melanie turned to Karen and said, “why did you poke me in the ribs just then?”

“Because you were about to tell Felicia that we weren't really girls.”

“What do you mean? She knows - doesn't she?”

“Why should she? As far as Phil was concerned, we'd always been Melanie and Karen. Why should she find out otherwise just because she changed?”

“You're right. Wow! This place is even weirder than I thought it was.”

* * * * *

Karen was running a phone message to one of the members when she heard somebody crying nearby. She looked around. A young girl, maybe 10, with her hair in pigtails was sitting under one of the trees near the volleyball area, crying her heart out.

“Are you okay?” Karen asked. “Can I get somebody for you or something?”

“Yeah,” the girl said looking up. “Get me - me!”

“What do you mean?”

“You -- you're staff here, so you know how the place works. I mean how it really works, right?”

“I guess so.”

“My name's Tammy Sue, but it used to be Tammy Sue -- darn, I can't even say it any more. I used to be a seventeen-year old boy. I was supposed to graduate high school in a couple weeks and go on to college in the Fall. My brat of a sister -- she's thirteen, by the way -- got upset about how much everybody was paying attention to me instead of her. She talked our Mom into bringing us here, and, well, you can see what happened.”

“It may not be too bad. How long a pass did your mother buy?”

“Just for the weekend. Janie -- that's my sister -- called ahead and pretended to be Mom. She had them change me into a little kid like this, so she'd be the big sister.”

“Yes, but it's still only for the weekend. Even with the Monday holiday, its' not that long. Can't you manage it?”

“If it was the weekend, I guess I could. The problem is that my Mom's thinking of buying me a lifetime pass.”

“Why?” she asked cautiously. “Is there something that you're not telling me?”

“Mom had me, umm, before she got out of high school. It really bothered her to have a kid who was about to go to college when she wasn't even thirty-five yet.” The girl began to cry again. “Now, her two kids are still in grade school, and she doesn't feel like an old lady. I -- I don't want to be a g-girl, and I sure don't want to have -- to have to grow up all over again.”

Karen put her arms around the young girl and held her while she continued to sob. She stroked Tammy Sue's head and tried to comfort her.

“Can I help?” Karen and Tammy Sue looked up to see Anya standing near them.

“You!” Tammy Sue spat. “You're the one who sold my Mom that pass. Look what you already did.”

“I know, and I'm sorry, Tammy. I've been looking for you all over the park.”

“Why? Did you come to gloat, or to tell me that this is permanent now?”

“Neither, dear. Your mother came to me a little while ago to see about upgrading the pass to a lifetime membership. I told her that I wouldn't do it unless you asked me to.”

“You --you won't.” She smiled, and her whole body seemed to relax. “Honest”

“No, dear. Your sister's need for some extra attention and your mother's vanity are hardly reasons to totally change your life. The only reason that I agreed to the request was because Janie asked me over the phone. She told me that you were a bully who kept picking on his little sister and needed to be taught a lesson. By the time I found out the truth, you'd already been changed.”

“Can you change me back -- I mean right now?”

“I'm sorry, but our passes are non-transferable and non-refundable. The best I can do is to alter it, so you're your true age. You'd still be a girl, but you'd be the older sister again.”

“Could you really do that; change me into a seventeen-year old girl?” She thought for a moment. “While you're at it, could you give me a really good female figure?”

“Yes, if that's what you want.”

“I think so. I'd like a little payback on Janie.” She chuckled. “She's kind of self-conscious about how slowly her figure is developing. It would drive her up the wall to see me walking around looking like a centerfold. Come to think of it, I'm not sure that Mom would be that happy with a daughter who looked like a grown-up woman.”

“If you're sure that's what you want, Tammy, then go take another shower. You'll change into just the sort of girl we've described. But...”

“Great.” Tammy smiled and ran off before Anya could say another word.

“Well, you settled her problem,” Karen said.

“No, I replaced it with another one.”

“What do you mean, Anya?”

“As a ten-year old, Tammy Sue had no female sex drive. But at seventeen, especially with the 'centerfold' body she asked for...”

Karen shuddered. “I see what you mean. Tammy's going to be one horny babe for the next two days. She'll hate it.”

“Maybe - or maybe not. You and Melanie will be changing back on Monday. Tammy Sue could wind up as the replacement for one of you; a permanent replacement.”

* * * * *

Just after noon on Sunday, Melanie got to do a turn behind the ticket counter, while Anya had lunch.

“Now remember,” Anya said. “You don't sell a pass for anything longer than two days to a male. If somebody wants a longer one, use the phone to buzz Grandmother or me. You can play with the prices of the passes a little, but if you give too much of a discount to anybody, you'd better have a good reason. Grandmother doesn't believe in giving those things away.”

“I didn't know you two had cell phones.”

“We don't. We don't need them. The phone is so you or whoever else is working the counter feels comfortable. It works, well it works the same way a lot of stuff around here works.”

“Speaking of magic, if I do sell a pass to a male, do I get to decide what sort of a girl he turns into?”

“Good heavens, no.”

“What decides then?”

“Well, let's just say that, since Grandmother cast the spell that causes the change, it has her sense of justice. Understand?”

“I'm not sure that I do, but I'll take your word for it. Enjoy your lunch?”

“Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“No, I had a big breakfast - big for a girl, anyway, a glass of milk and a whole bowl of cereal. With fruit, too.”

“Okay, 'Blimp', I'll see you in about a half an hour.” Anya waved and headed off into the park.

The line was fairly long. Mostly it was women, a lot of them in fairly skimpy swim suits, not all of which were hidden by beach robes. 'Some girls want to be stared at even when they know there's no guys around,' Melanie thought.

A striking looking woman in purple shorts and a matching bandeau top strode past the line and into the park. Melanie was about to call for her to stop, when Belinda, who was back on stick detail, this time in the picnic area by the gate, spoke up. “Relax. That's Ronnie Harris. She's got a lifetime pass, and she and the Boss are thick as thieves. Besides, she's rich; owns that condo apartment building across from the park.”

“That place? Say, don't Jenny and Liz live there?”

“Anya, too. I hear she has a deal with the Boss. Her tenants get a discount on memberships, too.”

“No wonder she walked in like she owned the place. She almost does.”

“Yeah, but don't let it spook you. I've talked to her once or twice. She's real friendly.”

“Thanks.”

“Don't mention it, but hadn't you better get back behind the counter? That line isn't getting any shorter.”

Melanie scurried back behind the counter. Her next customers were a husband and wife with a little girl about seven. The husband kept muttering about having work that he should be doing. His wife's only comment was that it wouldn't hurt for him to spend the day with his daughter. Melanie sold them a one-day pass. A few minutes later, she saw the wife leaving the Locker Room and walking into the park with identical twin girls.

“A babe as pretty as you shouldn't be working behind that counter,” a voice said about five minutes later. Melanie looked up to see two boys about her own age, a tall freckled redhead and a shorter, well-muscled blonde.

“And where should I be?”

“Hanging out and enjoying this place with the best - us. How much are the tickets, Babe?”

“We don't sell tickets, but we do have one and two day passes.”

“How much?” Melanie told them the price, and the boys frowned.

“Cripes,” the redhead said. “Even that one-day pass is more than I've got. How about you, Jimmy?”

Jimmy, the blonde, shrugged. “Not enough, Mark.” He leaned forward and smiled at Melanie. It was meant to be charming, but the smile reminded Melanie of a lion looking at an antelope. “If you can't cut us a deal, Babe, you and all the other girls in the park, well, you won't know what you're missing.”

“We can't have that,” Melanie said, smiling back. “I think a couple of guys like you deserve to be in the park.” She gave a figure for two two-day passes that was about two-thirds of what a single one-day pass normally cost. The boys eagerly paid.

“Don't forget to shower,” Melanie said, handing them the passes. “It's a health department rule. And come back over when you're done. I have to work here for a while, but maybe we can arrange to meet afterwards.”

Mark, the redhead grabbed the passes and they all but ran for the showers. A few minutes later, two very pretty girls, a slender redhead and a rather voluptuous blonde, walked over to the booth. They were both wearing string bikinis, the bottom of the blonde's being little more than a g-string.

“We were, like, supposed to come back here,” the blonde said. Somehow, she had gotten some chewing gum.

“Yeah,” said the redhead, “but I'm not sure why. Hey, where's all the guys?” Her voice was a high soprano that made her sound like she was six years old.

Melanie smiled. “Didn't you know? This is a park for women only.”

The redhead pouted. “Aw, where's the fun in that? C'mon, Jamie. She says there's no guys here.”

“No guys? Are you sure, Marcia?”

“That's what she said. Let's head down to the real beach. On a day like this there should be lots of guys around.” They walked away, hips swaying invitingly. Mark and Jimmy had wanted to get laid. They would be.

Melanie spent the next twenty minutes selling or checking passes from a long line of women. One car, a green Chevy with three college guys in it, slowed down, then stopped near the entrance. The guys were about to get out, when Melanie saw one of them point to the “Bikini Beach” sign and say something to the others. There seemed to be some arguing, then the other two boys stared at the sign. They all nodded, and the car sped off.

* * * * *

The Boss was in her office working on some papers when there was a knock on the door. She looked up from a bill of lading. “Come in, Felicia.”

Felecia Ormand walked in and sat in a chair opposite the desk. “How did you know it was me?”

“It's a simple trick that a friend of mine showed me. He uses it all the time at his store. Now, what did you want to see me about? You aren't upset about your transformation, are you. We told you that the pass can't be revoked.”

“No, I've thought about it - thought about it a lot. My new life is much better than my old one was or ever could be.”

“What is it then?” She knew, but she wanted Felicia to say it.”

“I'd like to talk to you about a, um, friend of Phil's, a boy named Frankie.”

* * * * *

Karen was working as cashier at the Port Landing. It was the short lull between “afternoon snack” and “supper”, so she was relaxing, reading a Barbara Courtland paperback somebody had left behind the counter. The book was hardly the sort that Ken would have liked, but Karen had actually caught herself enjoying it.

“Are they sure that they want you at a cash register,” a voice said. “I mean, you do have a record for theft.”

“And hello to you, too, Rita. Come to hassle Melanie and me?”

“No, dear, this was just an added benefit of coming to the park today.”

“Why aren't you off someplace with Frankie - or maybe one of your other boyfriends?”

“Oh, I'm just seeing Frankie, now. I invested too much time in getting his mind off last weekend to throw it away. Anyway, he had to go with his family today, and he couldn't get out of it. We're getting together tonight.” She giggled at her unintentional pun.

“And in the meantime you decided to come here.”

“Why not. I've still got that damned pass. Why shouldn't I use it. This is a really nice place. I'd like to come back some time as my real self.”

“You know that's not possible. This place is girls only.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“You could always stay a girl.”

“So could you. Do you want to?”

“Heck, no! It's been interesting, I guess, but I'm looking forward to getting my old self back.”

“Me too.”

“You know, Rita, I think this is the first time we've ever really talked - just talked - like friends.”

“Yeah, it must be some weird girl thing. I'm not really sure that I'm even mad at Haywood anymore for screwing up and landing us in this mess -- or for last Saturday.”

“You know that neither of those was her fault. You - no, I hate to say it, but it was you and me that made Mel steal that purse. Why you and Frankie were in that classroom, well, that's between you and Frankie.”

Rita stared at Karen for a moment, her eyebrow arched in surprised. “You've changed, Geller, and I'm not talking about being a girl. You've got some kind of new attitude, and I'm not sure that I like it.” She turned as if to walk away from Karen.

“Well, you haven't, Rita, at least not where it really counts. You owe the park $4.73 for that salad and coke you had.”

* * * *

Melanie and Karen sat a blanket spread out on the grass watching the Monday night fireworks.

“May I join you, girls?”

“Sure, Boss,” Melanie said. “Would you like a chair?”

“No, thank you” she said, joining them on the blanket. “Enjoying the show?”

“Yeah, it's as good as any I've every seen. Where are they launching the rockets from, though” Karen asked. “I didn't see them setting up anything in the park.”

“What makes you think I'm using rockets?”

“You're using - oh! I get it.”

“Yes, there's still all sorts of magic left in this old girl. I just don't use much of it - except for the park, of course. This is just a harmless change of pace for me.”

They sat quietly for a bit, enjoying the Boss's handiwork. Then she looked at them and said, “You know, of course, that your sentences are over tonight. You'll be Mel and Ken when you wake up tomorrow morning.”

“We know,” Melanie said. “We're looking forward to it.”

“No regrets?”

“I'd be lying if I said 'No',” Karen said. “It's been, well, it's been an interesting month.”

“I'm going to miss my friends,” Melanie added. "Not just here at the park, though I will miss everybody here a lot. As Melanie, I'm part of a 'crowd'. Stacy, Tina, Dana, they're all my friends.”

“And Ed,” the Boss added.

“And Ed, of course,” She blushed. “Oh, I've enjoyed him a lot.” She giggled. “Not like that! It's just been so great having somebody who cared about me and who I cared about so much. Mel, well, Mel is the new kid. He really hasn't got any friends.”

“He has me,” Karen said. “We've gotten to be pretty good friends this past month, and that is not going to change.”

“But other things will,” the Boss said. “I think you'll find that the reality you go back to is quite a bit better than you think. In that reality, Ken introduced Mel to his friends, Tom, Jeff, Harry, and the rest, and you all have become very good friends.”

“And Ed. What about Ed?”

“And Pete,” Karen added.

“Oh, you're friends with them as well. You've even gone on group dates with them and their girl friends, Felicia Ormand and Susie Shay.”

“Felicia,” they both said at once.

“The same. She has a life, too, you know.”

“Wait a minute,” Karen said. “You said we've gone on group dates with them. Who are we dating?”

“I think I'll let that be a surprise. Speaking of which, watch this triple
sparkler coming up next.”

* * * * *

Mel woke up the next morning to the sound of the sports call-in show on his radio. 'Am I...' A hand reached down into his pajamas. It was back! They were back! He looked down. His chest was flat - and a little hairier than he remembered. He let out a “Whoop”, a loud, masculine “Whoop”, and jumped out of bed to dress for school.

* * * * *

Ken was waiting when Mel came out of the building. They hugged and clapped each other on the back.

“You see Rita - Rudy - this morning?” Mel asked.

“No, and I'm not sure I want to. I got awful sick of her - his - her attitude the past month. He pushed me around all my life, telling me what to do. Well, if I learned anything this past month, I learned that I'm at least as smart as he is; maybe smarter. And when he comes out, I'm going to tell him so.”

“Are you guys talking about me?” Mel and Ken turned at the voice, the feminine voice. Rita stood in the doorway to the apartment building. She was wearing a blouse whose ends were tied just above her navel, cut-off jeans that barely went below her crotch, one-inch heels, and a scowl sharp enough to etch glass.

“What - what happened,” Mel said. “Why didn't you change back?”

“You tell me, and we'll both know. I have to go to school right now, but after that - well, there won't be a piece of that damn park standing if that old bitch doesn't change me back.”

“I wouldn't be too sure that you can pull that threat off, Rita,” Ken said. “Maybe Mel and I better go with you.”

“Come - don't come. I don't care. This is between me and her, and she's gonna regret whatever nasty idea she had about not ending this damn change.”

* * * * *

Mel and Ken tried to reason with Rita during the day. They suggested that she wait a day to cool down and both offered to go out and speak to the Boss instead of her. Rita was almost convinced until Mel slipped up and actually referred to the old woman as “the Boss”.

“The Boss!” Rita yelled. “The Boss, your Boss, your buddy, you damn suck-up. And I was gonna let you go out and apologize to her for me. For-get it.”

“Okay, okay. Can Ken and I at least go along with you?”

“It's your nickel; just don't get in my way.”

* * * * *

Ken and Mel watched for Rita after school to make sure they caught the same bus that she did. She didn't stop them, but she glared at them and practically bared her teeth and growled when they tried to sit near her.

The boys did manage to get off the bus with her. As they walked to the gate, Ken whispered, “Just remember, Rita, this isn't some kid you can punch out. This is a lady with a lot of power - real power. You've got every right to be mad. Just try to be smart enough to be a little polite.”

“You be polite. You two got your lives back. I'm - I'm still...this.” She ran her arm down the length of her body. “Oh, hell, I suppose it won't hurt to be a little polite. But if she - or either of you - so much as smiles or start laughing, all bets are off.”

Anya was at the gate. “Mel, Ken. I'm glad to see you again.”

“Are you glad to see me, lady?” Rita said.

“Rita?” Anya's jaw dropped. “Just a minute. Let me get my grandmother.”

“Get her here fast. I've got some damned important questions to ask her.”

“Is this fast enough?” The old woman came around the corner. She looked at Rita for a moment. “Yes, Anya, you were right to call me. I think we'd better continue this in the office.”

“We're not going to have to, um, change, are we?” Mel asked.

“No, no. That's part of the reason that the office is so near the gate. It's sometimes necessary for me to meet with males without having them shower. This way, they don't get an opportunity to bother my guests.” She looked at Rita again and frowned. “You boys go into the office. I want to check Rita over, so we'll be in the larger room next door.”

“Okay,” Mel said.

“You behave yourself, Rita,” Ken said.

“I'm sure she will.” She looked at the three of them very sharply. “It wouldn't do to get me angry, would it, Rita?”

Without quite knowing why, all three of the teens shuddered. “N-no, ma'am,” Rita said. She let herself be led to the room, while Ken and Mel hurried to the office.

* * * * *

The old women and Rita can into the office about ten minutes later. Rita was retying her blouse as she entered. Ken and Mel were already seated, and the old woman motioned for Rita to sit as well.

“I don't know what you did in there, lady,” Rita said, “but my whole body's still tingling from it.”

“That will pass in a moment,” the old woman said. “Are you ready for the answer? Can you take the truth, whatever it is”

“Damn straight I can. Okay, what's the verdict? How come I'm still a girl, and, more important, how soon do you change me back?”

“I'm afraid that I can't change you back.”

“What! Is this your idea of a joke? If it is, it's a bad one.”

“It's not a joke. It's, well, congratulations, my dear. There's only one way to say this: you're going to be a mother.”

“Lady, you have got to be kidding.”

“I would never joke about something like that. According to the, the exam I just gave you, you became pregnant about two weeks ago. You'll have a lovely, healthy little baby right around Valentine's Day. Would you like to know if it's a boy or a girl?”

“It can't be. I can't be. I don't care what I look like. I'm a guy, dammit.” Rita slammed her fist on the desk. “I-can-not-be-pregnant.” She said it slowly through clenched teeth.

“Don't get upset, dear. It's bad for the baby.”

Rita sank back in her chair. Her head was in her hands as she repeated over and over again, “I can't be pregnant.”

The door suddenly opened. “Did you call me, grandmother?”

“Yes, Anya. Rita just got some very surprising news. Would you take her into the Locker Room and splash some water in her face to help her calm down?”

“Sure.” Anya walked over and gently helped Rita to her feet. She put her arm around the younger girl's waist and led her from the room. Rita was still repeating “I can't be pregnant,” as if she were trying to convince herself, or, at least, her body, that the statement was true.

The old woman smiled at the boys. “She'll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, we have a few things to talk about.” She opened a drawer and took out two envelopes. “I was afraid that I was going to have to mail these to you.” She handed them to the boys.

Mel opened his envelope. There was a check inside. “Fi - This check is for over five hundred dollars! Is this some kind of a mistake, Boss?”

“There's no mistake. You worked for me for a month with only a few days off for bad weather. I pay my employees. Ken, your check is for a bit less because you started two days after Mel did. Just because you were Melanie and Karen at the time doesn't mean that I won't pay you what you rightfully earned. I took out for taxes and such.”

“Thank you, Boss. It's more than generous considering how we got the jobs.”

“Perhaps, but you were good workers. In fact, if you'd like to earn more --”

“No,” Mel and Ken both shouted.

“No disrespect meant, Boss,” Mel said, “but Ken and I, well, we'd like to stay our real selves; guys, that is.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Ken said, “but thanks very much for the offer.”

“I thought you might say that, so I have a second offer. I think you both met Ronnie Harris here at the park, didn't you?”

“I did,” Ken said. “I took a package, some messenger brought, out to her at the Tiki Hut.”

“I didn't, but Belinda pointed her out to me once, and I've heard about her from Jenny.”

“Yes, I thought that you might have. Anyway, Ronnie mentioned to me that she was looking for a couple of boys to act as messengers and assistants at her offices downtown. It would be the same sort of odd jobs work that you did for me. Pays about the same as I do. You'd work after school for the rest of the school year, 4 to 5 or 6 o'clock and half a day on Saturday; then 9 to 5 or 6, weekdays and half a day Saturdays during the Summer. Shall I tell her you're interested?”

Mel and Ken looked at each other and smiled broadly. “Yes, Boss,” Mel said. “I think that you can tell her we're very interested.”

“Excellent. There's a letter of recommendation in each of those pay envelopes. I'll call her. You'll probably be able to start next Monday.”

“This is all great, Boss,” Ken said, “and we really appreciate it. But what about Ru - Rita? Is she really pregnant? Is she going to be okay?”

There was a knock on the door. “Excuse me, but I'm back.” Rita was standing in the office doorway. Mel and Ken stood up at the sound of her voice, which seemed to have lost much of the brashness from before.

'The water,' they both thought. 'It must have changed her.'

It had, and the changes were amazing. Rita's long blonde hair was pulled back and tied into a ponytail that stretched halfway down her back. Her make-up was redone and much more subdued, especially the pale blue eye shadow that replaced the electric blue color she had worn before. Her shorts and blouse were now a flowing blue dress that came to just below her knees.

“You look lovely, my dear,” the old woman said. “That outfit is so much more becoming to a young girl than what you had on before.”

“I guess,” Rita said. There was no sign of bravado in her voice now. “Is this what I'm going to be for the rest of my life?”

“Yes, with your pregnancy, I'm afraid that there's no way you can ever go back to being Rudy.”

“I -- I guess I deserved it. Rudy wasn't a very nice person.” She suddenly looked up at the old woman. “But that was my -- his own choice. When I became Rita, I acted the way I did because you made me act that way. It's your fault that I'm pregnant.”

“Don't put all the blame on me, girl. When I changed you into a girl, I made you very much Rudy's female counterpart. You had the same reckless attitudes and the same high sex drive that he did. You also knew how girls get pregnant and what precautions to take. I made certain that there were birth control pills in your room at home. All you had to do was take them.”

“You -- you're right. I saw the pills, and I decided not to take them.” The fight seemed to vanish from Rita. She began to sob. “I figured that I couldn't get pregnant because I was really a guy. I thought I could have a lot of fun as a girl and not worry about any of the consequences.”

“Now you get to live with your mistakes; with being a girl, at least. You can always make arrangements to give the baby up for adoption. There are a lot of families looking for a little one to love.”

“I -- I don't know. I think I want to think about that for a while. I've done enough stupid things because I didn't think them through.”

“Congratulations, Rita.”

“What do you mean?”

“Learning that some things need to be thought through is a lesson some people never learn. You have.”

“Thanks, but I've still got to figure out how I'm going to pay the bills for having a baby. My folks don't have much money.”

“How would they feel about your taking a part-time job? I've just lost two of my employees, and I need replacements.” She smiled. “I have very good health benefits, including full maternity coverage.”

“You -- you'd do that for me? After what I did, the way I acted.”

“You didn't do anything, at least not anything serious -- except act rather foolishly about sex. Rudy did a number of things, not all of them to me, but I understand that he's not around any more.”

“I -- I don't know what to say.”

“'Yes, I'll take the job' would be a good start,” Ken said.

“Yes, I'll take the job.” Rita smiled unevenly. She seemed a little shaky on her feet.

“Are you okay, Rita?” Mel asked.

“I guess. It's just -- oh!” She started to collapse. Ken and Mel rushed over and helped her to a chair.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Ken said.

“I think so. Maybe it's the baby, or maybe just everything that's happened.”

“I think you need somebody to look after you; to help you adjust to your new life and with the baby and everything.”

Rita looked surprised; then she slowly looked up at Ken and smiled shyly. “Are you -- are you applying for the job?”

Ken took her hand in his. “Yeah, I guess I am.” He smiled. “If you'll have me, I mean.”

“But why? I -- Rudy -- always bossed you around. It's my fault you guys were girls for a month.”

“Yeah, but I think I learned something from all that. I never really took the time to think for myself. I let you -- Rudy -- think for me. Well, I'm thinking for myself now. I think that you need somebody, and, umm, I think I'd like it to be me.”

“I think I'd like that, too.” She lifted his hand in her own and gently rubbed her cheek against it.

“I think that Mel and I will give you a little time alone to talk about things,” the old woman said. “Come along, Mel. Let's go over to one of the tables just outside the park. I'll send Anya in for cokes, and we can talk some more about that new job with Ronnie Harris.”

“Okay. You know, I'm glad that Ken and Rita are both getting jobs,” Mel said. He smiled and looked back as they left the office, the old woman shutting the door behind them. “It was a nice thing for you to do.”

“Thank you, Mel. I was happy to help them out. When they leave here, they'll find that everyone thinks that they've been dating on and off for about a year.”

“But they'll still have those jobs, you mentioned?”

“Of course. They'll need them. After all, even if they do decide to wait until they finish high school next year, and I'm rather certain that they will, they'll find that setting up a new home costs money, especially for a couple of newlyweds with a baby.”

The End

When a friend of the nerds is date-raped, the nerds decide to help see that justice is done.

This tale is part of the continuing tale of the Nerds and their adventures with Bikini Beach. Earlier installments define the characters, which are very loosely based on Revenge of the Nerds. This is a necessary prequel for the the next in the series, Vicky's Tale.
Warning - this tale contains sexual assault and date rape. You have been warned.

**********************************************************

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Vicky wiped her brow and glanced at the clock once more. It wasn't that hot outside, but inside the ticket booth, the sun gave no quarter. It beat mercilessly on the glass, turning the small booth into an oven. For security reasons, the door was shut, cutting the ventilation down to a barely perceptible breeze that managed to sneak through the cash and speaker openings in the window.

It was almost closing time, Vicky reminded herself. Sure, she could have turned on the air conditioner, but when it was only eighty degrees outside, Vicky thought it would be hard to justify to the boss. Ten more minutes. Then she could get back to the dorm and see what the party scene for the night was. Vicky figured she could cope with the hotbox for another ten minutes.

The sudden opening of the door caused the tiny breeze to stir into a whirlwind by comparison; cool air poured through the slots, washing over Vicky and evoking a loud sigh of relief as she basked in the cool air. Only after a few seconds of bliss did Vicky turn toward the door. She wasn't alarmed; only a few employees had the access code for the door's keypad, so it was very unlikely that it could be any danger to her.

"You know," the old woman said as she stepped into the booth, "you could turn on the air conditioning." She smiled at Vicky. "It's not like I've never spent time in booths; I know how hot it can get." She gently pulled Vicky out of her chair. "Now, it's close enough to quitting time, and it's a slow evening. So why don't you run along?"

Vicky smiled. "Thanks, boss." She bent over and pulled her purse out of an alcove. "I've still got a few minutes to wait for my ride."

The old woman smiled. "Rob will be here in a few seconds." She watched Vicky's surprise with amusement; there were advantages of magic use. "Oh, Melanie isn't coming. She got a date, and when she asked Rob ...." She got a wistful look. "Rob is such a nice boy." She sounded like a Jewish grandmother, giving Vicky a hint.

Almost on schedule, Rob's car turned the final corner and rolled slowly to the booth. Vicky stared for a moment at the car, and then she shook her head, smiling. "No matter how many times you do that, it's still kind of spooky." She stepped out of the booth but glanced back. "Yeah, Rob's nice. But boys just aren't ... interesting. Not to me." Her brow wrinkled with worry. "Are you sure ...?"

The old woman smiled. "Go. Have fun. Dance." She shooed the girl out of the booth. "Before I change my mind ...." Vicky grinned as she stepped around the booth and climbed into Rob's car. She smiled and waved as Rob eased the car into gear. A sudden frown appeared on the old woman's face. "Be careful!" she called out toward Vicky. And even as she spoke the words, she knew that Vicky couldn't hear her. She dropped her head, sighing heavily.

**********

Vicky smiled demurely at her dance partner as the booming music faded away. Around her, the motion of the pairs of people slowed, eventually halting, and some began to drift from the dance floor. She read the questioning look in her partner's face — was it Jeff or Jack? — and she shook her head, indicating that she really didn't want another dance. "Thanks," she said rather loudly; even though the music was at a lull, the Coconut Club was still a noisy place, and she had to talk loudly to be heard.

The guy nodded deferentially and walked away, leaving Vicky to go back to her table. Norma and Marta, co-workers and friends, had decided to come to the club with her, and they occupied a table waiting for her.

Vicky slid into her seat. "Well, aren't you going to dance some more with him?" Norma asked with a sly smile.

Vicky shrugged. "Later, maybe."

Norma grinned. "Well, he's got a friend," she said, suddenly increasing her volume as the music restarted. "I think I'll go see if his friend wants to dance." She got up from the table and sauntered across the floor.

Vicky watched her work; she brazenly walked up to the table with the two guys, and leaning over the table, exposing the maximum cleavage her dress would allow, began to talk to the guy. Within moments, she was holding his arm as they walked to the dance floor.

Marta shook her head. "I don't believe her," she said simply. "She's acting so...."

Vicky smiled and nodded. "Like she's getting used to it."

Marta shuddered visibly. "Maybe she is. I know _I'm_ not." Marta, like Norma, had until recently been guys. A very costly prank at Bikini Beach had cost them their.manhood. They owed the old woman thousands for damage they'd inadvertently caused to the park, and were working for her to pay it back. Until it was paid in full, they were stuck — as girls. Marta seemed genuinely shocked at how well Norma was adapting to being a girl. "It was nice of Rob to drop you off."

Vicky shrugged. "Yeah, I guess." She turned to watch the couples dancing, her head bobbing slightly to the beat of the music.

Marta grinned. "You know, I think he was hoping you'd invite him dancing or something."

Vicky's jaw dropped, and her head snapped around to stare at Marta. "What?" she demanded, her tone seemingly angry. Still, a hint of surprise, and possibly even delight, came through her mock distress. "He's not ... my type!" She turned back to the dance floor, as much to hide her mixed emotions from her friend.

Marta tilted back her head and laughed. "Methinks thou doth protest too much," she quoted.

Vicky turned again and shook her head. "Oh, I like him. He's nice." She smiled faintly. "But I'm not interested in him. Not romantically, anyway."

Marta laughed again. "Well, I think he's crazy about _you_! In fact, you make an impression on guys everywhere you go. Like the guy you were dancing with. Don't look now, but he's coming over."

Vicky's head started to turn, despite Marta's admonition. Before she could, though, Jeff Miller arrived and plopped on Norma's vacant chair. "Since our friends are out dancing, maybe we could share a table while we wait for them?"

Marta wrinkled her nose and frowned, an expression unseen to Jeff. "I've got a test to study for," she announced with all the distaste she could muster. She stood and grabbed her purse. "See you later, okay?" She turned and stomped out of the club, leaving Vicky stranded with Jeff.

Vicky wasn't enjoying Jeff's small-talk; the only thought in her mind was for Norma to get off the floor so they could leave. Jeff was a pompous, arrogant Alpha, a stereotypical example of that self-absorbed group of guys that plagued the university. He was smooth, sweet-talking Vicky, flattering her, and trying to convince her to go home with him. Her three gentle but firm rebuffs hadn't stopped his advances; if anything, they'd made him even more determined.

Vicky sighed with relief when Norma returned from the floor. Before Norma could even sit down, Vicky grabbed her elbow. "Ladies room," she whispered in Norma's ear.

Norma turned to her guy and smiled. "We'll be back," she said sweetly. It was obvious that she was enjoying the evening.

Nothing Vicky could say would convince Norma to leave. Not while there was dancing, anyway. And since Norma had driven, Vicky was stuck. Vicky started to wish she were with some of her room-mates friends, the Nu Rho Delta fraternity, or nerds. Like Rob. She didn't feel nervous around Rob, not like she felt around these two guys. But she couldn't convince Norma. After a long discussion, they returned to their table, where the guys were waiting with smiles.

Vicky sat down, while Norma took her guy's hand and led him back to the dance floor. As she watched, amazed at Norma's rather forward behavior, Vicky took a sip of her cola. She glanced at Jeff, and saw a curious smile on his face as he quickly looked out to the dance floor. Vicky took another sip as she began to wonder about Norma and Jeff and the other guy.

**********

Rays of sunlight stabbed Vicky's eyes, causing her to flinch, screwing her eyes more tightly closed and turn her head. For a few long seconds, she fought waking up, but eventually, she pulled herself to a sitting position, her eyes still closed. Then, ever so slowly, she opened her eyes, giving herself time to adjust to the light streaming through the blinds.

For several seconds, Vicky sat, rubbing her eyes, as if dumbfounded. Then she slowly opened her eyes again, and flinching from the pain of a severe headache, scanned her surroundings.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," a familiar voice called out.

Vicky turned, and decided that even that motion was too much. "Ooohhh," she moaned. "Oh, my head!" She sighed. "I don't remember coming home," she muttered.

Melanie Lewis, Vicky's roommate, sighed. "Can't help you on that one," she answered. "The Gammas had an all-night rush party. You were here when I got in this morning." She glanced up from her books. "You look like hell, too. Where was the party?"

Vicky started to take inventory. "Norma and I went dancing at the club," she replied softly and slowly. Every motion, every word, no matter how faint, seemed a new adventure in pain. "Funny, we weren't drinking," she observed softly.

Melanie bit her lip. "And you don't remember coming home?" she asked, suddenly sounding more than a bit worried.

Vicky started to look at herself. Her clothing was in disarray; she could tell, just from the feel, that her bra was missing, and her polo shirt was unbuttoned and not tucked in. Her skirt just didn't feel right. Though she couldn't see it, she strongly suspected that her hair was thoroughly mussed, and her makeup smudged badly. A slow, sinking feeling started to form in the pit of Vicky's stomach. "No," she answered. She lurched to her feet, and slowly paced down to the bathroom.

Mel turned back to her studies. It was only when she heard the door close again and Vicky slump against it that Mel turned.

What she saw frightened her. Vicky sank slowly down the door until she was sitting on the floor, her legs splayed open. Her skirt was crooked, and from the way she was sitting, it was obvious that she wasn't wearing any panties. She was trembling, as if fighting an impulse to cry. "I think I've been..." Vicky started to sob, unable to continue. "I think I was ..." she bit her lip, "... raped," she finally said, and the sobs gave way to tears.

**********

"I want those bastards to pay," Vicky hissed. "Pay big time."

Melanie shook her head. It was late, and they should have been studying, but they were sitting on their beds talking. Melanie knew, somehow, that Vicky needed to talk. "I know, Vicky," she soothed. "But it's not going to happen, you know."

Vicky glared at Mel, then her expression faded and she looked down. "I know. They cleaned me up, so there's no evidence. And no doubt the whole pack of rats would give him an alibi." Vicky shook her head sadly. "Maybe I should just put this behind me," she said softly, more to convince herself than Mel, "and get on with my life." She stared at her bedspread for several minutes, but then she looked up suddenly, her eyes alive with the passion of her emotions. "But I can't. Those ... animals ... raped me!"

Mel nodded. "But the Alphas are the Dean's and the Coach's pet fraternity. Even if there was evidence ... even if the Alphas didn't have alibis ... those two aren't going to take you seriously."

A knock at the door gave Melanie a welcome reprieve. It had been a long day. "Hi, Mel," Rob called cheerfully as she opened the door. "Is Vicky in?" It was clear to Melanie that Rob was smitten with Vicky.

"Shhh," Mel hissed, glancing sharply over her shoulder at Vicky. She pushed Rob into the hall and closed the door behind them. "She's had a rough day," Mel said softly. "We think she got raped last night by one of the Alphas."

Rob's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. "I don't understand?" he finally said. "You think?"

Mel dropped her gaze. "They didn't leave any physical evidence. And we think they used some kind of date rape drug on her." She sighed. "And we all know that the administration isn't going to do anything against the Alphas."

Rob exhaled heavily, a perfect metaphor for the frustration he felt whenever anyone mentioned the Alphas. He knew that Melanie was right. "So what can I do?" he finally asked.

Mel sighed. "Right now, she needs friends."

Rob nodded. Then his jaw clenched again, and Mel could tell that his mind was working feverishly. "And the best friend she could have would vindicate her."

**********

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Anya's question was simple and to the point.

Rob clenched his jaw. "Nope. But that's never stopped me before."

Anya shook her head. "You know this could be dangerous."

Rob nodded slowly. "But someone has to stop those bastards."

Melanie shook her head. "Don't waste your breath, Anya. I can't talk him out of it, either."

Anya glanced at Rob, then at Melanie, then back to Rob. Slowly, she handed him a pass. "It's for two days. You'll need the extra day if anything happens. You wouldn’t want to change ... in the middle of ...." She let the sentence hang, unnecessarily. They all knew what Rob was up to.

Rob glanced at the card, and then nodded. "Okay." He squared his shoulders and marched to the gate, to where he would swipe his card, shower, and become...bait.

**********

The girl sat, smiling, enjoying the attention. Guys were coming out of the woodwork to talk to her, to ask her to dance. She smiled coyly, turning them down. And then one guy came over. She positively grinned at him, and then nodded as he suggested they dance. She joined him on the floor, smiling happily as they danced. Still, there was something behind her eyes, something wary, cautious, predatory. Like she was the one doing the hunting, and the guy had fallen into _her_ trap. They danced, sat at her table and talked, and danced some more. It was becoming clear that she was not interested in the same thing he was, namely to get her back to his place. Still, he kept making his moves, trying to pressure the girl into sleeping with him, despite her steady and firm rejections. And as the night wore on, his seeming desperation changed, became a devious confidence, a dangerous cunning of its own.

**********

Mel held Rob's tightly, letting Rob sob from frustration on her shoulder. Rob was ... female. Still, totally, completely female, thanks to the magic of Bikini Beach. Stunningly curvy, with a figure most women would die for, he'd picked his form carefully, designed to maximize his appeal. Every single detail was chosen for maximum appeal, from the wavy shoulder-length auburn hair to his supermodel features, from his tall athletic build to the sexy contralto voice. Everything. He was a perfect lure. And apparently, it had worked. "I don't get it," Rob cursed angrily. "I didn’t' touch anything! Nothing!"

Mel nodded, holding the girl tightly. "Are you sure they gave you something?"

Rob nodded, sitting back from Mel's comforting hug. "I don't remember anything. We were dancing, and then the memories fade off. After that...nothing. Just waking up this morning with a hangover."

Mel sighed. "And you're sure something happened?" She was grasping at straws here. "You could have just fallen asleep. Or...."

Rob shook his head vigorously, ignoring his swirling tresses. "No. They did me. I'm sore. Really sore." He looked away, embarrassed. Even though Melanie had until recently been Paul, a fraternity brother and male friend. "And you saw how I looked. No underwear, clothes messed up. Makeup messed up." He shook his head. "You can't convince me that I wasn't screwed. And against my will." His use of coarse language was a clear indication of the distress he felt.

Mel stared for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. "Okay, so what did they use? Rohypnol? Ketamine? GHB"?"

Rob looked thoughtfully at the wall for a moment, but then he shook his head. "Not likely. That stuff has been pretty hard to get around here since the Feds and the state ran that sting. And I had Pete run a titer against it."

Mel nodded. Pete, a member of the fraternity, was a budding biochemist, a genius in fact. "If Pete says no, then that's it."

Rob nodded slowly. "He's over in the chemistry labs now, trying to see if he can come up with anything."

"Hi, Mel," Vicky called even as she swung the door open. Her voice betrayed a sadness, a melancholy that had pervaded her very being for the past week — ever since the incident. She stepped through the door, but then stopped cold. "Uh, hi," she said, not recognizing the new girl with her roommate.

"Hi, Vicky," Mel stammered. "I didn't expect you back for a while." She glanced over her shoulder at Rob nervously. "This is my cousin, Theresa Shultz."

Vicky stared evenly at Rob. "Hi, Theresa."

Rob felt the awkwardness of the situation; he knew he had to act, and quickly. "Vicky, maybe you can help me. I'm trying to talk Mel into spending the rest of the day, uh, out having some fun. She said you work at some kind of water park. Is it any good?"

Vicky glanced at Mel, and her caution fell away. "Yeah, I think so. But then again," she flashed a smile, "I work there, so I'm paid to say that it's a nice park."

Rob glanced at Mel, and then smiled at Vicky. "Well, I think we should go spend the afternoon there - where we don't have to think about things like classes." He looked pleadingly at Vicky. "What do you think? You want to come with us?"

**********

Vicky's mood had lightened considerably by the time the sun was setting. The trio had spend the day frolicking, seeing if they couldn't ride every single ride by closing time. They raced on Pele's Race, rode the group tubes, slid down the speed slides, and bobbed in the wave pools. They floated around Old Man River, swung on the tire swings at the Swimmin' Hole, and even ate their dinner on the verandas overlooking the river. Rob felt the fatigue clear to his bones by the time the loudspeakers announced closing. They changed, and Mel drove them all back to the dorms.

Vicky was about to go into her room when she turned suddenly and gave Rob a hug. "I needed a day like that," she said. "Thanks, Rob."

Rob stiffened, and his jaw dropped. "How...how did you know?"

Vicky smiled and shrugged. "Somehow, I just knew." She opened the door, but then turned again. "Thanks. That was a sweet thing to do." She let the door close behind her, leaving Mel and Rob in the hall.

"Cousin!" Rob hissed. "What a lame excuse!"

Mel glowered at him. "Well, you certainly weren't acting very much like a girl!" she spat back. Then she got a broad grin. "But she did say you were sweet."

**********

Weariness was written all over Rob's pretty female face — fatigue from the day of fun and play at Bikini Beach, and emotion-sopping tiredness from not having any answers. Bert and Brandon, his roommates, were studiously ignoring him, absorbed as they were in their seemingly perpetual chess game.

"No joy?" Chuck asked from the door, staring in at Rob.

Rob shook his head. It spoke wonders that his being a girl for a couple of days was causing no stir in their fraternity house; most of the guys had experience Bikini Beach in one way or another, and thus Rob's current state was no surprise. "Nothing. They slipped me something, so I’ve got no evidence."

Pete's small, round pink face peeked around Chuck. "Rob? I got it."

Rob's head perked up. "What?" He didn't want to believe what his ears had told him.

The kid grinned. "I got it. It's a variant of Rhopynol, around a different base. Actually, it should be faster acting. But the formulation is different enough that the standard tests didn't catch it."

Rob smiled and vented a sigh of relief. "At least I wasn't imagining that part." Then he noticed Pete’s face. “And...?”

Pete gulped. “This stuff isn’t too pure. It’s base is...well, it looks like it’s home-cooked. In fact,” he glanced at Brandon, and then continued, “it’s pretty dangerous stuff.”

Rob frowned. “Dangerous...how?” His senses were alert; they had given him some of the drug, and this news was not good.

“It looks like they were in a rush; the distillate wasn’t completely washed from the solution. It’s pretty heavily laced with the initial solvents.” He glanced at Brandon again, his forehead wrinkled with worry. “It’s...well, the solvent is a pretty potent...it can cause some severe neurological damage.”

Brandon glanced at his roommate, Rob. “Is he okay?”

Pete nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah. I’ve figured out what the concentration was, based on an estimate of kidney extraction and liver metabolization. Which, by the way, is damned slow. Very, very slow. It’s going to take a couple of weeks for your body to get all the traces out of your system.” He looked confident. “Anyhow, the dose you got wasn’t too large. But a larger dose? Or a repeated dose before your body eliminated it?” He shook his head.

"But how did they get it to you?" Brandon was curious enough to glance up from the board.

Rob shook his head. "I don't know. And that's the frustrating part! I was being careful about that!" He sighed again. "Now I know what they used, I can watch for it. But if I try again, and we haven't figured out how, then it'll be a bust again!" He ignored the leering stares at his very curvy chest, the jokes at his admittedly poor choice of words. "Knock it off, guys!" he protested, slapping at Bert's hand making groping gestures toward his bosom.

"Sorry," Brandon said for the group. "So I guess we're stuck?"

Rob bit his lip. "No, I'm going to see this one through. We're going to nail that bastard." His eyes narrowed. "And here's what we're going to do."

Brandon touched his arm. “Rob, you heard what Pete said. You can’t risk it.”

Rob’s eyes narrowed. “So what do we do? Sit back and wait until someone does get hurt?” He shook his head. “I’m not going to let those bastards kill someone because I wimped out!”

Bert put his hand on Rob’s shoulder. “I think you’re taking this one a bit personally,” he said with a grimace.

Rob spun, his nostrils flaring, his eyes focused like laser beams. “Damned right, I am!” he snarled. “You know what those guys did to me? And to Vicky?” He shook his head. “It ends.”

Brandon stared at Rob for several long seconds, and then he nodded slowly. “Okay, we’re in, too, I guess.” He glanced around, and saw the other guys nodding their agreement.

**********

The old woman was waiting at the ticket booth; it was nearly closing time for the park, and as he parked the car, Rob gave a sigh of relief. "That was close," he said as he stepped to the ticket window.

The old woman smiled. "Actually, I was going to close about ten minutes ago. But I knew you were running late."

Rob smiled and shook his head. "You and Anya," he muttered. "I can't fool either one of you." He looked up. "So you know what I'm going to do?"

The old woman smiled. "Yes, and I must say I admire your tenacity. Anya warned you that this could get dangerous."

Rob nodded his acknowledgement. "But I've got to do it."

The old woman smiled. "I know. Now, you're going to need a different look. They may be dumb, but even the Alphas would probably get suspicious if you had the same appearance." Rob started; he hadn't considered that angle. The old woman smiled again. "And you can go two ways with this. First, you can go after the rape itself, which may be difficult to prove. Also, if you go that way, you may have to change a few times for testimony to the DA, the indictment, the trial, and so on. It can be done, but it could get messy."

Rob looked crestfallen. "I didn't think of that," he admitted.

The old woman grinned. "I didn't think so. So you can go the other way. Go after this on possession of a controlled substance."

Rob smiled as her words sank home. "The standard of proof is lower..."

"...so getting a conviction, or at least a plea bargain, would be a piece of cake. And the dean couldn't ignore this one." Her tone went deadly serious. "How sure are you about the compound Pete found?"

Rob grimaced. "Pretty sure," he lied. "It's a natural substance, and it should preferentially bind with the date rape drug."

"Should is no guarantee," she said cautiously. "You know that this is going to take a three day pass? With the testimony and police reports and report to the dean?" She saw from Rob's face that he hadn't contemplated being changed this long. She also saw that this new data point hadn't changed his mind. "And you know that there is a possibility that, with the extra time, you could become pregnant — if you’re not careful? If that happens, you'll be stuck like as a woman forever?"

Rob closed his eyes for a brief moment, and a rough shudder coursed up his spine. "I’ll have to get some precautions, then. Okay, let's do it," he answered with grim determination. He reached up and took the card from the old woman.

**********

Rob, going by the name Julie to match his feminine body, looked nervous, even through her smile. Like the previous week, she was in a dynamite body — D-cups, narrow waist, nicely flared hips, tall and lithe, with very blonde and very wavy locks trailing off her shoulders down her back. Full pouty lips, enhanced with her red lipstick, soft brown eyes, perfect complexion accentuated by a light tan — Rob had gone all out for sex appeal. And it didn’t stop with the physique of the body; she wore a clingy red dress, with a scoop neck to emphasize her cleavage and a hem that ended inches above her knees. High-heeled pumps gave back a couple of inches that Rob had lost to her five foot five body.

The effect was plain to see. It seemed that every guy in the club wanted to chat, to get her to dance. Still, she waited, deferring politely but firmly, and she watched. And then one guy came up. A momentary terrified look flickered across Rob’s features, but it passed, leaving a sexy, smiling, happy girl. There was something about this guy; as soon as he approached, the other guys left her alone, as if he had declared the girl to be his property, and had the clout to back his claim. “I’m Julie,” Rob introduced herself shyly, evoking a charming smile from the guy. “Jeff,” he replied easily as he slid into the vacant chair across the table from her.

After a couple of dances, Rob excused herself. Inside the ladies' room, she took a small vial from her purse and, after a reflective pause, gulped the contents. She wrinkled her nose at the bitter taste it left, and for a few moments, she thought it might make her retch. But it stayed down, and after letting the taste fade a bit, she strode back to the table, taking care to paste on her happy carefree smile.

As the evening wore on, Rob danced with Jeff, sat at the table and shared drinks, and chatted. The talking was the worst part for Rob; he intended to give the full impression of an airhead, a friendly sort of girl out for a good time. Rob saw cunning in Jeff’s eyes, and she knew that if Jeff suspected that Rob was playing a game, that he could turn into a dangerous opponent. And so he struggled, fighting his instincts and normal behaviors to remain the ‘ditzy blond’ that Jeff wanted to conquer. And so Rob force herself to talk about the other girls, their clothes, how some looked and acted stuck up, and a myriad of other topics that she thought a girl would talk about. And while it appeared that Jeff was hanging on her every word, Rob realized to her satisfaction that Jeff was merely play-acting, that he really didn’t care what Rob said as long as he could get his chance.

Around midnight, Rob noticed something else. Jeff was starting to act nervous, like something was wrong. Rob had been extremely careful up to that point — never leaving a drink alone, getting a new drink after every trip to the bathroom or dance. Now she realized what she’d inadvertently done. Jeff was nervous because he was missing his chance. She hadn’t given him any opportunity to slip her the drug. And Jeff’s nervousness — was he getting ready to give up on her? Or something worse? Rob gulped and realized she had to give Jeff his chance.

She excused herself with a smile and a slight giggle, and then went to the bathroom, deliberately leaving a half glass of soda on the table. Even though she didn’t really have to pee, she waited in the girl’s room, taking time to freshen her makeup and comb her hair. Finally, she emerged, and after suppressing a shudder of fear, pasted on her dizzy smile and sauntered back to the table.

Jeff’s demeanor was changed. The nervousness was gone. In its place was the look of a hunter, a predator. He smiled, trying to look pleasant, as Rob tilted her glass to take a drink. But Rob saw through his smile — he was now dangerous to her.

Within a few minutes, Rob let herself be helped from the chair and guided out of the club. She stumbled a bit, leaning heavily on Jeff’s arm as he led her to the parking lot.

As if on cue, a van screeched to a halt beside them. The door slid open, and four rough hands grasped her and pulled her inside. Jeff quickly clambered in, and the door slid to a close even as the van lurched and accelerated quickly from the club.

**********

Across the parking lot, four guys sat quietly in a dark car, one of them wearing a headphone and listening with visible concentration.

“Anything?”

Chuck shook his head, scowling. “No. No signal from Rob. But something is interfering with the signal; it’s kind of jumbled.”

In the front seat, Bert scanned a monitor. “Signal strength is okay. Same direction, same distance.” He looked up. “Rob’s still inside the club.”

Brandon felt like smacking the steering wheel. “Damn. What’s taking him so long?”

**********

Rob let herself be led inside the cheap motel room. She let her lead loll around a bit, taking in her surroundings surreptitiously, trying to hide just how alert she was from the guys. The motel was at best a one-star affair, one story and with peeling paint, a gaudy neon sign with half the tubes burned out, the other half flashing alternately as they tried to call attention to this tiny establishment, tucked as it was off a side road of the not-very-busy business loop freeway. Progress had long since bypassed this part of town, and the fact that this motel hung on was a tribute to its ability to adapt by renting rooms hourly, satisfying the demand of the merchants of flesh operating in the area.

Even as one guy closed the door and flipped on the light, Rob felt rough hands groping her chest, feeling up her curvy boobs. Again, her head flopped, and she counted eight guys. Already, they guys were roughly stripping her, ungently removing her dress. Hands clasped at her thighs, tugging at her panties, rubbing her coarsely in her crotch. She allowed her mind to grasp all these facts, to mentally observe as the guys unzipped her dress and tore her bra off, freeing her boobs. In a strange detached manner, Rob noted as the guys pressed her to the bed and then fought briefly among themselves. As she expected, Jeff, the hunter, took her first, mounting her roughly, pumping almost violently as he took care of his own passion first and last, caring not one whit for her body. To these guys, Rob realized, she was just a cunt, an object to be sexually taken.

As the third guy mounted her, Rob felt fingers tugging in her hair, twisting her head. She allowed herself to be manipulated without fighting, but she couldn’t stop the whimper of shock as a large erect dick was shoved in her face, toward her mouth.

“What the hell?” The guy’s voice was concerned, expressing a sudden concern which shoved aside his carnal needs.

Rob let her head roll, and saw from the corner of her eye. His dick still pointing toward her, the guy scowled down at her, concern etched on his face. And then, without warning, he slapped her hard.

Rob screamed, reaching instinctively for the stinging cheek, and even as she cried, she knew what she’d done. The guys knew. They couldn’t help but know. She wasn’t drugged.

The guys leaped back as if stung. Except for the one currently screwing her, all the guys huddled, staring warily at her. Rob couldn’t make out everything, but some words came across. “Didn’t it take?” “Did she get it?” The voices lowered. “What do we do now?” Mumbling took over, and Rob knew the guys were discussing her fate, her future. She was no longer an innocent victim; she was a real threat.

Rob felt a real shudder of terror; in this body, she was small and weak, unable to fight if these guys decided to get rough. And based on what they’d done so far, she realized with a chill that these guys might be capable of anything — including disposing of an inconvenient witness.

Hundreds of images, none of them particularly pleasant, raced through Rob’s mind, adding to her terror. She was nothing to these guys, and if she didn’t think of something fast ....

Rob turned, and reaching up with her arms, she encircled the neck of the guy currently on her. She pulled him down even as she lifted her head, her lips parted in a sexy pant. Roughly, she kissed him, her instinct for survival forcing aside any thoughts she might have had about the propriety of what she was doing. As she kissed him passionately, she began to pump her hips, accepting his thrusts and matching them.

After he came, and disengaged himself, she propped herself on the bed, licking her lips in a sexy gesture, wiggling with mock passion. “Like, don’t tell me you guys are all done?” she asked in as sexy a voice as she could muster. She ran her fingers through her hair, pushing aside the tangle from her face. And her fright increased to a bone-chilling terror. Her fingers brushing across her ear delivered potentially fatal news. Her earring was missing. The bug, the tiny electronic listening device, her lifeline to the guys, was missing. It was gone, absent from her ear lobe.

She glanced back, and saw the panic of the guys starting to abate. She spread her legs, knowing with sickening certainty that her ability to act like a sex-starved bimbo was her only hope of living. “I need it, like, really bad,” she pouted. “I really, really want it ...”

One guy took her up on her invitation. In seconds, she was being screwed yet again, pumped, used as a sex toy by the eight horny Alphas. And as she accepted him, another knelt by her face. Rob’s mind cried in shame as she let the erect dick slip between her lips.

**********

“I don’t like it,” Brandon finally said, punctuating the silence of the car. The parking lot was nearly empty, and still the signal showed that Rob was inside the club. “I’m going in.” Before any of the guys could stop him, he lurched from the car and stalked toward the doors.

It was late enough that Brandon didn’t have to pay a cover charge. He stormed into the main club, where the bright lights and loud music momentarily stunned him. As he stood, his eyes searching the remaining guests, he felt someone brush his side. He turned, and was relieved to see Bert with his small electronics box.

Both guys turned back to the crowd, searching and scanning the faces. “I don’t see her,” Bert yelled over the music.

“Me neither,” Brandon shouted. “Maybe in the bathroom?”

Bert glanced at his box, and examined the indicators. “Nope. She’s over there.” He pointed to a row of booths, mostly empty by now.

The two nerds walked directly across the dance floor, dodging around the few remaining dancers. Bert stopped at an empty booth. He waved around his box, searching for the strongest signal, trying to locate the strongest source. Then he bent forward, and after a quick prod in the cushions, he pulled an earring and held it up for Brandon to see.

“Shit!” Brandon cursed aloud, echoing the sinking feeling he knew Bert had.

**********

Rob let herself be led out of the motel. She was stiff and sore; these guys had done her over and over, vaginally, orally, and anally. As she climbed into the van, she forced a smile to her face. “Like, thanks for the great time,” she said, trying hard to sound like she was both satisfied and ditzy. A couple of the guys grinned at her, while Jeff and another of the Alphas glanced at her, then at each other, their faces etched with worry.

She knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet. These guys could still change their minds. “Are we, like, going back to the house to party some more?” she asked, trying to sound eager for more sex.

Jeff’s eyes narrowed, ignoring her distraction of rubbing his crotch. “How do you know ... uh, what makes you think we’re Alphas?”

Rob giggled. “Silly! Like every girl knows the Alphas.” She rubbed Jeff’s crotch more insistently. “And most girls want to, like, get to know you better,” she added, cooing. “Like me.” Her voice was dripping with what Rob hoped was sex appeal. “Except for those stuck up bitches in the Eta sorority.” Trembling, she knew she had to complete her role. Without the bug, there was no way the guys could find her, and thus no way to make any kind of drug charge stick. It was a whole new game, and it all rested on her now.

“Bitches,” one of the guys snarled, echoing Rob’s view of the Etas.

“Like, I’d like to see those cunts get what I just got,” she cooed. “I’d love to see them try to, like call me a whore after getting screwed all night!”

The guys perked up visibly, and Rob knew she’d struck a nerve. Now the question was — did these guys want to prove something by conquering the Etas, or were they going to defend the sorority. “There’s an idea,” Jeff sneered. He reached down and unzipped his pants, freeing his member, and then he placed Rob’s hand directly on it.

Rob giggled as she began to stroke Jeff’s manhood. “I wish I could, like get my hands on some Roofies or Special K,” she said absently as she rubbed Jeff. “It’d be, like so easy to slip it to them.” She giggled again, and then started to lean toward Jeff’s crotch. Do or die time. Either they’d take the bait, or they wouldn’t.

Jeff caught her head as she was about to start sucking him. “Could you really get something to them?” He sounded eager.

Rob felt his heart steady. He was taking the bait. She glanced up and giggled. “Sure. I mean, like my cousin is a member, it would be so easy to get in. I mean, like she asks me to help them set up for their parties and stuff all the time.” Rob feigned a scowl. “I think she likes bossing me around, you know. Like she’s so much better than I am!” Rob giggled again. “And it wouldn’t even matter if I was there. Like, that stuff doesn’t work on me, you know.”

Jeff grinned a vicious, evil grin, and then he pushed Rob’s head back into his lap. As she took Jeff’s member in her mouth, he laughed. “Guys, I’m getting a plan.”

**********

Rob glanced over her shoulder, trying to look casual, and slipped into the dressing room. Even before she could hang the dress on the hook, she collapsed on the bench, every muscle in her body trembling with fear. Sobs wracked her body, shaking her to her very soul, as she convulsed, as if her body were desperately trying to shake off the terror of the past twelve hours. Her mind whirled in a jumble of images, some real, some imagined, as she contemplated what she’d done, and how very real was the danger she’d put herself in.

After nearly half an hour, an attendant knocked on the door. Rob wiped her eyes, and with a final shudder, she pulled herself to her feet. She assured the sales clerk that she was fine, and then she remembered what she was there for. She carefully put on the dress and walked slowly, carefully out to the mirrors. She whirled and turned, eyeing the fit of the dress carefully. Or so it seemed. The mirror gave her a perfect means to check. She knew, she’d seen, that after the Alphas had dropped her off at the mall, one of them followed her. Perhaps they didn’t trust her completely. Or perhaps it was a coincidence. In either case, Rob wasn’t about to take any chances. She ducked into the first shop she found, and made a show of examining the dresses, searching for outfits, oohing and ahhhing over the fabric or the style or the color. Finally, she collected a dress and ducked into the changing room.

And now, the mirror showed that the coast was clear. The guy was gone. Whether coincidence or not, she felt a final shiver of relief. Then she borrowed the store’s phone — persuading the clerk by buying a dress. She called the house, and after a very brief and cryptic conversation, she hung up, smiled at the clerk, and rummaged in her purse.

Her purse! What a mess they’d made. Rob shuddered yet again. These guys — they weren’t stupid. Not at all. And that made them doubly dangerous. While she’d been occupied pleasuring some of them, Jeff had thoroughly and methodically searched her purse, tearing through it. Rob knew what Jeff was doing — he was searching for bugs or wires. Her sole remaining earring and her tube of lipstick had been smashed. Jeff had clumsily claimed it was an accident, that they’d spilled her purse and in a scramble to gather her stuff, they’d stepped on a couple of things. His apology was as transparent as his soul was black.

**********

Rob strode confidently into the food court, and after buying a salad, she scanned the crowd. The guys stood out, easily recognizable, and she walked over, easing herself into a chair as she set down her salad.

The look on Brandon’s face said it all. “What the hell happened?”

Rob felt his knees turn to jelly. “I ... lost my earring,” he began. “And then they took me to a motel.”

Brandon’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay?”

Rob felt herself trembling again. “It’s a long story.” She looked down and stabbed some of her salad. “They found out the drug didn’t work.”

Bert blanched, as did Brandon. They stared at Rob, speechless. “So all that was for ... nothing?”

Rob ate a few bites in silence, chewing to hide her anger and fear. Finally she looked up, a grim determination on her features. “No. It can’t be. It’s got to stop.” She glanced around the table, to Bert, to Brandon, and to Chuck.

Chuck finally nodded his understanding. Rob had been humiliated by those guys. Twice. It was personal to him now. “Okay, so how do we stop them?”

Rob glanced around the food court, and then leaned forward. “I think I got them convinced to try the Eta house. Here’s the plan.”

**********

Perhaps the Alphas were nervous about using the Coconut Club twice in a row, or perhaps they didn’t fully trust Rob. In either case, when Rob showed up at the Coconut Club, she was given a message to go to the Beach House.

Before she got to the door, Jeff intercepted Rob. Again, the van materialized, and she was hustled inside.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully, sounding all too pleased to see them. She glanced around, and saw the expressions. The guys were wary of her, and it showed. “Damn, like I thought we were going to have some fun, not go to a morgue!” she complained.

“We got to blindfold her, man,” the driver reminded Jeff.

Jeff glanced at him, and then he nodded. Rob felt a stab of fear as the guys slipped a blindfold over her eyes, shutting out the light — and her awareness of what was happening. She fought the impending sense of terror, and tried to sound innocent and dingy. “Okay, but like I can think of a lot more fun ways to distract me.” She leaned toward where she thought Jeff was, trying to rub her body against his. Inwardly, she felt wave after wave of panic crash against her. Had they found out? Did they suspect something? Were these their normal precautions, or were they going to dispose of her?

“Sorry,” Jeff said, sounding disappointed. “Our contact has some rather strict rules.”

The van ride was long, and judging from the way the van lurched around corners, it was tortuously convoluted. If the guys were trying to spot a tail or shake off pursuers, they couldn’t have done a better job. Again, Rob was reminded of how dangerous these guys were — and what she’d gotten herself into.

**********

The knocking was clearly a code, and a primitive one at that, Rob realized. But it was answered, and then she was shoved through the door. As the door slammed shut, she felt someone fumbling at her head, and then dim light stabbed her eyes. She rubbed them, and then looked around cautiously.

The house was fit only for condemnation and destruction. Cracked plaster hung from the walls, leaving ugly gaping holes. The paint was long-since faded, and the floor was in as bad, or worse, shape than the walls and ceiling. A single dim bulb glared nakedly from a tiny fixture in the ceiling, shedding barely enough light to reach the corners of the room.

And the smell! A horrible, sickly chemical smell permeated the air, like a chemistry lab without ventilation. Rob felt her stomach convulse, and she fought the instinct to retch at the awful smell.

Through a small door lay the kitchen, only partially visible to Rob. A table, low and as decrepit as the rest of the house, squatted in view, its top covered with tubing and flasks and jars. A burner, connected by a tube to a gas supply elsewhere, flamed away, boiling a foul black mixture in one flask, cooking who-knows-what kind of drug. Rob suppressed her shiver. This was far deeper than she’d intended to get. This wasn’t distribution or possession. She was in the supply part of the drug chain. And she’d heard all the tales about how ruthless the drug business was.

“So this is the bimbo you told me about, huh?” Rob snapped her attention back to the room, and spied a large thuggish man staring at her. He wore a tank top, proudly displaying his powerful arms and the garish tattoos. His head was bald, shaven clean, which made a powerful contrast to his reddish-brown mustache and goatee. His sneer, an intimidating, angry expression, revealed one gold crown, and a jagged scar on his left cheek attested to a brutality that exceeded what Rob had imagined.

Jeff stepped forward, almost meekly. Even he was intimidated by the brute before them. “She’s going to help us with a big party...”

“I don’t give a shit!” the brute snarled. “She clean?”

Jeff glanced at Rob, then nodded. “We checked her out. She’s clean.”

“How much?” The thug’s question was directed at Jeff, even though he was sneering lustfully at Rob.

“Uh, thirty-five or forty drinks?” He, too, was glancing at Rob, but he was trying to get information about how much to buy.

Rob trembled inwardly; outwardly, she screwed up her face as if trying hard to think. “Uh, yeah. About that.”

Jeff smiled at her, and then turned to the dealer. “Let’s go for fifty. Just to be sure.”

The dealer nodded slowly, then he bit his lower lip. Finally, after a few moments of thought, he grinned wickedly. “Four hundred bucks.”

Jeff’s jaw dropped. “Four hundred?”

The guy shrugged. “Take it or leave it.” Then he glanced at Rob and grinned again. “Or two hundred and the girl.”

Terror gripped Rob. Now she was being treated like disposable property. That’s all she was to the thug - an object to be traded in a drug deal. She reflexively backed up a half step, and bumped into one of the Alphas. Sheer terror was etched on her features.

Jeff glanced at her, and then he looked back at the dealer. “She’s not for sale. She’s mine.” He glanced at Rob, and the lust in his eyes was plain to see. “Besides, without her, we can’t do the job.”

The dealer scowled. He glanced at Rob once more, and she could see just how much he desired her. Then he frowned at Jeff. “Okay, three fifty.”

Rob watched in shocked disbelief as Jeff pulled out several large bills and handed them to the thug. In response, he stalked into the kitchen, his lab, and returned with a vial of crudely pressed tablets, his drug supply.

“Appreciate it,” Jeff said, trying to sound nonchalant, as the group turned to the door.

“Thanks for the business.” But then the thug snarled. “Next time, come alone.”

Rob could see the tremble in Jeff; despite all his bravado and air of dominance, he was as scared of the dealer as Rob was.

As they got into the van, Rob started to vent a sigh of relief. Only a little more to go. Then it would all be over.

**********

Rob sat on the hard bench, staring morosely at the cell bars. Beside her, a hooker sat, patiently examining her nails and snapping her bubble gum as she waited for her pimp to make her bail. Rob took a deep breath, and tried to sort out all the details. It had happened so fast.

As the van pulled away from the dealer’s house, they were suddenly surrounded by police cars. Even as they were forcibly dragged from the van and spread against the cars, more cars and a SWAT van swooped into the neighborhood. With practiced precision, the cops leaped from their vehicles and crouched behind them, their weapons ready. A few cops vanished, obviously taking sniper positions, while the rest of the SWAT team prepared. Then with a sudden rush, they smashed through the door into the drug dealer’s house.

From within the house, gunshots rang out. Two, three, then a burst of automatic fire. And within seconds, the drug dealer was stretched on the driveway, blood seeping from wounds in his leg as they waited for the ambulance. A cop had been hit, and in the aftermath, he and his buddies poked and pried at the bulletproof vest that had saved his life. Drug-sniffing dogs pored over the house, and crime-scene yellow tape quickly cordoned off the house.

The detectives had been thorough, and professional. Rob’s statement was taken, and then they put her in the cell. Even now, reflecting on the events in slow motion, Rob was amazed at how quickly the entire bust had gone down.

And now she sat, waiting while the detectives checked her story. It was Rob’s plan that had enabled them to break up a major drug ring; the guy was a major supplier of methamphetamines and a host of other drugs. But she was a suspect. Then a new worry came to Rob. Sometime around midnight, the Bikini Beach magic was going to wear off. And then she’d be Rob, a guy in the women’s cell at the jail. And that was going to take some serious explaining.

**********

The clinking of the keys stirred Rob from her deep funk. She turned, and saw the door open and the policewoman gesturing to her. “Come on. A friend is arranging your bail.”

Rob frowned; the guys didn’t know she was down here. Did they? And surely her bail was going to be enormous — given the seriousness of the drug charges. Still, there was little to do. She slowly rose and followed the policewoman.

Inside the captain’s office, the old woman was sitting, chatting pleasantly with the captain. The policewoman gestured at a chair, and then closed the door behind her as she left.

“Are you okay?” the old woman asked Rob, her demeanor changing instantly to reflect her concern for Rob’s well-being.

Rob shivered involuntarily. “I’m scared,” she admitted.

“I imagine you are, dear,” the old woman said warmly.

The captain watched the exchange with a neutral expression. “Okay, now that the greetings are over, would you mind explaining this rather...strange request?”

The old woman smiled. “Look, Al, you got your guys. You got one of the biggest rings in the area. This little girl didn’t do anything wrong — except maybe to not include you in her plans at the start.”

The captain frowned. “But...I can’t just let her go,” he protested.

The old woman smiled again. “Al, you know how I work. She was caught up trying to stop a fraternity using a date rape drug. It went way beyond that. You got your drug dealer. I got the girl back safely. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”

The captain shook his head. “According to one of the guys, she’s an accomplice.”

The old woman sighed sadly. “Look, if it weren’t for her — and her friends — you’d still have a dealer out there. With her help, you’ve got an air-tight case. And not just against some college punks for possession, but against their supplier!” She sighed again. “Look, Al, in a few hours, their supposed accomplice isn’t going to exist.”

The police captain paused visibly, and then he turned to Rob. He stared at her, and she realized he knew. She dropped her head, suddenly ashamed that she was a guy who’d been changed to a girl. He turned back to the old woman. “Okay,” he finally said, gruffly. “You can go.”

The old woman stood, and took Rob’s arm, helping her to her feet. “Thanks, Al,” the old woman said pleasantly. She started toward the door with Rob. From the open door, she glanced over her shoulder. “I owe you one.”

The police captain scowled. “Damned right, you do.”

**********

Rob lay on her bed, her blanket tucked tightly under her chin. Though it was late, and the lights were out, her eyes were wide open. She trembled slightly, nervously, as the implications of what she had done came back with a rush, a flood of terrifying possibilities that Rob had been able to bury under his obsession with vengeance. Well, now the vengeance part was over, and the horrifying possibilities hit him like a thunderclap.

“You okay, Rob?” Brandon, from his bunk.

Rob sighed. “Yeah.” Then she started shaking badly. Tears started flowing, torrents of liquid pouring from her eyes. She sobbed, shaking with fear, unable to control herself any longer.

Brandon leaped from his bunk, and sat down beside Rob. Instinctively, he pulled her head onto his shoulder. For a long time, Rob cried, thinking nothing odd of crying on his best friend’s shoulder. The fact that Rob was really a guy, temporarily in a girl’s body, was irrelevant to the friends. Finally, Rob’s body stopped convulsing. She sat back from Brandon, wiping tears from her eyes.

“I’m scared,” Rob finally said. “I got...I could be...” She couldn’t finish her sentence, so horrible was the thought. And she didn’t have to. Brandon knew, and he understood. Rob had been multiply raped, forced to perform countless acts of sex. And now she could easily be pregnant. She’d gotten only one dose of birth control before the weekend spun out of control and took away his planned access to the pills. The old woman had warned Rob, and now she had to wait those last painful moments. She _hoped_ that the one pill was enough. In a few minutes, the spell would wear off, and Rob’s fears would be laid to rest. Or a whole new nightmare would begin.

The two sat silently. Words weren’t necessary. Finally, Brandon spoke, his words soft and hopeful. “I think it’s happening.”

The magical transformation, so often a source of wonder and fun for the guys, was now Rob’s lifeline. And as the magic began to unweave, the spell expired and broken, Rob’s body began to shift.

Within a minute or two, it was over. Rob was back to being Rob. The male Rob. His nightmare had passed.

**********

Rob glanced around awkwardly. The note he’d gotten was cryptic — meet me at the burger shop. No signature, no hint of the author. And so, curious, he went, but not without a little nervousness. The events of the past four days had rattled him thoroughly, scaring him more than he’d ever though possible. Last night, he’d awakened in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, his pajamas drenched in perspiration. The nightmare. His dream crossed that confusing line where it's hard to tell what's a dream and what's real, where the dream contained a dream, layer upon layer of illusions within the mind. In his dream, he was sleeping and dreaming about changing back. He dreamed that he'd awakened to find that he hadn't changed back — that the change was an illusion, and that he was stuck as the girl — and pregnant - and servicing a long line of Alphas. When he finally broke out of the complex web of dreams within dreams, he was thoroughly confused and frightened. It took him a long time to calm himself to the point he could sleep again.

“Hi.”

Rob snapped back to reality. He’d let his mind wander, and completely missed her approach. “Oh, hi. I was...uh...daydreaming.”

Vicky smiled as she eased herself into the empty chair. “Right,” she said, sounding a bit skeptical.

“You wrote the note?” Rob asked warily.

Vicky nodded, and then frowned. “You sound like you were expecting someone else.”

Rob trembled, and he knew that Vicky had seen it. “No. It’s just, well, with everything that happened, I’m just a bit nervous. Scared, actually.”

Vicky smiled. “I can understand that. You heard the news? The Alphas are on suspension, and some of their members were arrested on drug possession charges. Date rape drug.”

Rob felt another shiver, and then he nodded. “Yeah, I heard. Even the dean couldn’t protect them this time.”

Vicky reached out and gently touched Rob’s hand. “I just wanted to say thank you.” Rob’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth started to open in protest. Vicky placed her finger across his lips. “Melanie told me what you did, so don’t try to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Rob dropped his gaze, his face reddening with embarrassment. “I ....”

Vicky cut him off. “I know what you went through. It had to be worse for you. I wasn’t really conscious like you were.” She waited for Rob to glance at her again. “Why?” she asked simply.

Rob took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I couldn’t let those guys get away with what they were doing.”

Vicky waited. “Is that the only reason?”

Rob caught her eye, and then dropped his gaze yet again. “No. I think ... well ... I think you stole a piece of my heart. I couldn’t stand the thought of them doing something to you and getting away with it.”

Vicky’s eyes fell, and tears started to form in the corners. “Rob ...” she started to protest.

Rob saw her reaction, and his heart fell. It had taken everything for him to admit that he was smitten with her. And now .... His face fell, his hopes shattered.

Vicky looked up, seeing the pained expression. “No, Rob. Please. You’re so sweet, and so caring.” She waited until he looked at her again. “It’s just that ... I don’t deserve ...." She dropped her gaze.

Rob could see that her body was shaking; she was either very nervous, or crying. He reached out his hand, resting it on hers, trying to reassure her.

Vicky's head snapped up, and Rob's suspicion about tears was confirmed. She snatched her hand from under Rob's, and then started to rise hastily, awkwardly. "I'm sorry," she muttered, averting her gaze from him, as if she were afraid to look in his eyes.

Rob slowly retracted his hand, stunned and embarrassed. His mouth opened to speak, but words wouldn't come out. He sat in awkward silence as Vicky scrambled from the table, her pace quickening as she bolted for the door.

Rob sighed heavily, his heart weighing a ton or more. It had taken all his courage to tell Vicky how he felt. And this was his reward — she ran away. He'd frightened her. He dropped his head, catching it in his hand, his elbow propped on the table. He felt his eyes stinging, echoing the pain in his heart.

Rob felt a hand lightly touching his shoulder, startling him. He glanced up, wondering who might have been able to sneak up on him like this. His fear-filled eyes softened when he recognized Anya.

"Hi, Rob," she said simply.

"Hi," Rob answered, sounding as dejected as he felt. His head drooped again, weighed down by his sadness.

Anya slid into the seat Vicky had just vacated. "I know that was hard," she said softly.

Rob looked up, then back down. It just didn't seem right for Anya to see the tears trickling from his eyes. "I don't understand," he said softly.

Anya clasped his hand. "Hey, listen up Rob." She waited for him to look up at her. "You're a very special guy. Not many guys would do what you did for Vicky."

Rob lowered his eyes. "So why is it that whenever I'm nice and sweet, the girls always leave me? Why is it that I always end up alone and hurt?" Rob knew he could confide in Anya; she was the kind of girl that made a wonderful friend.

Anya smiled sadly. "Some girls never learn. You treat them nice, special, and they go for the guys who dump all over them. And you wonder if you shouldn't start being nasty, too. Right?"

Rob's jaw dropped; she'd read him like a book. A spark of wisdom lit Anya's eyes. "Somewhere out there is a girl who will appreciate you for you, who will be tickled by being treated like a queen, and who won't take advantage of you. She's out there. The hard part is being patient enough to wait for her."

Rob stared into her eyes for a long time, absorbing what she'd said. He dropped his gaze again. "It's so hard. I thought Vicky ... I guess I hoped she'd appreciate me."

Anya waited for Rob to look up again. "I know how you feel about her. But right now, she's hurting inside. More than you can possibly imagine."

Rob nodded. "The rape..."

Anya shook her head. "It's more than the rape. Much more."

Rob looked bewildered. "What?"

Anya dropped her eyes. "I can't tell you," she answered softly. "If she wants you to know, it's her place to tell you." She watched the sadness creep into Rob's eyes. "All I can say is that you scare her right now." She watched Rob's reaction, the sudden shock. "Yes, you scare her. Because I don't think she knows how to deal with her feelings."

Rob shook his head, fighting back tears of frustration. "So what can I do? Leave her alone? Forget her? Try to find somebody else?" He shook his head more emphatically. "I don't want to find someone else. I ... I fell in love with her."

Slowly, Anya nodded her agreement. She knew — she could feel Rob's emotions. "Give her time. Give her space so she doesn't feel crowded. And most of all, be a friend."

FIN

All fraternities sponsor a candidate for the annual Holiday Queen ball. But the Nerds are having a problem finding a girl to sponsor. That is, until one of them suggests using the magic of Bikini Beach.

(This tale is largely based on Revenge of the Nerds, and is set in the Bikini Beach universe. The characters were initially defined in my earlier tale "Bikini Beach: The Nerds — Revenge")

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This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

The flier couldn't have been less inconspicuous; brightly colored and large, it dominated the bulletin board in the student union, attracting attention as it had been designed to do. Robert eased past the sorority girls clustered in front of the board, ignoring their disdainful snorts and comments, and took a closer look at the flier.

To Robert, it looked like a good idea; as a southern city, there wouldn't be any snow to deal with, but sun and fun. The flier further detailed the events. The student union board sponsored the games and food — all seemed to have tropical themes, including the pig roast luau — and it was free. Then Robert read the last lines and his heart sank. The event included the annual Holiday Queen pageant, where the fraternities sponsored the entrants. Even as he stepped away from the bulletin board, Robert knew that the Nu Rho Delta fraternity, his fraternity and the newest on campus, was going to have to sponsor a girl.

As Robert walked back to his room, he felt the pall of his social status darkening what should have been anticipation of a fun event. By the time he got to the old gym, the new fraternity house of the NRDs, he was almost depressed. He shuffled through the lobby, ignoring the construction workers rehabilitating the old gym into his frat's house. He tossed his books on his desk and slouched into a chair.

Bert heard the crash of the books and lifted his head from his pillow. He rolled and stared down from the top bunk, searching for the source of the interruption to his nap. "Oh, it's you," he said through a yawn as he spotted Robert. "I say, you look a bit down." Bert's British accent was unmistakable; he was the only member of the fraternity from the UK.

Robert glanced up, and then slumped back in his chair, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. "Yeah, I guess." He sounded completely without enthusiasm.

Bert twisted and leaped from the third bunk. Originally, their room was part of a makeshift dorm in the old gymnasium. But since the fraternity had been started, rooms had emptied; after all, not everyone wanted to be part of a nerd fraternity. It was no longer necessary to have triple bunks; in fact, some of the guys had single rooms. But Bert had bonded with his two roommates, and after a quick council, they had decided to remain in one room.

The Brit yanked open the refrigerator and pulled out a couple of cans of Coke. One he handed to Robert; the other, he opened as he sat down. "So," he said after a long swig of cola, "what's the problem this time? The Dean trying to get us again?"

Robert glanced up, then shook his head. He popped open his own can and took a long swig. "No. I think he's laying off us for a while. I think we make him nervous."

Bert tilted back his head and laughed heartily. "I can understand why." That the Nerds had used the magic of Bikini Beach to effectively blackmail the dean into accepting their application as a fraternity was a very closely guarded secret. Though they didn't know precisely why the dean disliked them so much, they knew not to trust the man.

"Holiday Luau," Robert answered Bert's original question. He took another sip of his pop.

Bert frowned. "What exactly is a 'Holiday Luau'?" he asked. "It sounds like some type of celebration."

"It's a great big party," a voice answered from the door. Both boys' heads nearly snapped as they spun to see who had come into their room. It was Brandon, the third roommate and Robert's lifelong best friend. Brandon's eyes were aglow with excitement. "It's a big Hawaiian style party, with games and contests. Most girls dress in bikinis and grass skirts." He sat down on the modest sofa. "Oh, and there's a big pig roast, too!" Brandon's eyes lit up. "It's going to be great! There's even a beauty pageant."

Bert shifted his glance between Robert and Brandon. The contrast between the way these two were taking the same news couldn't have been more striking. He looked at Robert. "So what's the problem?"

Robert shook his head. "The problem is that we, as a fraternity, have to sponsor a girl as an entrant in the pageant."

Brandon didn't seem to really comprehend Robert's concern. "So we find a girl to sponsor. No big deal, right?" He hadn't lost any of his enthusiasm.

Robert shook his head, and he saw Brandon's face fall. "So, we're nerds," he said bitterly. "How are we going to find a girl to sponsor?"

**********

Brandon and Chuck sat at the table, facing an array of sofas and chairs pulled around them in the 'lounge' area. In reality, the lounge was just another section of the basketball court, but devoid of the temporary partitions which constituted the rooms. Little light filtered in through the large windows on one wall; it was late, and there was no sunlight. The dim light came from the few remaining bulbs in the ceiling fixtures, diminished in number to save the college electricity costs, and a couple of floor lamps flanking the table. The table itself, in an ironic twist to the nerds' interests and lack of sporting skills, was situated on the free throw line of the court, the faded paint lines still visibly marking the original purpose of the facility. Even more ironically, laptop computers and smart-phones were prolific in the room, including a laptop on the table, obviously for organizational purposes.

Brandon pressed a key on the laptop, and then banged a gavel, formally initiating the procedures and silencing the murmurs of the membership. "This meeting is officially called to order." Okay, I'd like a motion to dispense with the formalities and get right to the business at hand." Six voices immediately called out, "so moved," while the matching hands shot in the air. "Second," rang out almost immediately afterward. And in keeping with their normal and quite informal way of conducting business, the membership shouted out their "Aye," votes without waiting for Brandon to call for them.

Brandon tapped his gavel again. He glanced at a screen and pressed a couple of buttons. This part always screwed up the voice recognition system they used for minutes, and as usual, he had to clear the jumble. A couple of deft keystrokes replaced that which the software couldn't recognize with their standard 'start of meeting and dispense with formalities' template. "Okay guys," Brandon began, "I checked and we are supposed to sponsor a girl for the pageant." He glanced at Robert, who looked glum. "This shouldn't be a problem. Being the Holiday Queen is a social goal for all the sorority girls; they should be anxious to be sponsored." He picked up his tablet computer and tapped it a few times. "I've compiled a list of sororities and other women's organizations, like the Society of Women Engineers." He glanced over the list. "Everyone has an assignment to contact the girls. We'll have interviews here next week. Okay?" With little additional to-do, the meeting broke up.

**********

"I don't understand it," Brandon said again, sitting at the table in the lounge and glancing around the room. None were present apart from the nerds sprawled in their sofas and chairs, and this fact seemed to be Brandon's concern. He glanced at Chuck. "You made all your calls, right?"

Chuck nodded. "Even the Tri-Delts." He shook his head forlornly. "Looks like even the triple-nipples are no-shows."

Brandon shook his head again. "I don't get it. This is the social highlight for the women. They should be here for the auditions." He glanced at Robert. "You got the ad in the student paper, right?" He didn't wait for Robert's answer; they'd all seen the advertisement for their interviews for a Nu Rho Delta sponsored entrant. Brandon glanced at another member. The nerds had taken a considerable amount of ribbing about the ad; none of the other student organizations had advertised for candidates, let alone posted an ad with the 'nerdy' criteria for their candidate — including GPA. "And we all saw the fliers, right?" He shook his head, a genuinely perplexed look on his face. "I just don't get it."

The sound of the doors creaking open brought a ray of hope to Brandon's face; all heads spun toward the doors. Then the hopeful countenances fell as they recognized the newcomer. "Hey, Greg," Brandon said unenthusiastically.

Greg, the newest member of the NRDs, slid easily into a vacant chair. "Hey, guys. Sorry I'm late." He glanced around. "So did you already pick one?"

Bert shook his head. "Not exactly. No one showed up."

Greg's face fell. "So what are we going to do?" He glanced at Arnold. "You talked to some of the independent girls, didn't you?"

Arnold finished the swig of soda and let out a small but vocal belch. "Yup." He shook his head. "Only a few told me no, but the rest didn't sound too enthusiastic." He winced visibly. "And some of the no's were quite explicit."

All the guys flinched at Arnold's words; as lifelong nerds, they'd all experienced the stinging rebuke of uninterested girls. As such, they sympathized with his pain.

Greg sighed. "And the sororities are off limits, too." His words caused a stir, a wave of disbelief coursing around the room. He nodded for emphasis. "Vicky, down at the park, told me that the sororities have basically dictated that their members can't be sponsored by us. Except for the triple nipples." He glanced hopefully at Brandon and Chuck. They were shaking their heads, letting Greg know that the Tri-Delta girls had turned them down, too. This was stunningly bad news; the Tri-Deltas, better known as the triple nipples, were the most outgoing bunch of girls on the campus. They had even dated nerds, as long as they got some sex out of the deal. If the Tri Deltas had turned down the guys, there was no way in hell they were going to get a girl to sponsor.

Fred, the youngest of the group, suddenly perked up, his eyes illuminated with an idea. "What about your girlfriend, Greg? Anya? Why can't we sponsor her?"

A buzz filled the room; it was the first truly hopeful thought of the evening. The hope lasted but a few seconds; as the guys murmured about the possibility, Robert had been furiously tapping his own tablet computer. Using the wireless connection to the campus intranet, he retrieved some information. "Uh," he cleared his throat, silencing the guys instantly, "no good. She's not a student."

This was but a minor setback as far as Brandon was concerned. "No problem. We can enroll her in a continuing ed class. Something in the Business College. I'm sure her grandmother would like that; it would be a plus for the park and for Anya. And if we picked up the cost, it'd be nothing out of her pocket." His enthusiasm had bubbled up anew; his thoughts were spewing forth almost faster than he could speak them. "And if we get her in a night class, something that's once a week, then it shouldn't have any impact on her work at the park." He turned to Greg. "What do you think? Would she go for it?"

Greg leaned back, his eyes staring at a blank wall, clearly fixed in thought. "Hmm," he mumbled. "She might..."

"No joy," Robert interrupted, killing the renewed hope. "The rules specify full-time students only. Anya's not eligible."

Chuck nodded, his expression grim. "How about the other girls at the park? Vicky, or Marta? There are some who work and go to school full time, aren't there?" He was desperately groping for some kind of answer.

Greg sighed. "Vicky — you don't want to ask her. She's got some pretty strong opinions about these kinds of things." He shook his head. "And Belinda, Marta, Holly, and Norma are all in one of the sororities. They wouldn't defy their sorority for anything."

Chuck and Brandon glanced at each other, and then nodded. "Okay, I guess that's it. We don't have a candidate to sponsor." Brandon reached for the gavel, to officially close this depressing meeting.

Before he could bang the gavel down, Fred stood up. "Wait a minute, guys," he interrupted. His eyes were lit with a curious fire, some brainstorm of an idea which he couldn't contain and had to share. "Who says we don't have a girl to sponsor?"

Brandon's eyes narrowed. He swept his arms wide, sweeping the room. "Look around," he said disgustedly. "Do you see any girls?"

Fred's smile broadened. "Not now. But there are plenty of potential girls here." His smile turned into a full-fledged grin.

It took a few seconds for the implications of his words to sink in. "Bikini Beach," Robert muttered, his eyes aglow with hope. He returned to his tablet, fingers flying as he sought more information about the pageant and the surrounding events.

Anticipation returned to the group. And with it came a little dread. Arnold cleared his throat. "So one of us would have to change? For how long?" He voiced the unspoken fear of all.

Brandon shrugged. "A couple of days for the pageant, right?" He glanced at Robert hopefully.

Robert stood, shaking his head. "Not quite. According to the schedule of events, there are events scattered over three weeks, with pretty much full-time events for the last week."

Chuck nodded his understanding. "And given the administration's view of us, you can bet they'd be giving our candidate some thorough scrutiny. So it's probably be three solid weeks."

A nondescript member rose, adjusting his thick glasses that seemed to teeter on the end of his nose. "So whoever changes is going to be a girl for three weeks? What if she wins?" His squeaky voice wavered as he voiced a new fear.

Eyes widened as silence descended over the room. No one had considered that possibility. All heads turned toward Robert, who after a moment of stunned inaction, returned to his computer.

He looked up after a few seconds, biting his lower lip. "Not good, Paul," he answered the wiry member. "Not good."

Paul sat down slowly. "Define 'not good'," he squeaked.

Robert took a breath. "By tradition, the Holiday Queen and her court ride in the New Year's Day parade." He glanced up. "So if she wins..."

Greg nodded with the rest of the gang. "...she's stuck as a girl until after New Year's Day." He winced. "Guys, this is getting complicated. If we're still going to do this, I'd better give Anya a call."

**********

The meeting was reduced to the executive council — Brandon, Chuck, Bert, Arnold, and Greg — with Anya, all seated around the table. A few guys had drifted into the lounge, driven by deep curiosity, but they obeyed protocol and stayed silent as they listened.

"Okay," Anya nodded as she glanced at the notes she'd taken. "Let's see if I've got this straight. You want a member to be changed into a girl as your representative for the pageant, right? And the change is only temporary?" She frowned. "And you expect the dean to do some thorough scrutiny, so the change has to include a complete background?" She thought a second. "After the change back, you guys want everyone to remember the girl, and that you sponsored her, right?"

Brandon nodded. "No sense doing this if no one remembers."

Anya nodded her agreement. "But you'll have to preserve the memory of whoever changes, too. Otherwise, when he changes back, class records and such will be pretty fouled up." She sat back, biting her lip as she stared into space. "Sheesh, you guys don't ask for much, do you?" She stared for long, agonizing minutes, and the guys could tell that she was in deep concentration. The clock ticked with painful slowness. Finally, she looked at Brandon, a faint smile on her face. "I think I can do it. It's going to be tricky, but I think I can handle it." She gave Greg a sideways glance. "And if I need help, I've got a friend who'd love to work on this one." There was a twinkle in her eye that made Brandon suddenly feel nervous.

Within moments, news had spread from the lounge, and the call to a meeting was a mere formality.

"Good news," Brandon announced as soon as the guys had all been seated. "Anya said she can do it."

Anya gave Brandon a nudge. "So now do you guys draw straws?"

Brandon grinned. "Not quite." He pulled out his smart-phone and stood up, and saw the guys mimic his movement. He glanced at Robert. "All logged on?"

Robert nodded. "All set." He pushed a button, and instantly, a computer somewhere in the building began communicating with all the phones. Random patterns began to flit across the screens as a randomizing program began to run. For several seconds, each guy had his eyes fixed on his phone, watching the screen with dread and anticipation. Finally, the patterns ceased, and a simple word displayed on each PDA. All but one displayed the word 'NO'. The remaining smart-phone displayed 'YES'. Sighs of relief echoed through the lounge. One after another, each guy whose phones said 'NO' sat down. Finally, only one guy was left standing.

Paul glanced at his phone, then back at the head table where Brandon and Anya were sitting. His hand trembled slightly. "Okay," he said, acknowledging his fate with that one simple word.

**********

Anya was bent over the computer in the Bikini Beach ticket booth, concentrating intently on her task. Outside the booth, the wiry little Paul stood between Greg and Brandon; it wasn't clear if they were present to support him or to keep him from running away. It was early on Friday morning; that afternoon, the entrants in the pageant would be formally introduced. So this was the latest that they could change Paul if he was going to enter.

After several minutes, Anya came out carrying a card. "Let's make sure we have this correct." She was talking to Paul. "Height, five four?" Paul nodded slightly. That was only three inches shorter than Paul's current height. "Weight, one fifteen?" Another nod. "Dark hair?"

Paul looked down and nodded. "I've always liked dark hair," he muttered. In his mind, he thought how nice Anya's brunette hair looked — long and slightly wavy, held back in a ponytail. He wanted hair like that; it was the kind of hair he liked.

Anya's eyes twinkled. "Thanks," she said, as if she'd read his mind. Greg smirked, but Brandon and Paul stood confused. "36, 22, 33, right? And a D-cup?" Paul flushed crimson, and he nodded hesitantly as Anya revealed the data. She looked at Paul. "Anything else?"

Paul thought for a moment. "I can't think of anything."

Anya smiled. "I've got a suggestion, if you don't mind." She waited, but Paul said nothing. "I can make you a touch, um, exotic. Say one quarter Hawaiian?"

Paul thought for a moment. "Okay," he finally said. "I guess." He didn't sound at all enthusiastic. "But what would I look like?"

Anya smiled. "I kind of figured you'd take the suggestion." She unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to Paul.

Paul stared at the photo, or very nearly a photo, of a girl. She was slender and athletic looking, with dark wavy hair framing her face. She looked tanned; on closer look, Paul realized that she had some Island blood in her, and her skin was lightly browned. "Wow!" he exclaimed softly, his eyes locked on the girl in the picture. Finally, he looked up at Anya, confused. "What...?"

Anya smiled. "It's a computer generated image of what you'll look like."

Brandon and Greg peered over Paul's shoulders at the picture. "No way this is CGI," Brandon finally said. "There's no software good enough to do this."

Anya smiled. "Actually, it's magic software. My friend works in a store that sells things like this. She lets me use this. It really helps for a guy to know what he's going to look like after he changes."

Brandon looked at the picture again. "If I didn't know how you work here, I wouldn't believe it." He smiled. "I'd sure love to have a copy of that software."

Anya smiled enigmatically. "Trust me, you wouldn't. Not unless you use magic. Or enjoy being a bimbo." The boys gulped; they knew of the magic in the park, so it wasn't hard for them to imagine that what she said was true.

Anya's smile faded. "There's one problem, though. To keep your memories intact, I can't just give you all the, uh, feminine skills you'll need for the pageant."

"Why not?" Paul said, his eyes furrowed in concern.

Anya sighed. "If I gave you those skills, it would alter your mind. The change would be slight, and very subtle, but it would be changed. To pull all of this off, you have to keep all your memories."

Paul glanced between Brandon and Greg, then back at Anya. This was getting far more complicated than he'd bargained for. "So, what you're saying is that I'll be a klutz? A guy in a girl's body?" He wrinkled his nose in confusion. "That's going to be confusing, isn't it?"

Anya shook her head. "No, I can give you all the lower-level skills, the things that are almost reflexive. You know — walking, going to the bathroom, those things. But higher skills, those that you learn later in life — well, you're going to have to learn those for yourself."

"Skills — like what?" Paul was starting to feel nervous.

Anya tried to avoid an outward sign of concern. "Makeup. Walking gracefully. Things girls start to worry about during puberty."

Paul mulled things over for a quick few seconds. "So how do I learn?"

Anya smiled. "I've already taken care of that. You know Vicky, one of the staff here, don't you? You're going to be her roommate, and in return for helping you learn what you need to know, you'll tutor her."

Brandon got a concerned look. "Tutoring? In what? Women's studies? Nursing?"

Anya scowled, fighting the urge to shake her head. "She happens to be a dual major studying pre-law and electrical engineering," she said through clenched teeth. "You can help with the engineering."

Brandon cringed. "I guess I deserved that." He glanced at Paul.

Paul shrugged. "Okay, I guess that'll work."

Anya smiled. "Well, then let's get started." She gestured toward the entrance gate.

Paul started to walk, but halted. "So I just shower? Like...?

Anya smiled. "Right." She knew that he'd been one of the guys who'd been purposefully changed into big-busted bimbos to get revenge on the Alpha fraternity. There wasn't any point in specifying exactly which event; it was obviously embarrassing for all the guys who had been through that change.

**********

It was Paul that emerged from the locker room, Greg and Brandon reminded themselves. And yet, it wasn't Paul. Paul was a five foot seven wiry kid with thick glasses. This was Paul's mind in a stunning container.

Anya elbowed Greg. "Reel in your tongue," she hissed.

It was easy to forgive Greg for his gawking. Paul had been transformed into a lovely girl, five foot four, with a shapely figure and ample bosoms. Her hips were wrapped in a decorative floral print sarong, and a matching band concealed her breasts. Her bare midriff displayed a flat tummy and shapely waist. Her long hair had just a touch of wave in it; she was wearing it parted, sweeping back behind her ears and down off her shoulders. For effect, Anya had added a flower behind her ear; with her light brown skin and the sarong, she looked like a picture from the islands. All that was missing was a floral lei.

"Wow!" Brandon mumbled. "You look...great!"

Paul blushed. It was obvious that he felt a little self-conscious in this body, and Brandon and Greg's leering didn't help. "Anya said my name is Melanie now," she said, surprising herself at the soft, melodic tone of her new voice. "Melanie Keilani Lewis."

Anya interrupted the staring. "You guys have to get her to her room, so Vicky can start teaching her the finer points of behavior and grace."

Melanie shrugged, and then started across the asphalt toward the car. She walked with an awkward, clumsy gait, but still, with her wider hips and altered center of gravity, her hips swayed in a seductive manner. Greg and Brandon caught themselves staring at the girl, then forced themselves to remember that this lovely creature was really Paul.

"Uh, Melanie?" Anya's question caused Melanie to stop and turn, yet another awkward motion. Anya winced inwardly; there was a long way to go to turn Melanie into a refined woman. "You're a woman." She saw the confusion on Melanie's face. "You forgot your purse in the locker room."

Melanie blushed, and strode in a most unladylike manner back to the locker room. When she emerged, she was carrying the purse like it was a grenade. This time, Brandon and Greg winced. As Melanie walked back toward the car, with Anya at her side, Greg leaned closer to Brandon. "She's got a long way to go to be a lady," he whispered.

Brandon nodded his agreement. "You think we can pull this off?" He watched Melanie walk. "She's walking like a guy."

Greg grimaced. "Yup. I wonder if Anya bit off more than she could chew with this one."

**********

"You must be Melanie," the girl at the desk called without looking up. "Anya said you'd be here this afternoon."

Melanie opened the door fully and stepped into the room, glancing around nervously. "Hi," she said meekly.

The girl at the desk looked up and grinned. "Don't be so shy," she admonished. "After all, it's just us girls here for the next few weeks." There was something in the way she spoke the words that made Melanie a bit nervous.

Melanie tossed her handbag on the vacant desk and sat down. The girl smiled at Melanie's clumsiness. "Well, dear, it looks like I've got my work cut out for me, huh?" She extended her hand. "I'm Vicky."

Melanie shook her hand. "Hi." Then she blushed. "I guess I said that already, huh?"

Vicky managed, barely, to stifle the guffaw. "Look, Mel. Is it all right if I call you Mel?" Without an immediate reaction, Vicky assumed she had permission. "You don't have to be so nervous."

Melanie bit her lower lip. "I'm sorry. It's just that, well, I've never, uh, that is, I've..."

Vicky grinned. "You've never been alone with a girl in a girl's dorm, is that it?" She laughed aloud. "Look, Mel, you're a girl now. A girl." She made it really clear that she knew of the magic. "Tell you what," she suddenly said, then stood and pulled off her blouse. Mel sat rigidly in her chair, her eyes wide and fearful and fixed on the well-filled lacy bra Vicky was wearing. Vicky smiled again and fumbled with the bra, unfastening the front hook. She slipped her arms out of the straps and let the bra drop. Her boobs were bared for Mel to see.

Mel's eyes were riveted on Vicky's firm breasts. She glanced up at Vicky, and then her gaze dropped again of its own accord.

Vicky spread her arms, the motion causing her boobs to lift slightly. She turned a bit one way, then the other. Finally, she dropped her arms. "Okay?" She sat down on the chair, her chest still bare. "Tell me what you were feeling."

Mel swallowed, feeling very nervous. "I, uh, I, well, it was interesting."

Vicky laughed. "You're a virgin, aren't you." She watched as Mel glanced down, blushing. "I mean as a guy. Aren't you."

Mel looked up, then nodded in embarrassment. Then her mouth dropped in shock. Vicky knew. "You...you know I'm...I was...a virgin?"

Vicky smiled. "It wasn't too hard to guess, not the way you reacted." She fetched her blouse and began to pull it on. "Anyway, tell me what you felt when I was taking off my bra."

Melanie swallowed again. "I..." She halted and frowned. "It wasn't what I expected!" she complained softly.

Vicky smiled and put her hand on Mel's shoulder. "Look, you were expecting to get aroused from my little show, right?" Mel turned, confused, and looked in Vicky's eyes. "You still have your guy memories, and in the back of your mind, you think my little titty show should get you horny, right?" She smiled gently. "You're not a guy right now. When you got changed, you got the basic package of girl instincts and hormones. So my bod doesn't do anything for you." She smiled. "Your body and your mind are out of sync right now. I bet if you saw a gorgeous man, you'd start getting the feeling you thought you'd get from me."

Mel looked down, embarrassed. "I hope not," she said softly.

Vicky smiled. "I guess that's good enough for lesson one. From what Anya told me, you've got a lot to learn before the pageant." She spat the word 'pageant' as if it were disgusting to her. "But right now," she turned to her own desk, "I'm working on a problem and I could use some help."

Mel's features softened. This was something she could handle. "What course?" she asked softly. The comfort of a familiar discussion let her true voice ring out, soft and mellifluous and carrying just a touch of an Island accent.

Vicky picked up her book. "Circuit theory 201."

Mel's eyes lit up at the sight of the book. "Hayt and Kemmerly!" she cried excitedly. "Good intro book."

Vicky stared, and then a smile crept onto her features. "You know something, kid? This could be the start of a beautiful friendship."

**********

"Okay, guys," Brandon announced, hoping to get some silence in the lounge. "Guys," he implored again. This time, the noise dropped dramatically. "I'd like to introduce our candidate for the Holiday Queen, Melanie Keilani Lewis."

At Brandon's words, Melanie strode out of the hall into the lounge. She blushed at the gasps and catcalls directed her way; she had clearly made a big impression on these guys and it embarrassed her. She walked, still with Paul's ungainly stride, to the front, where she turned, nearly tripping and falling, and then she smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

The white shorts she wore displayed nearly every inch of her shapely brown legs, perfect with not an ounce of fat. Instead of the sarong band, she now wore a floral print shirt, tied beneath her bosoms and open on top to display some cleavage. Her hair had been rearranged by Vicky into a neat ponytail. In a word, she was breathtaking to the assembled guys.

"Remember, that's Paul," Brandon cautioned his fellow nerds. Inwardly, he wondered how long it would take for these guys to forget that Melanie was really Paul.

"Paul never looked so good," an unknown member called from the rear. He said what was on everyone's mind; as a girl, Paul was a knockout.

"Yeah, well I'm not going to let you guys forget," Melanie said with a scowl. She wasn't sure if she enjoyed being treated like this. On the one hand, the attention was great. On the other hand, she felt very self-conscious. And even as she tried to warn her frat brothers, her voice oozed with a feminine charm that added to her allure. Sure, her words were crude, and her speech pattern was rough, but the potential was there for a thoroughly sexy woman with a wet-dream voice.

Brandon sighed. He was starting to think that this was going to be a long three weeks.

**********

"Like this?" Melanie asked as she wrapped the towel around herself, hiding herself from mid-thigh to just above her bosom. One loose end she tucked between the towel and herself, forming a tight wrap.

Vicky smiled. "That's it." She, too, was wrapped in a towel and was preparing for her shower.

Melanie scowled. "I can't do this," she complained. "It's not...right!"

Vicky sighed for perhaps the hundredth time in as many minutes. "Remember our lesson this afternoon? Everyone else here is a girl, right?" Melanie nodded slowly. "So what's the problem?"

Mel sighed, then nodded slowly. "Okay, I guess. Let's go."

The pair walked from their room down to the bathroom, Vicky leading confidently and Melanie trailing nervously. As Vicky opened the door, a girl, hair wrapped in one towel and body in another, stepped lightly out into the hall. "Hi, Mel," she sang sweetly.

"Oh, hi," Melanie answered. She felt confused; the girl obviously knew her, but she didn't know the girl.

Vicky nonchalantly hung her towel on a hook and strode naked into the shower. Mel gulped and glanced around. It was hard to think like a girl; she was in a girl's body, in a girl's dorm, about to step into a girl's shower, but she still had lots of male thoughts. She stepped into the shower and turned on the water.

As she lathered her hair, Mel heard another shower turn on. She felt her cheeks redden, but there was nothing she could do. She finished washing her hair and began to rinse it. Finally, with all the shampoo gone, she brushed the hair back off her forehead and opened her eyes.

Mel felt her heart stop. In the same shower with her and Vicky was Terri Preston, the head cheerleader and one of the most gorgeous girls on campus. Mel gulped; the water ran down Terri's long blond hair and cascaded off her boobs, those perky round orbs that guys drooled over, including nearly every guy in the nerd house. And Mel was seeing them up close. Terri was at least four inches taller than Mel, and was well built. Trim and sexy. Mel found herself making a serious comparison. Terri wasn't at petite; her waist wasn't as narrow as Mel's, and her rear was less rounded. She looked more like an athlete.

Mel felt a nudge, and she glanced at Vicky. For some reason, Vicky was grinning. Vicky handed her a bottle, and Mel glanced at it, confused. Cream rinse? She wrinkled her nose, and from the corner of her eye, saw Vicky grin again. Mel opened the bottle and dabbed some on her hand, then rubbed it into her hair. Vicky smiled as Mel finished rinsing a second time. As she wiped the dripping water from her face, gathering her hair to the back, Mel saw Vicky jerk her head toward the door, indicating that they should leave. Melanie handed Vicky the bottle, gathered her shampoo and soap, and shut off her shower.

Terri finished wetting her hair, and she opened her eyes. "Oh, hi Mel," she said sweetly. "Vicky." Her tone toward Vicky was far less sweet; a sudden thought slammed into Mel's brain that Terri was somehow jealous of Vicky. "I saw you're entered in the Holiday Queen pageant." Again, her voice was overly sweet.

Melanie reached outside and grabbed her towel. She began to pat her hair dry, wondering for a brief second how she'd known to do that. "That's right," Mel answered. "I'm being sponsored by the Nu Rho house. And you're being sponsored by the Alphas, right?"

Terri smiled, flexing her back slightly, an act which made her boobs seem to jut out more. "Len insisted," she cooed. "Well, I guess we'll be seeing lots of each other during the pageant activities." She glanced at Vicky, and her eyes seemed to turn to daggers. "Those of us lucky enough to be sponsored, at least."

Vicky stiffened imperceptibly as she stepped from the shower. Mel was right behind her. Something Terri had said was irritating to Melanie, and she struggled to identify it. What was it? She finished drying, then wrapped the towel around her hair. The second towel went around her body, and she walked down the hall to their room.

Vicky came in on her heels. "Bitch," she snarled. It was more than obvious that Vicky hated Terri. Then Vicky's face lightened. "How did you walk like that?" she asked.

Melanie frowned. "Like what?"

"Like...like you did coming down the hall." Melanie's confusion showed on her face. "Oh, come on!" Vicky complained. "It was so...graceful!"

Melanie concentrated, and then she shook her head. "I don't know. I wasn't thinking about it."

A dawning light of recognition filled Vicky's eyes as she got her nightie out of her closet. "So what were you thinking about?"

Melanie scowled, concentrating, as she dropped her own towel. She opened her closet, only to find that her choices of nightwear were a lace teddy and a girlish nightshirt. "Great," she muttered. She grabbed the shirt and turned back to Vicky. "I was thinking about...the contest. And how much I hope that stuck-up witch doesn't win!"

Vicky grinned and laughed aloud. "I like your taste in girls," she said when she could talk again. She leaned closer to Melanie. "You know, she's not a natural blonde." Her voice was hushed, like they were in some conspiracy.

Melanie started. "No, I..." She halted, and she remembered the shower, the dark brown hair of Terri's pubic patch. Melanie's eyes widened, then she started giggling.

Vicky smiled through the giggling. Melanie was making good progress. If only she could stay focused. And Vicky now knew the perfect way — remind her that if Melanie didn't compete well, then Terri would win.

**********

"Okay, try again." Vicky set down the washcloth and watched.

Once more, Melanie leaned forward, toward the vanity mirror. In one hand, she held a small case of eye shadow, and in the other, she held a small brush-like instrument. Carefully, she rubbed the brush on the makeup, then she leaned even further forward, trying desperately to keep the one eyelid shut while holding the other one open. She shifted the brush to her other hand, and began to gingerly wipe it on her eyelid. After rubbing a bit, she transferred the brush to the other hand and repeated the awkward process on her other eye. She leaned back from the mirror and peeked at Vicky.

Vicky stood shaking her head slowly in disbelief. "No," she admonished slowly. "You're not painting a barn." She turned Mel back to the mirror. "Is it even?"

Mel glanced, and then dropped her gaze. "No," she admitted. "This is hard."

Vicky grimaced and nodded. "Yes, it is," she acknowledged. "You're going to be doing things for this pageant," again she spat the word distastefully, "that require you to do your own makeup." She handed Mel the washcloth. "So let's keep going until you can put on makeup without looking like a hooker."

A knock sounded at the door; Vicky opened it. "Oh, hi."

Brandon slipped past Vicky. "Hi, Melanie. How's it going?"

Melanie turned, shrugging her shoulders. "Okay, I guess."

"Makeup?" Brandon exclaimed in disbelief as he spied what the girls were doing. "Isn't that going a bit overboard?"

Vicky snorted her disgust. "You want her to look nice for this thing, right?" She grabbed Brandon's arm and pulled him toward the door. "So shoo. Go. Leave. We've got work to do." She shoved Brandon into the hall, and pushed the door shut against his protests. "Sheesh!"

Mel grinned. "He means well," she defended. "But sometimes, he's so...naíve! So geeky!"

Vicky's mouth dropped in astonishment. "Geeky?" She shook her head. "You are, too!" she exclaimed. "Or rather, you were."

Mel laughed, and then swept her arms open, revealing her feminine curves and charms. "Not any more, from what I see!"

Vicky joined the laughter. "Okay, so you're not quite so geeky." She handed Mel the brush that Mel had dropped. "Now let's try for not quite so slutty, too!"

Mel giggled and began yet another attempt at eye shadow. Vicky sighed aloud. This was but one of many items of cosmetics that Mel was going to have to learn, and judging from her progress, it was going to take a lot of practice.

Melanie finished and turned, already wincing from the expected tongue-lashing.

It didn't come. Vicky slowly nodded. "Okay, that's not bad." She grinned. "It's not good, but at least you don't look like a five-dollar whore."

Mel leaned back against the vanity. "Can I ask you something?"

Vicky shrugged. "Shoot."

"You don't like the pageant, do you?"

Mel saw the muscles in Vicky's jaw tighten, then slowly relax as Vicky let out a deep breath. "They aren't my thing," she said in a practiced, deliberately cool voice. She turned back to put away the cosmetics. "We'll take a break from this. Besides, you need to help me with LC tank circuits, remember?"

Mel knew that there was something there; something that Vicky didn't want to talk about. And her tone left it clear that the subject was off limits.

**********

"We're going _where_ for the pictures?" Mel's voice was disbelieving. Beside her, Vicky's mouth hung open.

Greg and Randy glanced at each other. "I understood you," Greg said, "so you must have been speaking English. Funny, though, that they don't seem to understand."

Randy shrugged. "Temporary insanity. Or amnesia." He turned back to the girls, two in a pack of nearly twenty. "I said," he repeated, very slowly and careful in his enunciation, "we're going to do the photo shoot at Bikini Beach. Bi-ki-ni Beach."

Tiffany crossed her arms over her bosom and snorted in disgust. "You guys think you're clowns, huh?" She half-turned to some of the other girls. "This is going to be such a waste! I mean, couldn't they have at least gotten decent photographers instead of Nerds?"

Another girl hissed, loudly enough that Greg and Randy couldn't help but hear, "Like I'm supposed to be in a bikini in front of nerds? Yeah, like right!" The sarcasm dripped from her voice like venom.

Greg heard, he just gave a quick wink to Randy. "What say we really show them?"

Dean Livingstone and Coach Fielding both glanced at the two boys, then the Dean spoke. "This is a real coup for the university, to be able to do the Holiday Queen photo shoot at Bikini Beach." He was barely concealing the lust in his voice. "There were certain conditions, however, and so we are forced," he paused, glaring sideways at the nerds, who pretended not to notice, "to use these two young men as photographers."

The girls weren't mollified; they stirred and chattered uneasily.

Coach Fielding raised his hands, commanding silence. "Look, girls," he barked, "I know you're not happy about this. But we are providing day-long passes for you after the photo shoot. While I've never been to Bikini Beach, I understand that the park is one of the best, so I'm sure you'll have a good day."

The girls quit protesting and started filing onto the bus for the short ride. Greg gave Randy a wink, and the two started walking toward their car.

From nowhere, the dean appeared, latching firmly onto the elbow of each boy as he strode between them. His jaw was firmly set and his eyes narrowed with anger. "I don't know how you little twerps swung this deal, but I know you're up to something. I know what you little perverts are thinking," he snarled, "and I'm warning you — keep your hands off those girls." He abruptly dropped their elbows and stalked to his own car, leaving the boys standing dumbfounded.

"Definitely an anti-social type," Greg muttered. He slapped Randy's arm and resumed the short walk to his car.

The guys had their plan; they beat the bus to Bikini Beach by nearly ten minutes, and they'd showered and changed by the time the girls started to step off the bus.

"Okay, girls," Randy and Greg directed, totally female, shapely, and clad in short shorts and scoop-necked short-sleeve shirts, "here are your passes. Go stand over by the ticket booth, please." Randy handed each girl a card as she exited the bus. More than one girl stared jealously at Randy and Greg as she strutted by, thrusting her own chest outward to emphasize her own bosom. Randy elbowed Greg and giggled; they'd asked Anya to become very shapely girls, more attractive than any of the girls in the pageant, and with much curvier bodies. Just their little gag to tweak all the 'in crowd' girls.

The Dean's attitude toward them was definitely changed. Instead of glaring at them, he kept peering into Randy's and Greg's vast and inviting cleavage. "Okay, where do we go?"

Randy ignored the Dean. "Swipe your card at the gate, then go in the locker room and change. Anya will be waiting to lead you to the where we'll be setting up the cameras." Anya raised her hand and waved to identify herself.

The Dean stepped toward Anya, drawing himself to full height and thrusting out his chest in what he believed was a manly display. "And where is my pass, young lady?" he asked boldly. "As Dean of Students, I must insist that they have an official university representative as chaperone at all times. After all, this is official university business." He got a smug, self-important smirk on his face.

Anya gave a quick sideways glance at Greg, and caught his warning frown. She smiled to herself; she didn't need Greg to understand what this pompous ass was up to. Her magic had given her a very clear picture of the deviant things running through his mind. She crossed her arms firmly. "I'm sorry, Dean, but the conditions allow for only one chaperone, and the coach was the person specified in the contract."

The Dean started to sputter. "But, see here, young lady..."

Anya didn't bother to listen; she'd already turned toward the gate. Most of the girls were already in the locker room changing, and Greg and Randy were scurrying toward the camera sites. Coach Fielding was standing beside the gate, holding his pass like a treasure. Anya paused a moment. "Just swipe the card and change in the locker room," she instructed. She swiped her own pass and went through the turnstile, then turned. "And be sure to shower," she added quickly. "Health department regulations."

The coach grinned, then swiped the card and practically dashed to the shower. Behind him, the Dean glowered; why should Fielding get all the action when _he_ was the Dean?

**********

Barb Fielding blew her whistle, annoying Randy yet again. "Come on," the coach barked in a commanding voice, "get moving here! We're almost out of time!"

Terri frowned at the coach, and then scurried out of the way, replaced almost instantly by another girl. As the girls primped and preened themselves, getting ready for the photos, Randy gave Anya a nudge. "You didn't have to make the coach such a bitch," he whispered.

Anya grinned. "I didn't. It's his personality with a woman coach's memories and body." Coach Fielding was, if anything, more attractive than any of the girls, but in a much different sense. She didn't have the big boobs of a stripper, or the hourglass figure of a movie starlet; instead, she had a power and grace of a well-toned athlete. Her hair was short, in a low-maintenance and sassy style, so it wouldn't interfere with any sporting activities. Tall, at almost six feet, her tanned skin betrayed not a ripple of fat.

"Well, she's a _lot_ better looking, but her personality could have used some improvement." Randy turned back to the models. His experience took over, and he began to issue directives to the model — turn this way, swing your head that way, flare your hair, pout, smile, look toward the water longingly, and on and on went his commands as he snapped picture after picture of the girls.

"Melanie! Get your ass ready!" Coach Fielding called angrily.

Mel practically leaped from the bench; the other girls around her smiled. "Back in a bit," she sang to her compatriots as she scampered toward the coach.

Randy smiled as Mel stepped in front of the camera, but she glared back at him. His smile froze as he narrowed his eyes and hoisted his camera. "Okay, now turn. No, a little more. More."

Mel glared at Randy. "Don't be so bossy," she hissed softly.

Randy froze, taken aback by her tone. Of all the girls, Mel _should_ have been the easiest to work with; after all, she knew what Bikini Beach was all about. He glanced at Anya; the puzzled frown on her face made Randy's stomach knot up. He gulped and turned back to the camera. "Can you try to cooperate?" he asked in a softer tone of voice.

After what seemed an eternity, Randy put down his camera. "Okay, coach, that's all at this spot." He smiled at Mel, but she glared back at him. Then, curiously, she thrust out her chest and marched back toward the bench, to where the contestants were chatting happily.

Randy shook his head. "Something's wrong here," he muttered to Anya.

Anya nodded slowly. "Yup."

"I mean, you saw how she acted, right? Like she didn't like me being around or something."

"Uh huh," Anya answered as she started to take down a flash reflector. "And did you see how she stuck out her boobs?"

Randy paused, then nodded. "Like she was jealous of my body or something?"

Anya laughed. "Well, if you and Greg hadn't gone overboard..." She folded up the reflector then tackled its tripod. "You realize that I'm going to have to put up with a boyfriend who looks sexier than me for the rest of the day, don't you?"

Randy laughed aloud. The coach had already herded the girls to the next spot, and he and Anya were racing to catch up. "And I suppose you think it was my idea?"

**********

Randy's eyes were watering, he was laughing so hard. Or rather, she was. For he and Greg still were the gorgeous girls they'd changed into for the photo shoot.

"And then the Dean tried to hit on Coach!" Greg howled. "Right in front of all of us!"

Brandon had to hold his side, he was laughing so hard. The guys were just trying to picture the Dean fawning over the coach, albeit the female coach. "And she turned him down?"

Randy wiped his eyes. "She was pretty cold, too!" he added, still laughing. "All but said she wasn't interested in perverted old men."

Randy's words started Greg laughing anew. "She said she like her men young and with lots of endurance."

Chuck nearly spit out his soda. "So was she, like, going to run off to the Alpha house and get laid or something?" He glanced at Rob and grinned. "That sounds like something the old coach would have done!"

Greg laughed, "That's about what she implied." His eyes were tearing, he'd been laughing so hard. "I asked Anya if she'd, you know, given him a boost. She said it was just Coach's libido in a new package!"

Brandon grinned to Rob. "Too bad you lost the connection to their webcams," he said regretfully.

Rob perked up. "We didn't lose it." A few guys glanced at each other, and then sprang clumsily to their feet and raced toward the rooms and Rob's computer.

Brandon watched them go. "So what else..." He was interrupted when the door opened. "Oh, hi Mel," he called out enthusiastically.

Melanie walked cautiously into the lounge area, glancing around as if monsters waited to grab her. "Hi," she said softly. "Vicky said you wanted to see me?"

Brandon's face lit up. "Yeah! We're having a party tomorrow night. We want you to be there."

Mel looked nervous. "Uh, not tomorrow night," she said quickly. Too quickly, she realized belatedly. She looked down at the floor, shuffling her feet as she stammered, "there's a faculty reception tomorrow night, and I have to go."

Randy glanced at Brandon, his features clouded, then he looked back at Melanie. "Well, I guess you have to go to that," he said, trying to sound sympathetic and not judgmental.

"Yeah," Mel echoed. Then she stiffened when she saw Randy and Greg, still in their sexy female bodies. Mel's jaw visibly tightened, and she straightened up, thrusting her chest out a bit. "Look," she said, turning away from Randy and back toward Brandon, "I've got to get back to the dorms. I've got to help Vicky study for a test tomorrow." She turned stiffly and strode quickly out of the lounge, her gait far more graceful and feminine than the guys expected. Nor had they noticed; they were all stunned by the manner in which she'd left, and especially her attitude toward Randy.

**********

Meet-the-media was going well, or at least to Mel. She was clearly having a good time, laughing and chatting with the reporters and photographers, and sharing jokes with the other contestants.

To Brandon and Chuck, on the other hand, the event was a total bust. They felt like intruders, surrounded as they were by the 'in crowd'. As Mel's sponsors for the contest, their presence was required, but it seemed that everyone resented the presence of the nerds. They sampled the hors d'oeuvres — when they could get a waiter to actually pass near them — and sipped their punch, but no one really seemed to want to talk to them.

Mel, on the other hand, had no problem attracting attention. She seemed to be enjoying it whenever a photographer corralled her for a picture, or when a reporter shoved a recorder in her face. She happily talked and laughed with some of the other fraternity sponsors, including the Alphas. And the one time that Brandon had a chance to talk to Mel, he tried to confront her, to see what was going on. Her words left him and Chuck chilled; she dismissed their concerns as jealousy of the attention she was getting. After all, this was just a part of the pageant, and she had to act her part.

**********

"Come on," Mel said pleadingly, "let's go!" She stood in the doorway to her room, her sweater tied around her shoulders and a purse draped over her shoulder.

Vicky glanced up from her book. "I've got to study," she protested again.

Mel frowned. "Come on," she cajoled. "You've got that stuff down cold. Now let's go."

Vicky stared at the book for a few seconds, then she flipped it shut. "Okay," she relented. She grabbed her purse and sweater and followed Mel. Mel had borrowed Chuck's car, and they climbed in and drove quickly.

"We're going to...the mall?" Vicky's voice had an edge, like she was nervous.

Mel didn't notice Vicky's unease. "Yeah," she answered with a grin. "I need to get a couple of new outfits."

The entire time in the mall, Vicky seemed nervous. Mel, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying herself. The 'couple' of outfits turned into two new dresses, a skirt, a couple of tops, and a side trip to Victoria's Secret. And almost five hours time.

As they drove back, Vicky finally turned to Mel. "What's going on?" Vicky asked simply.

Mel glanced at her roommate. "What?" she said, wrinkling her brow in confusion. She turned her attention back to driving and pulled into a parking spot. "What are you talking about?" she asked as she shut off the car.

Vicky frowned. "The whole thing," she said. "Aren't you going a bit overboard?"

Mel glanced at Vicky and laughed. "I figured, 'what the hell?' I mean, most guys never get this chance, so why not enjoy it?" She opened the back door and retrieved her bags, then kicked the door shut with her foot and began trudging toward their room.

When they got back to the room, Vicky tried to study, but she was distracted by Mel's primping. Curiosity, or concern, finally got the better of her. "Okay, what gives? Are you okay?"

Mel set down the bottle of nail enamel she'd picked up, then turned her chair toward Vicky. "Yeah, I'm fine!" she protested. "Why is everyone asking me that?" She turned away, pouting, upset by the implication that she _wasn't_ okay. Then she turned back, her eyes widening with recognition. "You're jealous," she accused softly. "You're jealous that I'm in the pageant."

Vicky felt her jaw tense, while at the same time she fought the impulse to laugh at Mel's ridiculous accusation. "Jealous?" she finally sputtered. "Jealous? Of you? Of that stupid.....pageant?" She couldn't keep the anger or scorn out of her voice. "You're full of shit if you think I'm jealous!" She turned angrily back to her books, her face red and her jaw clenched in fury.

Mel sat silently, wondering what she'd said. After a long few seconds, she spoke again, much more softly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just don't understand." She set down the bottle of nail polish. "Like this afternoon. I thought you were jealous of me getting new outfits for the pageant."

Vicky took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry, too, Mel." She turned slowly to face her roomie. "It's not your fault. I guess...I just don't like shopping very much."

"At the mall?"

Vicky started, then her eyes softened and she nodded slowly. "Yeah, I haven't really like that place since...." Her voice faded to a bare whisper.

Mel sensed that Vicky had some personal demon haunting her. "And you don't like beauty pageants very much, either, do you?" She saw Vicky's shoulders stiffen, and knew she'd hit the truth. "I don't get it," Mel said softly. "You're pretty. You should be a shoe-in to be sponsored for the pageant." Mel frowned. "You're a natural."

Vicky reached up and wiped a tear. "Thanks," she said quietly. "But I wasn't always...." She looked down at the floor, as if ashamed of what she was saying. "A couple of years ago, when I was a senior in high school, a friend and I decided to pull a prank. The girls always had a beauty pageant, kind of a clique thing. And we decided to enter, to dress in drag." She sighed heavily, and wiped tears from both cheeks. "I found a little shop in the mall that had some costumes and such, and I thought they'd be perfect for the gag." Vicky took a tissue and wiped her eyes again. "It was a magic shop. Spells something-or-other. The costume worked, only a little too well. I didn't win the contest, but I've been stuck like this since."

Mel's eyes were wide. "You were...?"

Vicky dabbed her eyes again. "I was a guy. Until I went into that damned shop! And all because of a stupid pageant!" It seemed that she was torn between lashing out in her anger and breaking down in tears.

"I'm sorry," Mel said softly. "I didn't know."

"Well, that wasn't the worst of it," Vicky finally added, breaking the awkward silence. "Jim got it worse. He's a...bimbo!" She was fighting back the tears. "I think it was something in the wig, because when he put it on, he turned into a blond airhead. He...she...turned into a sex machine. She's even got a kid now." Vicky turned away from Mel, staring into a blank spot on her desk. "I guess I got lucky; I didn't like the blond wig, so I borrowed one." She wiped her eyes again, then her nose. "But I'm still stuck." Vicky turned back toward Mel. "I got angry, and rebellious. I got in a lot of trouble." She looked down. "I got busted for vandalism."

Mel watched her roomie. "So how did you get a job at Bikini Beach?" she finally asked.

Vicky laughed. "Ironic, isn't it? The place turns guys into girls. Only they were too late to change me, huh?" She laughed bitterly. "A few guys and I broke in one night. You know — to have some midnight fun? Well, we caused some damage to the pumps and stuff, and we have to work off our debt. The guys got it worse, I guess. They're stuck as girls until the debt is paid." She shook her head. "Funny, I thought I was going to get it worst, with my juvenile record and all. But the boss seemed to know what had happened to me. I think she went easy on me because of what I've been through."

The duo sat in awkward silence for a long time. Mel realized that Vicky had said much, much more than she'd intended. "Do you still hate being a girl?" Mel finally asked.

Vicky snapped her gaze up from the floor. Her eyes betrayed an inner sadness that seemed to permeate her very being. "I guess so," she answered half-heartedly. "At least, it's not as bad as it was. Not at first." She laughed again. "I miss football and sports, though." Vicky watched Mel's reaction. Then she returned the question. "What about you? Are you enjoying this? The attention, being popular?"

Mel let her mouth drop open, then she turned away from Vicky so her roomie couldn't see the turmoil in her eyes. No answer came.

**********

Brandon lifted his hand from his knee. He sat in his chair, leaning forward like a hawk over the chessboard, his eyes focused and narrow. He reached gleefully for his rook. With a flourish, he moved it deep toward Bert's side of the board. "Aha!" he cried gleefully. He knew he had Bert in a tough spot.

"Guys?" The interruption came from the doorway. They turned and saw Randy standing in the opening.

"What's up?" Bert asked quickly. This distraction had halted Brandon's excessive gloating.

Randy's frown gave away the fact that he had bad news. "You guys talk to Mel lately?"

"Paul," Robert corrected from his bunk. "It's Paul, remember?"

"Yes," Bert echoed. Then he put his finger on the heart of the matter. "But does Mel remember that she's really Paul?"

Randy nodded. "That's the problem. I think this is going to Paul's head."

Brandon leaned back in his chair, his face wrinkling with concern. "Yeah," he echoed. "I saw her between classes yesterday. She acted like she didn't want to be seen around me."

Randy sighed and slid into an empty chair. "I'm afraid this is getting out of control. I'm afraid Paul is getting to like being Melanie a bit too much."

"She was hanging around the Gamma girls yesterday afternoon," Robert observed. "Stuck-up snobs!" His distaste for the Gamma girls was surpassed only by his dislike for the Alpha fraternity. Both groups were exceedingly snobbish, especially toward the nerds.

Bert looked at the chessboard and tipped his king, acknowledging his defeat. "So what are we going to do?"

Brandon glanced sharply at him, then at Robert and Randy. "I think we need to have a chat with Mel," he said softly.

Brandon and Randy rapped lightly on the door. Though it was open hours in the girls' dorm, they didn't want to give any girl any excuse to complain about them being noisy. The door opened a crack, and Vicky stared out. "Yeah?" she asked simply.

Brandon smiled pleasantly. "Is Mel in? We need to talk to her."

Vicky frowned. "No," she said quickly. "She's...um...at the library."

Randy glanced at Brandon, then back. It was clear that he didn't believe Vicky's little fib. "No, she isn't. I was just over there."

Vicky sighed. "Okay, I really shouldn't lie, should I?" She sighed again. "She's out on a date. With Ron Pike."

Randy's jaw hit the floor only a microsecond before Brandon's. They stood, dumbfounded, for several seconds. Finally, Brandon stammered, "He's a...football player!" The disbelief in his voice was plain for all to hear.

Vicky nodded slowly. "She asked me not to tell you guys," she said softly. Vicky looked directly at Brandon. "Guys, you've got a problem. A big, big problem."

**********

Rob tugged at the collar of his tuxedo for the hundredth time. He hated this thing. But, as Melanie's escort, he was obligated to wear it. He glanced at her again, and a smile overtook him. "You look great," he said. Indeed, he was a master of understatement. She wore a pastel pink gown of satin with an ankle-length skirt. Short puffy sleeves of pink lace hung off her shoulders; with the low neckline, it was as if the fabric had been cut off just above her bosom all the way across. Arrayed down her back were pearl buttons, cinching tight the bodice around her waist and accentuating every curve of her body. Her hair she wore loose, the front sweeping back from each side of the part to behind her ears. Above her right ear she wore a pink plumeria, a fitting tribute to her Polynesian ancestry.

Melanie barely glanced at Rob as she lightly held his crooked arm. "Thank you," she said softly, but still with a cool tone that carried clearly to Rob. She was letting him know that, even though he was her official escort, she wasn't thrilled at being with him.

The pair walked slowly through the ballroom, up the stairs to where the Holiday Queen candidates were being introduced. Rob cringed at the looks of contempt he was getting from the crowd; most of the people at the ball were fraternity types with their steady dates. He spied Ralph, and gave him a quick smile. So at least one of the guys had gotten a date.

"And our final candidate, representing the Nu Rho Delta house, is Miss Melanie Keilani Lewis."

Mel and Rob strode onto the stage, into the bright lights. Rob was clearly out of his element; he was perspiring and feeling very nervous. Mel, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying herself. She smiled at the crowd hidden behind the klieg lights. They paused center stage, and Mel smiled some more. Then she gracefully turned and let Rob escort her to the line of couples.

"We will now have the traditional dance, and then we will begin the coronation ceremonies."

The lights clicked off, leaving Rob temporarily blinded as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the ballroom. In one corner, a swing band began to play. Rob smiled; it was a slow number, so he should be able to stumble his way through that.

"Do you think you can dance without tripping me?" Mel asked icily as they walked off the stage with the other couples.

Rob frowned. "Yes, I think so." He clenched his jaw. Mel's behavior had been getting steadily worse. At the afternoon's games, she hadn't talked to any of the guys, preferring instead to be with the Gamma girls and flirting with the Alphas. Cool toward the nerds was understating her attitude. Snobbish was more like it.

Rob led Melanie onto the dance floor. They began to dance, and Melanie relaxed a bit when she realized that Rob wasn't going to mash her feet. But the moment the music ended, Mel backed away from Rob, anxious to end the dance.

Rob smiled from the floor as they announced the five finalists. As expected, Melanie easily made the first cut. So had Jill, and Rob winced as he saw Melanie give Tiffany a tiny, furtive little glance of dislike. She really wanted to beat Tiffany, he gathered. That matched what Vicky had told him.

He glanced to his side and saw Brandon; for this part of the ceremony, dates weren't absolutely required, and Brandon had decided to attend — with Chuck, Bert, and half the other guys. After all, they had sponsored Melanie; they wanted to see her do well - even if she was really Paul.

The guys held their collective breath while they announced the runners up. Fourth. Third. Second. And Melanie was still in the contest. It was now a two-way race between Tiffany Bell and Melanie.

"Oh, shit!" Robert's soft oath got the guys' attention.

"What?" Brandon whispered.

Robert held up his smartphone. A web page was displayed, and Brandon followed Robert's point. "That."

'That' was a new schedule of activities for the Holiday Queen. During the spring semester. "Oh, shit!" Brandon echoed Rob's sentiments. "How did we miss that?" He shook his head again. "Does she know?"

Rob shook his head. "I didn't even know until just this minute. This is a new schedule — in the last week." His voice was hushed and strained. "I knew they used to ask the queen to these, but the winner usually turned them down. Which means..."

Brandon nodded grimly. "...when the contestants agreed to this schedule, Mel wasn't aware of what it meant."

The loudspeaker interrupted Brandon. "And the first runner up is..." The emcee, with great flourish and drama, opened the envelope, adding to the suspense, "Tiffany Bell, ...which means the new Holiday Queen is Melanie Lewis!"

Melanie's hands rose to her open mouth, a totally feminine gesture of surprise and delight. She looked like she was about to cry from happiness. Tiffany gave her a quick congratulatory hug, and then the emcee handed her a huge bouquet. Next came the tiara from the previous queen. And the guys watching her shook their heads sadly.

The dance was as miserable for Rob as any he'd ever been to. First was another mandatory dance with her escort, and this time, they were alone on the dance floor. He had the feeling that Melanie really didn't want to be there, at least not with him.

When that dance ended, everyone started dancing. Melanie was the center of attention. She was dancing happily on the floor, but not with any of the nerds. It was the 'in crowd'. Rob stood on the side of the ballroom, watching sadly as Melanie danced her heart away. The rest of the nerds had already gone; without dates, there was no reason for them to stay. His eyes betrayed a melancholy, an inner sadness that belied the joy of the day for Melanie. Finally, Rob shuffled slowly out of the ballroom, his exit noticed by none and his absence missed by no one. His head hung as he walked across the campus, toward the nerd frat house.

"Wait up!"

Rob halted mid-stride and spun his head. He saw a figure — a female figure — trotting to catch up. As she drew nearer, he recognized Vicky. "Hi," he said simply.

"I figured you wouldn't wait around the dance," she observed.

Rob lowered his gaze. "No point."

Vicky nodded, then took his arm, surprising him. "So how'd she do?"

Rob sighed. "She won."

Vicky closed her eyes tightly for a moment. "That's what I was afraid of." She glanced up at Rob as they walked. "So aren't you supposed to be dancing with her or something?"

Rob shook his head sadly. "Not if she doesn't want to." They walked in silence for a few more steps.

"She's changed, you know."

Rob nodded. "Yup." A few more steps in silence. "You know she's got to stay like that through next semester."

Vicky nearly tripped. "What?" she asked, incredulous. "It was only supposed to be for a couple of weeks, till the end of the semester."

Rob grimaced. "They changed the appearance schedule, and the contestants had to agree to it. It goes through next semester."

"So what are you going to do?"

Rob shook his head. "I don't know," he answered softly.

**********

Melanie started when she saw Rob and Brandon standing next to the ticket booth. She halted and glared at Vicky. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Vicky took Mel's arm. "Something we need to do," she answered cryptically. They walked the remaining steps to the booth.

"Hi, Mel," Brandon said, his faux enthusiasm failing to hide the sadness in his voice.

"How are things?" Rob asked, equally unconvincing. "We haven't seen you around for a while."

Melanie shrugged. "It's been busy," she said in a neutral tone. "I can't complain."

Brandon nodded. "I hear the Gammas asked you to pledge."

Melanie looked impassively at him. "Yes, they did."

Vicky interrupted the awkward conversation. "I think she's waiting for us." She nodded toward the low gray building, the offices of Bikini Beach.

'She' turned out to be Anya, and she was indeed waiting. Vicky sat first, followed by Melanie, who demurely crossed her legs and sat upright, in a very graceful pose. Brandon and Rob slumped into their chairs, their bodies seemingly as weighed down as their minds.

"Where's the boss?" Vicky asked Anya.

Anya smiled. "She's at a trade show in Orlando through tomorrow. She said I could handle this one, anyway, so she might as well go have some fun." She turned to the boys. "So," Anya began softly, "things got a bit...messy?"

Vicky glanced at Rob and Brandon, who slowly nodded. "They changed the appearance and event schedule for the winner," Brandon finally admitted. "Mel has to stay a girl through the spring semester."

Anya glanced warily at Melanie, who she knew was hearing this news for the first time. She thought she saw something flicker across Melanie's features. "I take it that's not a problem for you, Mel?"

Melanie's jaw dropped open and her eyes widened. She stared at Anya for a few moments, and then she composed herself. "No," she admitted, her gaze averted.

"In fact," Anya continued, her voice even and emotionless, "you _want_ this, don’t' you?" Melanie, still staring down, nodded feebly. "You want to tell these guys what's going on?"

Melanie looked up at Anya, and Anya saw that Mel was starting to cry. "I guess so," Mel answered. She turned toward the guys. "I...I like this," she began softly. "It's easier for me." Tears were welling up in the corners of her eyes. "All my life, I've been a wimp, a sissy-boy. Even to my dad. Especially to my dad."

Anya watched impassively; she already knew, but the guys had to hear this.

Mel wiped the tears away, a futile gesture as more replaced them. "He wanted a son who loved football. I never got his approval because I didn't like sports. Dad once told mom, when I wasn't supposed to hear, that he wished I'd have been either a proper little girl or a tough little guy. Not the in-between wimp I was." She wiped more tears. "All my life, I've been laughed at, pushed around, and made fun of because I'm a little guy. But since I changed, I...I was popular! No one made fun of me!"

Brandon tried to soothe her. "We've all been there, Mel," he said sympathetically. "All of us have been made fun of...."

Mel shook her head. "You don't understand! I...I can't go back! Not now! Not after what I've been!" She lowered her face in her hands, tears flowing freely as the overwhelming secret she'd carried all these years was revealed.

Vicky pulled Mel close, letting her cry on her shoulder and half-hugging her. Mel's body wracked with her sobbing.

Anya turned back to Rob and Brandon. Rob's mouth hung agape, and Brandon's lips were pursed grimly together. "Well?"

Brandon looked down at the floor. "We'll...see what we can do. We'll get her a permanent pass."

Mel's head lifted slowly, her eyes wide. "You...you guys would do that? For me?" Tears flowed again. "And after the way I've acted toward you?"

Rob nodded slowly. "I guess...we owe it to you. I mean, we started this whole thing, didn't we?"

Mel blew her nose on a tissue Vicky had provided. "Now I feel terrible," she said through her tears. "I was pretty rotten to you guys, wasn't I?"

Rob shook his head. "Nah," he said, trying to dismiss it.

Anya cut him off. "Yes," she said sternly, "you were. Just remember this. Your friends are willing to do this for you — even after you treated them so poorly. Ask yourself how many of the Gamma girls would do what these guys are doing." Her voice softened, losing its stern edge. "Remember who your true friends are."

Vicky glanced at Anya, and Anya felt her concern. "This is going to be a mess," Vicky said, biting her lower lip. "You kind of made up Mel's whole past without changing Paul's."

Mel turned sharply toward Anya. "I was adopted as a baby," she said quickly. "Can't you change...make me my parent's daughter? Like they adopted a girl instead of...."

Anya nodded and then spoke. "Paul is going to cease to exist. Is that what you want?"

Mel glanced at Brandon and Rob, then back to Anya. "Yes," she answered firmly. "That's what I want."

**********

Vicky took a sip of her soda. She stretched out in the chair, enjoying the peace and quiet of the office. "What happened, Anya?" she asked quietly.

Anya shook her head. "Melanie was seduced by being popular. She forgot her values."

Vicky shook her head. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?"

Anya smiled and laughed. "There are some advantages to this job. Sometimes." She shook her head. "Kind of ironic, isn't it?"

"What?" Vicky's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Paul didn't want to change, and ended up wanting to stay. Just goes to show that you never know how things can turn out." She glanced at her watch. "Aren't you supposed to be working the gift shop?" she asked, snapping the focus back to her business.

Vicky started, leaping to her feet and nearly spilling her soda. "Oh, damn! I wasn't watching the time."

Anya grinned. "No harm done. It's pretty slow right now, but we're about to get a busload of visitors. Better get over there. It could get real interesting."

Vicky smiled, then strode lightly toward the door, toward her responsibilities. As the door was closing, Anya spoke again. "Oh, Vicky?" Vicky stopped, poking her head back into the office. "I haven't been able to make any progress on that spell."

Vicky cocked her head for a second, then she understood Anya's meaning. A smile crept over her features. "No hurry." Her smile broadened as she saw Anya's jaw drop. "I think I learned a little something from Melanie, too. Maybe I need to quit being so angry, and just accept what I can't change." She turned, and whistling to herself, strode out of the office.

As the door closed, Anya sat for a moment, looking totally surprised. Then, as she turned her attention back to the computer, a wry grin crept across her face.

FIN

A man who's having an affair would love to leave his wife for his best friend and love. The problem is that the wife has the power to ruin him if he tries. He needs help — magic help of the kind that Bikini Beach specializes in. But the results aren't quite what he was thinking.

This is an all-new Bikini Beach tale which grew out of an e-mail conversation I had with Ellie. Thanks to ib12us and Sir Lee for their suggestions and help editing, especially in improving the ending.

---

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

The flickering TV provided almost all of the illumination in the otherwise-darkened room. On the floor, a girl of about nine or ten lay asleep on a sleeping bag. Behind her, on the sofa, a man sat with his arm around a woman, who was resting her head on the man's shoulder.

Tyler Lofton sighed as he glanced at the clock. "It's late," he said. "I need to get home."

"I wish you didn't have to go," Julia Richards sighed.

"So do I," Tyler echoed. "But you know _she's_ waiting."

Julia turned, lifting her finger to put across Tyler's mouth. "Shh," she chided softly. "Please don't talk about _her_!"

"Sorry," Tyler quickly said. "I had a great day today." He changed the subject. "I think Tracy did, too."

Julia let her head rest on Tyler's shoulder again. "I know she did. She loves having you around. You're like ..."

"A father?" Tyler asked hopefully.

Julia laughed, a soft, mellifluous sound. "No, more like ... a very good friend. I love the way you treat her like she's your second-best friend. So does she."

"And who's my _best_ friend, then?" Tyler asked.

In response, Julia lifted her lips and kissed him. "That would be me."

Tyler squirmed, and Julia knew that their evening together was coming to an end. She stood with him, and, clinging tightly to his arm, walked with him to the door of her apartment. Before he could open the door, she lifted herself on her toes and kissed him again, this time longer and with more passion.

"I wish we had more time to ... you know," Tyler suggested as he gazed at Julia.

Near the door, a light was on, so that her loveliness could be better seen and appreciated. She was a pretty woman; five foot eight made her a little taller than average, but she was slender. Tyler knew that was a result of being a struggling single mom with an extremely hectic schedule. She usually wore her wavy, long, brown hair swept back over her ears and hanging free in the back. While she would never be described as a model, she was pretty in a refreshingly simple way. Even without makeup, she was attractive with her pert nose, her sparkling green eyes, and her sensuous lips.

Julia smiled, and even her simple smile was warm and beautiful. "It's kind of difficult to find time for just the two of us with Tracy around," she answered. Her smile broadened. "Even when we don't have any physical intimacy, though, I love the emotional intimacy we share whenever we're together."

"So do I," Tyler answered. In contrast to her simple beauty, Tyler seemed rather ordinary. Average height and average looks made him tend to blend in to a crowd rather than stand out. He kept his light brown hair short and neatly trimmed, and his hazel eyes sparkled when he looked at Julia. Clean shaven, he had a rugged jawline that made him seem like a throwback to the days when men rode to the rescue, like cavalry. He kept himself fit with much exercise, including swimming — a luxury his situation permitted him, and he always seemed to be dressed in business-casual attire, such as the Dockers and knit polo shirt he was wearing. The contrast came on his left hand — his finger was encircled by a gold band, where Julia's hand was plain.

Tyler permitted himself to kiss Julia one more time. He knew that if he didn't force himself to walk out the door, he'd stay, and then there would be hell to pay when he got home. But she'd be worth it, he thought, even as he turned down the hall toward the stairwell of the apartment building.

Tyler looked out of place as he walked out of the apartment building. He appeared — and was — upper-middle class, but the apartment building was clearly for people of far less means. The contrast was striking enough that any outside observer would think that, leaving this late at night, he had been visiting a mistress. Indeed, he had been. Tyler had known Julia from his office for over twelve years, during which time he'd been unhappily married, and she'd stayed single, passing by several suitors as she waited for him.

He climbed into his Lexus and started the engine. Every yard he drove closer to his home seemed like agony, both because he was getting further from his best friend and lover, Julia, and because he was nearing _her_. He wondered how he'd ended up in this messy situation, even as he knew the answer. All his life, he'd needed to find some sense of belonging and security. He had succeeded, but the cost had been high.

He'd lost his mother when he was four, and was raised by his blue-collar, sometimes-employed dad. Though his dad didn't drink, unlike many fathers in the neighborhood, he was a strict disciplinarian, and any infraction, no matter how minor, resulted in a belting. There was no love; only tolerance. Beyond doing his chores and getting passing grades, his dad didn't seem to care what Tyler did. It was an unspoken expectation that Tyler would follow his dad into blue-collar work as a longshoreman. Tyler's older brother bullied him constantly, and his dad never intervened, explaining that Tyler needed to 'toughen up'. As an act of rebellion against his dad, Tyler began to follow a tough crowd, and that often got him into serious fights, and into trouble with the law.

As another act of defiance, Tyler pushed hard to get into college, to escape the type of life his dad lived. He'd barely been admitted, and because of a double load of classes and a full-time job to pay for his schooling, he wasn't a stellar student by any means. He knew that his future prospects weren't exactly bright. There, he'd met Olivia Carston, the girl who would become his wife. When he first saw her, he knew she was from a well-to-do family; even casually about campus, she wore designer clothes and expensive jewelry, and she carried herself with an air of sophistication and dignity that spoke of an upper-crust upbringing. She was pretty, in a reserved, formal way. A little taller than average, she kept herself trim and fit with her personal trainer and time in the gym. When in public, she wore her long blonde hair in a bun or other very conservative style, letting it down only in private. Tyler saw her as an opportunity to escape his poorer roots, to climb up to a better life.

It didn't take long to catch Olivia's eye; early in his life he had developed a talent for schmoozing. Before long, they were dating, and then, just after they'd both graduated, she encouraged him to propose to her. After their wedding, Tyler started working as a mid-level manager in one of her family's companies. In his first week with the firm after their honeymoon, he'd overheard some managers in a break room discussing a deal they were trying to make. Perhaps because of his upbringing, he had an uncanny knack for reading situations and people, and understanding what they wanted and needed, and how to win them over. In addition, he was vocal with his opinions. His suggestions were rudely discounted, but when the negotiations went sour, one of the managers remembered what Tyler had suggested. He was given a role in the next set of contract negotiations, where his street-smarts proved their worth, and the company benefited greatly.

As a result, he got a promotion and a fancy office. From then on, his role was negotiating with suppliers, vendors, and subcontractors for all of the Carston companies, and he earned a reputation for always getting a great deal, while keeping everyone happy. He also had the luxury of setting his own work schedule, since he was 'family' and the chief negotiator. Tyler thought he'd made it, and that now, life would be good.

He'd figured that after they settled down, he and Olivia would have children, and that they'd be happy. It was then that her true nature became apparent. She didn't want any children, making her view on the subject very clear, and letting him know, for the first of countless times, that she was boss, and he was nothing without her. It was her way, or she'd ruin him. It hadn't been a direct threat then, and it still wasn't, but the implication was clear: she had the money and power and resources to utterly destroy his life if he didn't toe her line. It also became apparent that she had an acid tongue and she was controlling and vindictive in an almost petty way. Tyler thought bitterly that she could have easily been the inspiration for Shakespeare's "Taming of the Shrew." It took its toll on Tyler — he started feeling angry at everything, and it showed. Olivia, with her temper and demanding attitude, had slowly broken his spirit. Years of her abuse and unspoken threats slowly made him subservient to her. He lost the edge and independence he'd learned as a tough youth.

Tyler hadn't learned to love; only to survive. Even after marrying Olivia, there was no love. For him, it was a ticket out, an escape, a way to make contacts and move up, so that he'd never raise children in the manner he'd grown up. Love was a foreign concept.

That all changed when he met Julia. She was working as a temp in one of the Carston family businesses, and Tyler was doing his usual job of negotiating. He had bumped into Julia, as she was scurrying with a stack of copies to one of the manager's offices. His coffee had splashed over both of them, and over her precious copies. She had been horror-stricken, both by getting hot coffee on Tyler, and on messing up her paperwork. Naturally, he was angry, and he started to say something petty and mean, but then he saw her eyes. He saw warmth, and kindness, and sincerity which he'd never seen before. The verbal lashing he intended to deliver died in his throat; instead, he found himself apologizing for having gotten in her way. Since she had no time to redo the copies, Tyler had walked with her to the manager's office, and explained that he'd accidentally spilled coffee on her copies, and that it wasn't her fault.

It took no time for a romance to develop. Julia gave love that Tyler had never known. In return, he found a growing ability to be trusting and loving. Once Olivia suspected the affair, she made sure that Julia was fired. Tyler used his contacts to get her a job, despite Olivia's spitefully negative personnel appraisal. When he could, he used some of his "allowance" from Olivia to help Julia out financially.

Tyler thought of Tracy, Julia's charming daughter. He was certain that she was his daughter, even though she'd never told him, nor even suggested it. She was as cute as her mother was pretty, and had the same enchanting brown eyes and innocent look. Tracy was a smart girl, too — she usually got all A's at school. And most importantly, she treated Tyler like he was her dad, even though she'd never been told the truth.

Tyler pulled his car into the garage, parking his Lexus next to her car. He hadn't noticed any lights on as he came up the driveway, so he hoped that she was already in bed. Slowly, silently, he opened the door and crept into the house.

The light came on with a blinding suddenness, startling him.

"You're late," Olivia chided him sternly.

"I didn't want to wake you," Tyler replied automatically.

Olivia drew herself up out of her chair and walked over to him. "I suppose you were with _her_ again, tonight?" She stood in front of him, blocking his path into the house. "How is she, these days? Still trying to enjoy her miserable, poor life?"

Tyler wanted to stand up to Olivia, but he knew that she held all the power. He said nothing, but his nostrils flared with his anger at her accusation and petty delight in Julia's situation.

Olivia noticed his reaction. "Tell me," she continued in a wicked voice, "did the two of you have ... fun tonight, or did that bratty daughter of hers interfere with your passion?"

"For your information," Tyler said through clenched teeth, "Tracy is a wonderful little girl, and spending time with a ... friend doesn't necessarily have to end in sex."

"Good." She was taking delight in tormenting him over his evening. "That means you've got something for me."

"You know," Tyler observed, trying but failing to sound impassionate, "you've completely spoiled the mood. Men ... don't perform on demand."

Olivia sneered at him. "We'll see. You could always take one of your little pills, couldn't you? I doubt you'd be able to resist me, then. You _will_ try to please me, too, won't you?" She turned and strutted toward the bedroom, one of her long, sexy legs showing through the slit in the side of her nightie. "It's time for bed." It sounded less like a suggestion than a demand, and she knew that he'd comply. He always did.

**********

"Where?" Tyler was astonished by Julia's suggestion.

"The water park south of the mall," Julia repeated. "You know the one — Bikini Beach."

Tyler sighed. "I was hoping for a more relaxing day. Something more conventional, like maybe a picnic, or a movie."

"Tracy wants to go to the water park, and I've been promising her for a while. You don't want to disappoint her, do you?" She nibbled on his ear. "Besides, we'll have the rest of the evening, and if Tracy gets tired from too much excitement ...."

A smile crept over Tyler's face. "Well, we can't disappoint Tracy, now, can we?"

Twenty minutes later, Tyler pulled into a parking spot at the park. "Unusual that they have such a tall fence, don't you think?"

Julia shrugged. "Maybe. But I've heard wonderful things about the park."

"Okay." Tyler glanced in the back seat. "Ready for some fun, Tracy?"

Tracy grinned. "Yeah," she said enthusiastically. If she'd tried her best, she wouldn't have been able to contain her excitement.

As they walked across the parking lot, swim gear tucked under their arms, Julia wrapped her arm around Tyler's, drawing him closer. He smiled at her. This was going to be a pleasant day, he decided. Then he noticed something that seemed odd. "I don't see any other men going in," he said, his voice cautious. "You don't suppose that this is a ladies-only place, do you?" If it was, then the day would be ruined, and Tracy would be very disappointed.

Julia frowned, but then she spotted a couple of college guys at the ticket window. "There are a couple of boys in line," she answered. "I swear, you're too suspicious."

Tyler chuckled. "Yeah, but do you see all the women going in? Are you sure you want me in a park, in my swimsuit, surrounded by all these attractive women?"

Julia punched him lightly in the arm. "I know you won't be looking at anyone but me," she said playfully. "Besides, I thought your tomcatting days were long over."

"You know me too well."

As he waited in line for the window, Tyler noticed another odd fact — most of the patrons were bypassing the booth and using some type of pass-card to enter. He failed to notice that the person in front of him had moved.

"Yes, Mister Lofton," a dark-haired girl behind the glass said, regaining his attention, "this is a membership-only private park, so not many of our patrons need to buy passes."

"What?" Tyler frowned. "Uh, how ...?" He was puzzled that the girl had seemingly read his mind. She had _certainly_ called him by name, which he hadn't given her. It added to the puzzle of the park. For all his life, Tyler had had a sense of things feeling wrong. That feeling was back, in spades. Despite that, though, he suppressed his wariness; after all, the day was for time with Julia and Tracy.

"I get that question a lot," she answered enigmatically. "So I've learned to recognize when people are wondering." She glanced at Julia and Tracy. "Since we're a private park, we sell only a limited number of passes. You're early enough that we haven't sold out of those, and besides, this is a slow day."

Tyler's eyes widened. From the traffic he'd seen, the park was quite busy. "This is a _slow_ day?"

"Relatively. I'm Anya. My grandmother and I run the park. I take it you want three passes for the day? Two adults and one junior?"

"Oh, yes, that's right." Tyler was getting quite distracted by all the little things that seemed out of place or unusual. He dug out his wallet and paid for the passes.

"Remember to shower before you leave the locker rooms," Anya reminded him. "It's a health department regulation. And have a fun day."

Tyler smiled. "We will." He took the passes and stepped away from the window. After passing through the entrance, he went to the men's locker on the right, while Julia and Tracy went to the women's locker on the left.

Perhaps it was from his upbringing, in a rough part of town, and from a relatively poor family, but Tyler couldn't help but be suspicious. For a very busy park, as the girl at the window had described, the men's locker was very small. He filed that fact away to think of later — maybe, and tossed his gear on a bench. He took off his clothes, placing them in an empty locker, and pulled on his swim trunks. To be certain that he didn't lose the key, he fastened it inside the tiny pocket of the swimsuit with a safety pin.

Tyler stepped toward the door, where he saw a large mirror. He posed, admiring his physique. While he wasn't twenty any longer, he still was in much better shape than most of his contemporaries. He had no belly fat, and his muscles were well toned without being exaggerated. There were still the scars, though, on his chest, from his high-school days. Tyler wore them proudly, as a badge of honor, for having survived his very turbulent, rough childhood and escaped the poverty trap. One had nearly killed him — if the blade had been millimeters down, it wouldn't have deflected off his rib, but would have slid between them and pierced his heart.

Tyler tore his thoughts away from reminiscing about the past, and focused on the present. The girl had said that he needed to shower, so he walked to one of the shower stalls. He twisted the knob, and then stepped in, having steeled himself for a blast of cold water. Instead, it was pleasantly warm, and invigorating.

After a few moments in the shower, longer than he'd intended due to the relaxing effect of the shower, he stepped out, turned off the handle, and started toward the exit door. Something seemed odd to him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Something wet was dancing around his shoulders in an unexpected way, and it seemed like hair was flitting into and out of his peripheral vision. The feel of walking was different, too.

As soon as Tyler came around the corner to the exit, he instinctively flinched and averted his eyes at the topless woman in front of him. It only took a few milliseconds, though, for him to know that something was very wrong. Only moments before, he'd been flexing and posing in front of a mirror. That meant — he flinched at the thought — that the shower or something in this room was magic, and that _he_ was the woman in the mirror. He looked back, and saw that the woman was mimicking his every move.

Slowly, fearfully, he looked down, and saw what he knew was on his chest — a pair of moderate sized, perky breasts, capped in large dark nipples. Between the breasts, he could see a very flat stomach, and an equally flat groin, covered with a bikini bottom. He gasped in surprise, and even that tiny sound was softer than what he'd expected. Almost automatically, his hands reached up and cupped his breasts, and his hands and breasts confirmed that what his eyes saw really had happened. He was a woman. Somehow, impossibly, he'd been changed into a woman.

Years of dealing with the unexpected as he grew up served Tyler well. He fought the instinct to panic, and assessed the situation. The woman in the mirror — himself — was of average build, and moderately attractive. She was well-toned, just like Tyler had been, and had little excess fat. Her brown hair was short, and, being wet, it was hard to say how it was styled, but Tyler suspected, from the cut, that it was a bob with the front feathered a bit. Her face was Tyler's face, but feminized, a face that he would have had if a different sperm had won the race. She didn't have super-model looks, but she was far from unattractive. A bit above average, Tyler decided.

A knock sounded on the door, and then it opened, letting the bright sunlight stream in as a figure stepped through the door. As if it were an instinct, Tyler lifted his arms to cover his naked breasts, and retreated a half step from the door.

"Don't worry, Tyler," the figure said. Tyler recognized the voice as belonging to the girl from the ticket window. "This park is magic, and yes, it transformed you into a woman."

"Why?" Tyler demanded simply. "Why did you do this to me?"

The girl smiled. "My grandmother built this park as a refuge for women, a place where they could relax and not worry about being ogled and treated as objects."

"That doesn't explain why. Or how? And ..." He didn't want to push the unthinkable question — was this a permanent change?

Anya smiled. "No, it's not permanent. The magic lasts until around midnight of the last day your pass is valid. Since you bought a one-day pass, the magic will wear off about midnight, and you'll change back to your male self."

"Oh," Tyler sounded relieved about changing back. "Magic?" he asked skeptically. "You expect me to believe this was magic?" He started as he realized that she'd apparently read his mind — again.

"Do you have another explanation?" Anya asked with a smile.

"No, I guess not," Tyler admitted softly. The sound coming from his mouth was soft and feminine, and impossible in his ears.

Anya waved one hand, and produced a bikini top. "Before we go any further," she said, "please put this on. Grandmother really dislikes topless sunbathing in her park."

Tyler took the garment as if it were a snake. "How ...?" he started to ask.

"The magic gives you skills to cope as a woman. If you don't think about how, but just about putting it on, you'll find it's natural, like you've been doing it all your life."

Tyler did as directed, and his jaw dropped as he put on the bikini top. "That's ...." he started to say.

"Spooky? Yes, it is — at first. And just so you don't worry, I've already spoken to Julia, and she knows what to expect. You two can have a fun day with Tracy, just like you'd planned."

Tyler couldn't help but glance down at his new body. "Not quite like we'd planned," he said, smiling wryly as he looked back at Anya.

"Mostly, though. You wanted to treat Tracy to a fun day at a water park, and you're willing to sacrifice ... intimacy ... with Julia to do so." She smiled warmly. "It sounds to me like you enjoy the warmth of a caring family more than the sexual aspect of your relationship."

Tyler started at her words. "I ... I guess you're right," he said slowly. "But ... how do you know all this? Unless you're reading my mind."

Anya grinned. "You catch on pretty quickly. Now why don't you go out and have a fun day? Oh, by the way, since you're changed, your female name is Tiffany." She saw the wrinkled nose and brow on Tyler's face. "Yes, I know it can sound a bit bimbo-ish, but it's how the magic worked."

Tyler shrugged. "I guess I'll make the best of it, then, since it's only temporary." He squared his shoulders, flinching at the jiggle on his chest as he did so, took a deep breath, and marched through the door out to the entrance plaza.

After being momentarily blinded by the bright sunlight, he started looking around, and eventually spotted Julia and Tracy sitting at a table waiting. He walked, uneasily, toward them.

Tracy hurled herself at Tyler and wrapped her arms around him in a big hug. "Hi, Aunt Tiff!" she exclaimed with glee. "I'm so glad you could come today! We're going to have lots of fun!"

Tyler uneasily returned the hug. "You know I like spending time with you," he said, "and your mom."

"I want to go on the slides first," Tracy begged. "Can we go on the slides first?" She pointed toward the turquoise Pele's Race on the side of the 'mountain.'

"Sure, honey," Julia said, giving Tyler a wink. "Why don't you run on ahead and we'll be right behind you?"

Squealing with delight, the girl raced down the pathway toward the ride, leaving Julia and Tyler behind.

"You look exactly like I pictured you, after the girl from the booth explained things to me," Julia said with a smile. "I'm almost jealous."

Tyler shook his head, feeling his short hair brushing his shoulders. "You didn't know this would happen?" he asked, amazed.

"No," Julia replied. "Honest to God, I didn't know!"

"It kind of spoils anything this evening after we get back to your place," Tyler observed dispassionately. "Tracy thinks I'm really her Aunt Tiffany?"

"Yup," Julia smiled. "That's what the girl said would happen, since Tracy doesn't know about the magic." She looked at Tyler — looking slightly down to him for the first time ever. "You're not mad, are you?"

Tyler smiled. "Like I said the other day, I love spending time with you as a friend, even when we can't ... you know."

The day went far better than Tyler had imagined it would. The girls had a wonderful time, floating around the "Old Man River", riding some of the milder tube slides that were suitable for Tracy, and sunbathing and swimming in the "Tropical Lagoon". While Tracy swam and floated, Tyler and Julia had time together to talk and share some 'friend time'.

All too soon, the loudspeaker announced that the park was closing. Julia glanced at Tyler, then back at the Junior Lifeguard Academy pool, where Tracy was playing with a couple of girls on the Safety Scramble, a fun course to test agility and balance as kids used the overhead net and fake tortoises in the water to cross the pool. "Tracy," Julia called.

Tracy turned toward her calling mother; as a result, she lost her handhold on the net and fell with a splash into the pool. She came up sputtering. "Aw, Mom," she complained," you made me fall!"

"It's almost closing time, so we need to go."

Tracy looked at the net and tortoises, and the other kids scrambling across the obstacle course, and considered ignoring her mother to try one last time. It was obvious what she was thinking for that brief moment, but she decided not to risk getting in trouble. She turned, and splashed and swam to the edge of the pool. She'd never had many swimming lessons, and it showed. For a brief moment, Tyler wondered if he couldn't do something to help her swim better, so she didn't feel so awkward around girls her own age who were better swimmers.

As they walked back toward the locker rooms, Tyler began to have his doubts about the rest of the day. "Now what?" he asked Julia.

Julia smiled pleasantly. "How about if we get something on the way home, and then we can have a 'girls night' watching a movie?"

Tyler winced. "Can we get something at a drive-thru? Or maybe order a pizza?"

"Afraid to be seen in public like that?" Julia asked with a grin.

Tyler nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, you could say that."

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," Julia chuckled. "We'll order a pizza."

As they came to the locker rooms, Tyler was somehow not surprised to see that the "Men's" sign had magically changed to read, "Women's Locker Room 2". He smiled to himself — that would help cut down on awkward questions from people who didn't know someone had changed. The owner and her granddaughter seemed to have thought of everything.

Inside the locker room, Tyler noted further that all the masculine details were gone, and the room now had makeup mirrors, blow dryers, and other accoutrements typically not found in a men's locker. There were other women present in the room, and many of them turned toward Tyler, their expressions varying from amused to worried. Tyler reasoned that those familiar with the magic found the nervousness of newly-changed men entertaining, while those who were new to the change, such as himself, found the thought of being a woman, changing in a room full of women, to be unsettling.

He steeled himself, squared his shoulders, and stepped directly to his locker. Inside, as he dreaded but somehow knew, he found his clothing was altered. Instead of his polo shirt, he had a pale blue, sleeveless knit blouse with a deep Vee neckline. His ever-present Dockers were tan Capri pants, and his shoes were feminine flats.

Bowing to the inevitable, Tyler slipped out of his bikini, and stepped to an empty shower stall. Inside, he used the floral-scented body wash and shampoo to cleanse the chlorine and dirt from his body and hair. A little voice in his head seemed to be telling him something, and knowing of the magic, he followed that voice, he applied some conditioner and crá¨me rinse to avoid tangles. After a few seconds, he rinsed it out, and then turned off the shower. Without stepping from the shower, he took his towel, which he'd hung on a hook just outside his stall. The voice told him not to scrub his hair with the towel, like he usually did, but to pat it dry. After quickly drying, he wrapped the towel around his wet hair, and walked back to a bench in front of his locker.

Somehow, the sight of a dozen or more naked women in the locker room did nothing for Tyler, even though he knew it should. He suspected, correctly, that the magic had given him female instincts and attractions, and as such, looking at other women was of no interest. That thought also caused Tyler a moment of fear — if his attraction for women had been turned off, did that mean he would have a woman's attraction to men? He was suddenly very grateful that his change would only last until midnight, and that he and Julia were going to her apartment for a movie, and not out clubbing.

Without thinking, Tyler pulled on his panties, then his bra. After he removed the towel from his head, he pulled on his blouse, pulled on the pants, and then slipped into his flats. He rolled his bikini up in his towel, and then took the purse that was in his locker in place of his wallet.

As he started to blow-dry his hair, Tyler suddenly wondered about something. He glanced in his purse, and to his surprise, found no wedding ring. Tyler had always worn his ring, even though it was offensive to Julia, simply out of habit. With the change, though, he apparently wasn't married. That thought caused him to smile as he finished his hair. That was one less thing to have to worry about, and it seemed almost liberating to not be married to Olivia.

Gathering his stuff, he stepped out of the locker room and walked toward the entrance. He didn't see Julia, but he saw the pretty brunette girl, Anya, walking past. "Excuse me," he called to her.

Anya stopped and turned, a very pleasant expression on her face. "Did you enjoy yourself today, Tiffany?" she asked.

"Very much so," Tyler answered. "There's something I don't understand though."

"What's that?" Anya asked.

"When I changed this morning, this," he gestured toward the men's room over his shoulder, "was a men's room. Now, it isn't."

"It helps cut down confusion when people leave," Anya answered, "just like you figured."

"But ... what happens if someone is leaving in the middle of the day, when someone else is coming in?"

Anya laughed. "You're one of the first people to ask that," she chuckled. "It's pretty complicated. It's kind of like a whole bunch of parallel dimensions. Each person or group coming in has a private changing room that's in its own reality space. But once the day ends and men are going out, it's no longer necessary."

Tyler felt his head spin as he tried to comprehend what Anya was telling him. "So ... it's like a Twilight Zone thing? You set it up so men can't bump into women accidentally?"

Anya nodded, still smiling. "That's a simple way to describe it. The magic, though," she said in a hushed voice, "is pretty complicated. Even I don't quite understand how Grandmother did it, yet."

"Tiffany!" Julia called from near the women's locker as soon as she spotted Tyler. She and Tracy started toward him.

"Uh, you said this wears off ... around midnight?"

Anya nodded. "I would suggest you not go home until after the magic wears off. Olivia might not understand, and she'll get even angrier than she normally does."

Tyler's jaw dropped. "You ... know that I'm married?"

Anya nodded. "I can read minds and auras pretty well, but not as well as Grandmother."

"You're not going to say anything, like I'm a slime or something for cheating?" Tyler asked cautiously.

Anya shook her head gently. "It's not my place to judge," she said. "I read your mind, remember? I know _all_ about your marital situation. Besides, if you were some kind of low-life, I wouldn't have sold you a pass in the first place."

"Uh, thanks. I guess."

Anya turned, but then looked back over her shoulder. "Keep an open mind. Problems like yours have a way of working out — if you look for unconventional solutions." She walked off, leaving Tyler standing, puzzling over her meaning.

**********

Tyler paused in the doorway and turned to the bed. "Sleep well, Tracy," he said gently to the girl.

"Thanks for the fun day, Aunt Tiffany," Tracy replied. She sounded tired, but very happy.

"Any time. Now go to sleep, before you get in trouble."

Tyler turned to the living room of the small apartment. He sat down wearily on the sofa next to Julia.

"It's been a long day."

Julia laughed. "You played hard, and you're not used to that body."

Tyler nodded. "You got that right." He looked down at the bulges on his chest again. "I don't know how girls deal with all these ... curves."

"We grew up with them," Julia explained with a grin. "It doesn't seem that unusual — just like you don't seem bothered by all your ... stuff ... in your shorts."

"Okay," Tyler conceded. "I get the point."

"Do you want to watch another movie?"

Tyler sighed. "You want me to suffer through another 'chick flick'?" he asked sarcastically.

"Why not? You _are_ one right now," Julia teased. "And if the magic gave you any female skills and feelings, I'm willing to bet that you liked the first movie."

"No, I didn't," Tyler countered angrily. "I don't have female feelings."

"Then why were you crying when they got together at the end?" Julia asked with a smile. "And don't deny it; both Tracy and I saw it."

Tyler knew it was pointless to argue; he'd been caught. "Okay, so I'm a little more emotional right now. Blame the magic."

"Whatever caused it, I think it's sweet that you show emotions." She paused. "So, now what?"

Tyler glanced up at the clock. It was almost eleven. "I don’t have a lot of time left like this," he said, with a tiny hint of regret in his voice. "And then I have to go."

Julia rose, smiling, and then offered a hand to help Tyler up. "Then I'll brew some tea, and we can sit and visit for a while, okay?"

Tyler nodded. "That sounds ... nice."

As the two sat at the kitchen table, sipping tea, Julia decided to broach the dreaded subject. "What are you going to do about Olivia?" she asked.

Tyler shook his head, his eyes half closed and a sad expression on his face. "I want to leave her," he said, "but you know what she can do to me."

"I know," Julia said, nodding. "But you need to do what _you_ want, and what you need. You know she destroyed your sense of independence, and she's slowly killing your spirit and zest for life. She completely controls you."

Tyler simply nodded; she was speaking the absolute truth.

"She's not really a wife, is she? She's more a bossy ...." Julia didn't want to say the word.

"Bitch." Tyler sighed heavily. "But if I leave, she'll completely ruin me. Her family has that kind of power. She can make sure that I'll never get any kind of meaningful job ever again. She can ruin my credit, my reputation — everything."

"Sometimes," Julia said wistfully, "I feel like I'm your mother, and you're a teenager trying to sort through a tough problem. I can't tell you what to do. All I can do is offer advice." She put her hands on Tyler's atop the table. "I can tell you that if you do leave her, we'll figure out how to work things out. No matter what, we'll somehow figure out how."

"I know," Tyler said.

"She scares you, doesn't she?" Julia asked the obvious.

Tyler's eyes widened in surprise at her question, and then he slowly nodded. "Yeah. I never thought I'd say it, but she _does_ scare me. Her family scares me. I've seen them do things that are ... almost evil. I've seen them lie, cheat, and use people. I've seen them ruin people." He took a deep breath. "I never thought I'd say it, but for the first time in my life, I'm afraid of her and her family."

Tyler suddenly sat upright, his eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, I think it's starting!" He felt a strange tingling in his extremities, and on his scalp. Slowly, the tingling radiated up his arms and legs, and down his head, until his whole body was enveloped in the strange sensation.

"I see it!" Julia exclaimed. She watched as Tyler's hair shortened, while his face slowly morphed and became more masculine, more angular. His hands, atop the table, lost their feminine grace, and turned into his normal rough, scarred hands. His body was changing, too, losing the prominent bumps on his chest as his whole torso swelled outward, becoming more muscular and more masculine. Even his clothes were changing — they flowed like liquid cloth, changing color and shape as they reformed into Tyler's normal attire.

In seconds, it was over. Tyler was back to normal.

"Wow!" Julia exclaimed softly, her eyes wide open in amazement. "That was ... incredible! If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it!"

Tyler smiled. "It's weird to be on the changing side, too."

Sadness slowly crept over Julia's face. "I know you have to go, now."

Tyler nodded. "It's the last thing I _want_ to do, but I have to."

"I know."

Tyler stood slowly, and offered a hand to Julia. They walked slowly to the door, where he swept her into an embrace and kissed her.

**********

Half an hour later, Tyler pulled into his garage. The lights in the house were on, which meant that Olivia was awake, and probably furious. He swallowed hard, not wanting to deal with her and her rage, but knowing it was inevitable.

He walked into the kitchen, half-expecting Olivia to be waiting like a panther to pounce on its prey. She wasn't, though.

"In here," she ordered harshly from the dining room.

Tyler walked in, trying his best to look stern and defiant, but he knew that he'd fail. Olivia would see right through his façade.

"You're late," she chided.

Tyler simply shrugged.

"You were out with _her_ again, weren't you?" she demanded.

"What if I was? What does it matter to you?" His tone was resigned, not defiant.

Olivia's face reddened, and nostrils flared. "It matters to me because people notice! I heard gossip from two different ladies at the country club tonight! Your tawdry little affair is going to ruin my reputation!" she screamed.

Tyler stood, silently taking her abuse.

"It's over! Do you hear me? It's over." Her voice lowered to a menacing, angry tone. "You are _not_ to see that tramp again. You are not to contact her." She glared at Tyler. "And in case you think you can sneak past me this time, all it takes is one little phone call, and I can get our internet records, and your cell phone records."

"You're a first-class bitch," Tyler said in the first angry reply to her in a very long time.

Olivia grinned wickedly. "Yes, I am, aren't I?" She turned angrily and started from the room, but paused and looked over her shoulder, an evil triumphant smile on her face. "And just because you've pissed me off, you can sleep in the guest room — at least until I decide I need your ... companionship." She turned, tossed her head back haughtily, and walked away.

Tyler stood, silently fuming. He knew that Julia was right — he was afraid of Olivia, and she'd destroyed part of him.

**********

Tyler poured a cup of coffee and sat down in the breakfast nook. He felt groggy; he hadn't slept well on the uncomfortable guest bed — like he'd done all week. Olivia was still angry, and using every little thing she could think of to punish him. He sipped the black coffee, hoping the caffeine would help him wake up.

"Are you going in to work today?" Olivia demanded as she stepped into the kitchen. She was wearing a robe over a very sheer negligee, incompletely tied so the front was open, exposing much skin and her creamy breasts. It was as if she was tormenting his remaining sense of manhood, since he'd been exiled to the guest room and had no contact with his mistress.

Tyler shrugged. "Maybe," he answered simply between sips of coffee.

"You _know_ that there's that big contract with our biggest supplier coming due soon. You need to be on your toes to make sure we get the best deal. We can't have you moping around like a love-sick puppy anymore, can we?" She sounded condescending, like she was lecturing a five-year-old.

Tyler managed an angry glare at her. "You've taken every little bit of joy out of my life. What the hell do you expect?"

Olivia acted surprised. "Oh, that's right! I haven't let you play with your mistress and her little brat for the past week and a half! That's why you're so upset." The sarcastic tone was unmistakable. She glared at him. "Except for the two messages from your phone."

Tyler simply glared into his coffee cup as he took another sip.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you really think you could slip that past me?" She had nothing but scorn for his feeble attempts to stay in touch with Julia. "Oh, I know what's wrong!" she exclaimed in a mockingly surprised tone, "I never let you have a chance to say goodbye, did I? That's why you're so sad, isn't it?" She clucked at herself as if she really cared, when Tyler knew she didn't. "Well, I'll tell you what," she said, sounding conciliatory for the first time, "I _do_ have a heart. Since I'm going to be at the trade show for the next week with Daddy, I'll let you have one last week with her."

Tyler frowned. He knew she was up to something. "What's the catch?"

"Catch? Oh, I'm so hurt! You doubt my sincerity?" She feigned surprise, but that was another part of her psychological torture. She reached into the pocket of her robe and extracted a card. "Well, the only catch is that you meet her at that water park you and she took her brat ... daughter to." She took a step and held out the card toward Tyler.

Tyler took the card warily. He was now very certain that there was more to this than she was letting on. As he examined it, he noticed the some information on the card was smudged, but that could have easily been because it had spent time in her purse. The date was for that day, and Olivia was leaving in the afternoon for her business trip.

"Well, aren't you going to thank me?" Olivia asked in a rather demanding tone.

Tyler looked warily at her. "Thank you," he said simply.

"Well then," Olivia sounded suspiciously cheerful, "you'd better call her and let her know that I'm allowing you a last goodbye, and then you can go meet her at the park."

**********

Tyler walked into the shower happily, knowing what to expect, and not caring, because he'd spend the day with Julia and Tracy. Even if the first day was as a woman, he had the rest of the week to be Julia's lover. As he felt the changes, though, he noticed that something seemed odd. Just from how far he had to reach up to the shower knob, he knew he was much smaller. As the other changes happened, he noticed that his chest had not swelled out into full female breasts, but instead, into small cones.

Warily, he stepped toward the door — and the tell-tale mirror. As soon as he spotted himself, he gasped, a faint cry of despair.

He was small — less than five feet tall, and very slender. He also appeared to be no older than eleven or twelve, a little girl instead of the adult woman he'd been before. Tyler started to panic. His — her — hair was the same wavy brown as Julia's, cut shoulder length. She had a cute little nose, slightly upturned, and soft, hazel eyes. His gaze snapped down, to where he saw tiny budding breasts, small, soft bumps on a thin, pre-teen chest. A little girl's chest. He looked into the mirror again. He was thin and a bit gangly — just like any pre-teen girl going through maturation and a growth spurt.

As he stared at the mirror, a sinking feeling in his heart, the door opened. To his horror, Olivia stepped through, grinning wickedly. "Oh, aren't you adorable!" she exclaimed with her usual snide tone.

"What ... did you do?" Tyler asked in a feeble voice.

"You didn't think I'd really let you spend a week playing tomcat with your little mistress, did you?" she sneered.

"You ... said I could spend the week with her," Tyler protested.

"And you will," Olivia crowed. "As her other daughter!"

Tyler's mouth dropped open in confusion. "Other ... daughter?" He suddenly felt worried, and helpless. "How ... did you know? About the park, I mean?"

"I have my ways," Olivia said. "Oh, and by the way, I fudged the expiration date. It doesn't expire today. It expires the day I get back from my trip."

Tyler's eyes widened in horror. "You mean ...?" he stammered, unable to finish the question. He ran back to his locker and pulled out the pass. He wiped at the smudged numbers, and saw that, beneath a little white-out was a _real_ expiration date. His heart sank as he read the date.

"You're stuck as her little brat for the next week!" Olivia said gleefully. She turned and stepped haughtily from the locker room.

Tyler stared after her, with a sinking feeling in his heart. Tears started to trickle from the corners of his eyes as he contemplated just how nasty a trick Olivia had pulled on him. His hatred for her grew, while he wondered what was going to happen now. Did Julia know? How was she going to react?

The door opened again, and an older woman came in, smiling. She was a little overweight, and her hair had a touch of gray. "I know you have a lot of questions, Mr. Lofton, and we'll answer them in a moment." She waved her hand, and produced a bikini top that matched the red bottom Tyler was wearing. "But please put this on first. I don't really like women — or girls — going topless in my park." She extended the top to Tyler.

Having been in the park before, Tyler knew that he'd have some female skills. He took the top, his eyes still teary from Olivia's cruel trick, and tied it on. "What's going on?" he whimpered in a little-girl voice.

The old woman gently took Tyler's arm. "Let's go outside, so when your mother realizes that you're missing, she won't have to wonder, or panic." With Tyler wiping at his tears, the two walked out to the entrance plaza, and the old woman led him to an out-of-the-way table in the corner of the plaza.

"Why? How did she do this?" Tyler cried as they sat down.

The old woman bit her lip. "To be honest, she pulled one over on us." She saw the surprised expression on Tyler's face. "I was tired, and I got careless. Your wife had a third party buy the ticket, and he didn't know anything of her plan. She told her associate that you wanted to spend a week as Julia's daughter, so her deception was a step removed." She shook her head, wincing as she chided herself for her mistake. "If she'd have bought the pass directly, I would have read her intentions, and prevented it. If it had been a lifetime pass, I'd have been very thorough in checking. But since it was short-time, third-party purchase, I didn't check as thoroughly as I should have." She put her hand on Tyler's arm. "I'm so sorry, dear."

"So ... what do I do?"

The old woman smiled pleasantly. "I know you enjoy spending time with Julia. You enjoyed your last visit, and being her friend for the night. Now you can spend the whole week. I think you'll find a lot more affection from her as her oldest daughter."

"But ... the last time, only a little bit changed. How will she ...?"

The old woman shook her head. "This time, reality was rewritten. You're her daughter now. She knows it, everyone knows it. Tell me your name, please."

Tyler looked confused, and then answered. "Trinity Marie Richards," she answered. "Wait, that's not right. I'm Trinity." Her brow wrinkled. "Why can't I say my name?"

"That _is_ your name, in this reality. It's part of the magic, to make sure you don't make a mistake." She saw the look on Tyler's face. "At least it's better than Tiffany." She glanced toward the women's locker room. "Here she comes now."

Julia was coming over, and she didn't look very happy. "Trin," she called in a stern voice, "I told you to wait in the locker room."

The old woman winked at Trinity, and then smiled to Julia. "It's my fault, dear," she explained. "Your daughter was very curious about the expansion we're doing, so I started talking, and, well, here we are."

Trinity glanced at Julia, then at the old woman. From the corner of her eye, she saw a paper on the table that hadn't been there moments before. She looked down and saw a map of the park, with the new sections highlighted.

Julia sat down and hugged Trinity. "Please don't do that again," she said, trying to sound angry but sounding caring and loving instead. "You know I worry about you."

"I promise, Mom," Trinity said, and her eyes widened. She had intended to say "Julia", but couldn't. The old woman's magic really _was_ keeping her from making mistakes.

Julia smiled. "Good. Now let's go have some fun."

As Julia stood, Trinity glanced at the old woman again, and then looked up at Julia. "She was just telling me about the new spa and Roman baths," she said, searching for an excuse to ask just one more question of the old woman. "Since we're reading about that in school, can I at least hear how the park will be?"

"Okay. One minute, okay?" Julia smiled. "I'm going to get your sister from the gift shop. If I know her, she's window shopping for a new swimsuit that I can't afford." She turned and left, a happy bounce in her step, as if she was used to spending a day with _two_ girls instead of one.

"How? How can we afford this? Mom is ... not well off!" Trinity asked.

"Reality has changed a bit. She has a little better job than you remember."

"Oh." Trinity frowned. "What else has changed?"

The old woman smiled. "If you think about the past, you'll remember the details."

"Okay." Trinity stood and turned to leave, but turned back. "Thank you for the help, um ..." She paused, looking puzzled. "I don't know what to call you."

"Most people just call me Grandmother."

**********

"But ...?" Trinity was confused. She still had Tyler's memories, and they did not include sleeping in the same bedroom as Tracy, in the top bunk. In fact, Tyler's memories didn't have a bunk bed in Tracy's room. "I'm not sure I want the top bunk," Trinity said.

"Any more, you mean," Julia said. She rolled her eyes. "After all the fussing you made about being oldest and getting first choice, after all these years of demanding the top bunk, now you want to change your mind at nine o'clock on a school night?"

As Julia spoke, the memories of those arguments came back to Trinity. She frowned; why was she so upset about the top bunk? Just as suddenly, some of Tyler's memories resurfaced — having the top bunk as a kid, only to be thrown off while wrestling with his older brother. Tyler had broken his arm, dislocated his elbow, and gotten a concussion. After that fight and resulting trip to the emergency room, followed by surgery, he'd had a phobia about the top bunk, and willing gave it up to his brother.

For a moment, Trinity felt caught between two realities, not sure if she loved or hated the top bunk. "Okay, Mom." She knew she didn't have a choice.

"We can talk more tomorrow night," Julia said as she gave Trinity a hug. "And if you still want to move, we can do it tomorrow night, when you have more time, okay?" She kissed Trinity on the forehead. "Now get in your jammies and get to bed. You've got school tomorrow."

"Okay," Trinity agreed. "Can we talk a bit ... after I get ready for bed?"

"Sure, honey," Julia answered with a smile. "As long as you're in bed by nine-thirty." She left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Do you really mean it? I can have the top bunk?" Tracy said excitedly.

Trinity smiled at her 'sister'. "Sure. Why not?" The smile turned into a grin. "That way, if you act up, I can always kick the bottom of your bunk!"

Tracy laughed. "You wouldn't, would you?" She saw the look on Trinity's face. "You _would_!"

"Just kidding," Trinity said with a grin. She saw Tracy starting to undress, and the uneasy feeling returned with a vengeance. Tracy was a girl, and she _shouldn't_ be seeing her undress. Should she? After all, she was a girl, too. She shook her head; this mixing of memories was confusing.

Trinity half-turned away from Tracy and pulled off her blouse. She wriggled out of her shorts, and then slipped off the training bra that she'd been shocked to discover in her locker earlier that day. As she glanced down at her chest, at the slightly-swollen areolae, she realized that she _needed_ a training bra, and that soon, she'd need a real one.

As if on autopilot, she pulled down and stepped out of her panties, tossing them in the laundry hamper, and pulled a clean pair from her dresser. Without thinking, she pulled them on, and only then did she marvel at how nice and silky they felt. A slight purr of contentment rippled through her before she pulled on her nightshirt.

Trinity was grateful for the showers and the bath products in the stalls. Because she'd cleaned herself thoroughly there, she didn't feel dirty, or in need of another shower. At least, she thought, it delayed the inevitable, when she'd have to shower in the apartment.

She slipped out to the living room, where Julia was sitting at a desk working on bills, and plopped down on the sofa.

As soon as she heard the noise on the couch, Julia put down her pen and turned. "What's on your mind, sweetie?"

Trinity shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just ... feeling weird inside."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Trinity shook her head feebly. "I don't know. It's just that I feel ... different."

Julia came over and sat beside her daughter. "I understand, honey," she said in a soothing voice. "I know some of the kids have made fun of you because you don't have a dad, and because we're not as rich as they are." Her voice started to crack with emotion. "I know it's hard."

Trinity's eyebrow rose. She was still trying to assimilate all her new 'girl' memories, and that hadn't been the intent of her words. She didn't know how to tell Julia that she felt torn, because she'd been Tyler until that morning. She _couldn't_ tell Julia, because, in the current reality, Julia would have never experienced someone changing at Bikini Beach, and wouldn't believe Trinity.

Instead, Trinity realized that the subject of which Julia was speaking was very sensitive to her Mom. "I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "I ... know you don't like me to talk about it."

Julia wiped at tears, a gesture noticed by Trinity. "I ... miss him," she said softly, her voice cracking with emotion. After a moment of silence, she turned to Trinity. "It's past your bedtime. Scoot."

Trinity nodded. "Okay, Mom," she answered, and then gave Julia a hug.

**********

"Get out of bed, sleepy!" Julia shook Trinity. "You're going to be late for school."

Trinity rubbed her eyes, and as soon as she started to open them, she was alert. Things were _very_ wrong! She was in a girls' room, and she quickly established that she was in a bunk bed, and that Julia was waking her up. Her! In a flash of stunning recall, the events of the previous day came back to mind, and Trinity remembered that she was a girl!

Trinity let her body — and memories — go on autopilot as she dressed, just like the old woman from the park had advised. It still seemed weird to be dressing in the same room as Tracy, but less so than the previous night. Without thinking, she ended up in a pair of tight jeans, with a rhinestone pattern on the back pockets, and a tan sleeveless blouse. In the bathroom, she brushed her hair, and, without thinking again, pulled it back and fastened it with a scrunchie.

Inside, Tyler's voice was crying out, angry at what Olivia had done. He wanted to spend time with Julia, not go back to middle school. He wanted to enjoy a passionate, loving embrace, not a familial mother-daughter hug. He wanted to enjoy the wonderful fragrance of her perfume, not smell it as an ordinary, boring, unexciting odor. He wanted to revel in her lips tenderly brushing his, not get a kiss on the cheek from a doting mother. Trinity was crying inside at her predicament.

Julia noticed that Trin seemed a little slow as she sat down at the table for breakfast. "Are you okay, honey?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"I'm fine, Mom," Trin protested, flinching again at how she'd automatically addressed Julia. She half-heartedly lifted a glass of juice and took a sip.

"Well, if you're so fine, how come you're not eating your breakfast?" Julia asked, indicating the plate with a slice of toast, cottage cheese, and strawberries in front of Trin.

Trin felt a stab of panic. Memories of Tyler's childhood flooded her, of a time when Tyler's father would verbally flay him for anything less than what was demanded, even to the point of what and how much he ate for breakfast. There was no mercy, no compassion. "I'm not hungry," Trin said cautiously, expecting trouble, as she pushed around the white lump of cottage cheese with her spoon.

Julia stopped what she was doing and turned toward the table. She reached an open hand towards Trin's forehead, causing the girl to flinch. But, to Trin's shock, instead of a backhanded slap, Julia gently put her hand on Trin's forehead. "You don't feel warm," she said. "Is your stomach upset?"

"Really," Trin insisted, "I'm okay."

"Okay," Julia said, not sounding convinced. "If you say so." She turned back to the kitchen counter. "I've almost got your lunches packed."

To satisfy her mom, Trinity forced herself to eat a little breakfast. From the disapproving look, she knew that her mom had expected her to eat more.

"Hurry up and clean up your plate," Julia insisted. "You're going to miss your bus."

"Yeah, Trin," Tracy added as she walked into the kitchen. She'd already eaten, cleaned up after herself, and now wore her book backpack as she stood, waiting for her older sister.

Trin sighed, and then scooped one last strawberry and some cottage cheese onto a corner of the toast and shoved it into her mouth. As she chewed, she picked up her plate and moved toward the sink, out of habit, to scrape the leftovers into the garbage disposal.

"What are you doing?" Julia interrupted her in a reproving voice.

Trin flinched again, unsure of what infraction she'd committed, but expecting to be chastised for something. "Uh, I was cleaning my plate," she explained weakly.

Julia shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Sometimes, girl, you'd forget your head if it wasn't fastened on." She took the plate from Trin and scraped the food into a plastic container. "Here," she said, "_now_ rinse it off and put it in the dishwasher." She shook her head as she finished packing her own lunch from the breakfast leftovers. "I swear you do that just to get me to clean up your plate! Now hurry before you miss the bus — again!"

Trin put the plate in the dishwasher, thinking as she did so. Memories were faint and hazy; they were far from well-off, and Mom wouldn't let anything go to waste, including breakfast, which she recycled into her own lunch. Trin picked up her backpack and started toward the door.

Julia interrupted again. "Wait a sec," she said as she scurried to the two girls. She wrapped an arm around each of them, and then, in turn, kissed each on the forehead. "I love you girls. Have a good day," she said in a cheery, loving tone. "See you after work."

"Bye, Mom," Trin said before she even realized that the words had come from her mouth. "Love you, too." She puzzled at the words — where they'd come from, how automatic they'd been. Had Tyler ever said he loved his dad? Probably not even once. And his mom? She'd died when he was way too young, and there were only faint memories of a kind woman's face.

Still wondering about the morning, Trin trudged out the door, her backpack on her back, to the bus stop, where other pre-teen kids were likewise waiting. As she neared the stop, one girl's face brightened, and she called out, "Hey, Trin!"

Trinity felt the panic return. She was frantically sorting through memories, trying to filter Tyler's strong memories from the shadowy "new reality" memories of Trinity. "Morning," she mumbled unenthusiastically. A name came to a ghostly memory. "Beth?" she said cautiously. As she spoke, the bus pulled up, the doors opened, and the kids started climbing aboard. Beth stood beside Trinity as the littler kids got on.

Beth's smile broadened. Apparently, Trinity had gotten the name association right. "Same as always. I hate Monday." Beth was about the same size as Trinity, but her hair was long and sandy blonde, and she had some faint freckles. Trin noted that her big brown eyes and innocent-looking face were probably going to break some boys' hearts later in life. Where Trin's clothing was older and plainer, Beth's jeans looked new, and her top was very stylish. Trin suddenly felt self-conscious about her clothing.

Beth looked closer at Trinity. "Are you okay?"

Trin sighed. "Mom asked the same thing. Everyone thinks I'm not feeling well or something, when I'm really just tired." She couldn't tell Beth the truth — that she was really an older man who'd been magically changed into Trinity, and her mind was a jumble of conflicting memories and thoughts. She stepped up into the bus, followed closely by Beth. Trin took an open seat behind Tracy, who was busily talking with one of her friends. As expected, Beth sat down beside her.

"Are you still up for going to hang out at the mall after school? Topside is having a sale, and I want to see if ...." Beth stopped suddenly, and her hand rose to cover her open mouth, as she realized what she was saying. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean ...." She fell silent.

Trinity frowned momentarily as she tried to assimilate the memories and Beth's sudden apology. She remembered clearly that her mom didn't want to waste any food, and .... The memories snapped into place. They weren't very well off, financially. While they weren't poor, her mom's job didn't pay an extravagant salary, and with two girls, they rarely got fancy new things. Trin suddenly realized that almost all of Tracy's clothing had been hand-me-downs from her, and that new clothes were a rare treat. She _couldn't_ go shopping, because it was a luxury the family couldn't afford.

"That's okay," Trin found herself telling Beth. She saw Beth's worried look ease. "I can still help you look." For some reason, she smiled. "Especially if you let me borrow one of your outfits now and then." Inwardly, she wondered where on earth those words or thoughts had come from. Then again, she thought, the old woman's magic was pretty thorough, so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for the magic to give her not only girl's skills, but also thoughts and memories to match the new reality. She shuddered inwardly at how powerful the magic was.

Beth grinned, and she gave Trin a quick hug. "Deal."

Fortunately for Trin, Beth felt talkative, so Trinity didn't have to say much during the short ride to school. As soon as they got off the bus, the girls were rushing to their classrooms, so Trin didn't have much time to talk with Beth until lunch. She was going on 'autopilot', relying entirely on the memories and skills the park's magic had given her. She did find, though, that her true memories, those of Tyler, gave her a considerable advantage in her classes, since Tyler had memories of college coursework. All that was left was the busy-work that some teachers found necessary to inflict on their students.

Despite Trinity's misgivings, shopping with Beth was a lot of fun, even if she felt self-conscious about her clothing. She saw some outfits in the store that, according to her girl thoughts, she really wanted. Tyler had never enjoyed shopping. Trinity had fun with Beth, trying on different outfits, talking about which would look best with what pants or jeans, and giggling about some of the 'gossip' from the other girls. Beth bought a couple of new tops, promising that Trin could borrow them whenever she wanted. It was nearly six when Beth and Trin climbed into Beth's mom's car for the ride home.

When she got home, she saw that her mom's car was already in its parking spot. Trin gave Beth a hug, thanked her mom, and then scurried up to the apartment.

As she opened the door, Trin remembered that she was responsible for some of the household chores. She winced as she wondered if her mom was going to be upset.

"Trin?" Julia called from the kitchen, "is that you, honey?" She didn't sound upset.

Trin was nervous. "Yes, Mom," she answered as she dropped her backpack out of the way. "Sorry I'm late."

"Did you girls have fun?" Julia answered.

The answer wasn't what Trinity feared. "Uh, yeah," she replied cautiously. "Beth and I had a lot of fun shopping." She walked around the corner to the kitchen.

"And I suppose you found a lot of new outfits that you're just dying to have, right?" Julia's words could have been biting and unkind, but they sounded playful and cheery.

Trin felt her head spinning. Memories were swirling in a dizzying torrent, Tyler's old memories, the false memories of the new reality, Trinity's experiences of the past day and a half. She felt like she was walking blind through a fog, unsure of what shapes were real and what weren't. "Nothing I need right now," Trinity answered unsteadily. She wasn't sure how her mother would react.

"Maybe something for your birthday?" Julia asked with a smile. "Or Christmas?"

"Maybe." Trin looked at her mother preparing the meal, and realized with a start that _she_ was supposed to cook the meals. But she'd been out goofing around with her friend.

"Can you empty the dishwasher, please?" Julia asked.

"Sure, Mom." Trin set about the chore energetically, hoping she wouldn't be called to task for not doing the cooking. In only a few minutes, she had the clean dishes put away, and then loaded the dirty ones from the sink.

As soon as that was done, Trinity thought for a moment, and then went to the hall closet. After a bit of a struggle, she extracted the vacuum cleaner. She plugged in the machine, and then commenced vacuuming the living room.

All of a sudden, Trinity felt odd, like she was being watched. She looked up, and her eyes widened in uncertainty and a bit of fear when she saw her mother standing by the door to the kitchen, staring at her. "Uh, I was just doing my chores," she protested feebly, her memories of Tyler and his chores overriding all others.

Julia walked over and shut off the vacuum, then swept Trin up in a warm hug. "I know," she answered with a smile, "and I really appreciate everything you do to help around here."

"I'm sorry I was late and didn't get dinner cooking," Trinity apologized again, feeling her eyes watering. She felt truly ashamed that she'd let fun with a friend get in the way of her household chores, and she _knew_ that trouble was coming.

Only it didn't. Julia gave her another kiss on the forehead and hugged her all the more tightly. "You told me that you might be a little late," she explained patiently, "so I'm not upset." She smiled. "You don't have to clean the house to make up for it, either. But if you really want to swap bunks with Tracy, you _are_ going to have to help with that chore."

**********

Trinity sat, looking down at the backpack on the floor, afraid to look up at the principal's secretary. She knew that, at any moment, her mom was going to come through the door, and after her mom found out what had happened from the principal, Trinity was going to get in serious trouble.

When the door did open, Trinity couldn't help glancing up, and she saw her mom. She quickly dropped her gaze, knowing that she'd let her mom down.

Julia stepped to the secretary's desk. "Excuse me," she announced her presence, "I'm Julia Richards, Trinity's mom."

The secretary looked up from her computer, annoyed at being interrupted. "Mrs. Henderson will be right with you," she said. "If you would like to have a seat."

Trinity felt as if her mother's eyes were burning into her, piercing her with anger. She knew she'd disappointed her mother greatly, at the very least. Her mom had had to take time off work, too.

Julia stood her ground. "If you don't mind," she replied firmly, "I think I'd like to hear what my daughter has to say first."

The secretary looked at her as if she'd just come from Mars. She'd never had a parent request private time with the student first. It just _wasn't_ done. "Um, I believe Mrs. Henderson is waiting for you."

"I understand," Julia countered, with forced politeness. "But I'm going to speak with my daughter first, so when _we_ talk to Mrs. Henderson, Trinity will have had a chance to tell me _her_ side of the story, and I won't have to make any decisions or accept any punishments unfairly."

"Uh," the secretary stammered, "I ... I guess you could talk in ... the assistant principal's office?"

Julia smiled, knowing that she'd forced the secretary to back down. She knew better than to rub it in. "That's okay. We'll be fine talking right here." She turned and sat down beside Trinity.

Trin looked up, and then looked back down, afraid of facing her mom.

Julia's hand gently lifted Trinity's head, so she was looking at her mom. "A long time ago, I promised you I wouldn't get angry or punish you until I knew the whole story, remember?"

The memories were sorting themselves more quickly as time passed. Trinity remembered, faintly, such a conversation. "Yes."

"Okay. Now just tell me what happened."

Trinity wiped at her eyes. "We were at lunch, and I heard Hailey and some of her friends calling Tracy names and making fun of her."

"What were they saying?" Julia asked, glancing at the secretary who she knew was listening in to the conversation.

"Hailey and Deanna were calling her poor white trash, and saying she was a poor hillbilly. They said she wore trashy clothes and didn't have any fashion sense. They were laughing at her trying to make her cry."

Julia glanced at the secretary again. "So what happened next?"

Trinity looked at the floor. "I guess I told Hailey to shut up."

"Is that all?" Julia asked knowingly.

"No."

"What else?"

Trinity gulped. She knew that she was going to be in trouble. "I ... called her a ... a rich bitch," Trinity admitted. She looked up at Julia, her eyes almost defiant. "I told her that someday, her daddy's money wasn't going to do any good, and then she'd find out that being a snob to people wasn't working any more, and she wouldn't have any friends."

Julia tried to keep from smiling with parental pride at how Trinity had stuck up for her little sister. "You didn't hit her, did you?"

"No," Trin said softly. Then she looked up, a defiant look in her eyes. "But I wanted to. I _should_ have!"

"No, you shouldn't have," Julia chided her softly. "You don't hit people, unless absolutely necessary, remember?"

Trinity nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Did you say something else?"

Trinity looked down again. "Yes, ma'am. I said that she'd be up a creek without a paddle."

Julia tried to keep from laughing, because she realized exactly what Trinity had said. "Were those the exact words you used?"

Trinity winced. "No, ma'am. I said she'd be up shit creek without a paddle," she admitted. "And I called her a snotty cow, too."

"I see." Julia decided it was time to shift the focus of the discussion. "How long did they tease Tracy before you said anything?"

Trinity looked up at her mom. "Most of lunch period," she answered. "And they had Tracy crying, and they were laughing at her."

"Was anyone else with you?"

"Beth," Trin answered quickly. "And Sally and Natalya were at my table, too."

"I think I understand what happened," Julia said. She patted Trinity on the shoulder. "Let's go talk to Mrs. Henderson and see what she has to say."

Mrs. Henderson, to Julia's surprise, was standing in the doorway of her office, listening to the conversation. Julia's first impression was that the woman had an over-inflated sense of her own importance, just from how she carried herself.

Julia decided to take the offensive. "I assume you heard Trinity's side of the story?" she asked the principal as Julia stood.

"Let's discuss this in my office," the principal replied. It was a transparent display of her power.

Julia and Trinity walked into the office and sat down across from the principal. She was using her desk as a throne, a display of her importance. Julia was unimpressed.

"Your daughter became verbally abusive toward a student today in the lunchroom," Mrs. Henderson said sharply, dispensing with the formalities. "She used some foul language, and threatened a girl."

"That's not true," Trinity started to protest, before Julia hushed her by placing her arm on Trinity's.

"Could you please provide more details than a general accusation?" Julia asked calmly.

"At lunch, she interrupted a conversation and began to call Hailey Wilcox names, using profanity, and then threatened physical harm if Hailey was seen talking to your other daughter."

Julia nodded for a moment. "That doesn't at all match the story my daughter told," she replied. "What do the other witnesses say?" She saw the principal's eyes widen. "Surely, if it was in the lunch room, there were other witnesses?"

"Uh, ...."

"Trinity said that several other girls were nearby. They should be able to provide some insight as to what happened."

"We ... have the facts we need," Mrs. Henderson retorted angrily. "Because of the threat, I am suspending your daughter for three days."

Trinity felt a surge of panic. She glanced up at her mom, her mouth agape, stunned by the unfairness of what was happening.

Julia didn't flinch. "Mrs. Henderson, I understand that, as principal, you have to keep order in the school, and that you have to take threats seriously so you can protect the children. I may be only a secretary at a law firm, but even _I_ know that there is such a thing as due process, and schools are not allowed to ignore that."

Trinity glanced up at her mother, her mouth hanging open in astonishment at the way she was defending Trinity from being railroaded by the principal.

"If there were witnesses, they should have been interviewed to establish the facts. One of the girls is not telling the truth. If Trinity's story is true, then you are not only putting up with social bullying, but your actions condone it." She saw the principal pale slightly. "If she is lying, then she deserves punishment, not only for her actions here, but also by me for her lie." She took a deep breath. "I realize that the Wilcox and Edmunds families contribute a great deal to the PTA and other fundraisers, and I am, unfortunately, not in similar financial circumstances to help," Julia continued, her voice emotionless. "But if you think I'm going to sit by and let you railroad my daughter and impact her grades based on as-yet-unproven hearsay from wealthier girls, then you'd better think again."

"Are you threatening me?" Mrs. Henderson asked, her voice tinted by anger.

"No, Mrs. Henderson, I am not," Julia countered quickly and calmly. "I'm only saying that you may have a problem in your school with social bullying. And I don't think, given the news stories of the past few months, that you want that sort of negative publicity if, in fact, my daughter's story can be verified by witnesses."

Mrs. Henderson's eyes narrowed as she contemplated what Julia had said. She was clearly unhappy at what Julia had said. "Perhaps we should interview the other students," she said after a long, awkward silence.

Julia smiled. "That's all I ask."

"For now, there won't be a suspension, while we interview the other children."

"Thank you." Julia stood. "Now, I know you're very busy with other things, so if we're through for now, I'll take Trin home."

"Good day, Ms. Richards," Mrs. Henderson said as she stood, extending her hand to shake Julia's in a stiff, formal gesture. As soon as that was done, she sat back down and turned to her computer, indicating that Julia and Trinity were dismissed.

As they walked out of the building toward their car, Trinity started trembling. By the time she sat down, she was visibly shaking. She _knew_ that she was going to get in serious trouble for having caused her mom to miss some work.

Julia noticed, and she leaned and gave Trinity a hug. "I'm so proud of you," she said in a tender voice, "for standing up for your sister."

"I ... I thought you'd be mad," Trinity said as she started to sob.

"How could I be mad at my baby girl for defending her sister?" Julia answered. "You did what you thought was right, and you didn't lose your temper or do something stupid. That took a lot of courage, and a lot of self-discipline. How could I possibly be mad at you for that?" She smiled. "I know adults who couldn't have handled that kind of situation the way you did."

**********

As she lay in bed late Tuesday night, Trinity’s cell phone buzzed. She bolted upright, and quickly picked up the phone from her nightstand, hoping that it wouldn’t wake up Tracy, who was sleeping soundly — she hoped — above her in the top bunk. She smiled to herself at the big hug she'd gotten from Tracy after they swapped beds. Tracy had called her "the best sister ever." Trin still felt warm inside at the love Tracy showed.

Trinity’s phone was a reminder of the family’s financial status; while other girls all had smartphones, she had a basic cell phone that did only text and calls. It was, as she’d discovered, a point that other girls, such as Deanna and Hailey, used to emphasize Trin’s and Tracy’s lower social status. Trinity huddled up on her bed, working the phone’s controls.

It was a text message. Trin wondered for a moment, and then she saw the number. It was from _her_.

“R u enjoying your time with your mistress?” Olivia had texted.

Trin’s mood instantly turned foul. “Why did u do this 2 me?” she texted back.

“U wanted time with your girlfriend. C U Sunday. Have fun.”

Trin shut off her phone and sat on her bed, fuming. Olivia knew how to get under her skin, and she was doing exactly that. What Trin wondered, though, was how Olivia had gotten Trin’s cell phone number.

For a moment, she thought of showing the harassing text message to Julia, but then she remembered that Julia knew nothing of Trin’s change. Reality had been altered, after all. Only Trin and Olivia knew, and Julia would probably think that Trin was crazy if she mentioned it. She wondered if, in this reality, her mom even knew about the magic of Bikini Beach. There would be no reason for her to know, because she wouldn't have gone there with Tyler, who didn't exist, or didn't exist anymore. Would he have existed? Trinity's head was starting to hurt from trying to figure out the reality change.

On the other hand, a text message from a strange woman late at night _could_ be considered threatening or harassing. Trin was stuck, and she fumed as she realized that Olivia was off somewhere, gloating at the predicament she’d put Tyler in. It was yet another demonstration of the power Olivia had over Tyler’s life, and Trin felt helpless, snared in a web not of her making. She fell asleep trying to figure out how to handle the offensive message from Olivia.

**********

Trinity lay awake on her bottom bunk, trying to sort out her thoughts. The week so far had brought a jumble of emotions. She was thoroughly confused. She _should_ have been in serious trouble the other day for missing chores. Instead, her mom was making allowances for Trin to have a life outside the home, and was very appreciative of Trin's efforts. She _should_ have been in trouble for causing her mom to miss work and bail her out of trouble at school. Instead, her mom was proud of her to the point of tears for defending her sister.

"Tracy?" she whispered softly. There was no answer. She looked around, and saw a faint glow coming through the door; a light was on somewhere in the apartment.

Trinity slipped from beneath her covers and sat up, sliding her feet into her slippers. Quietly, so as not to disturb her sister, she crept out of the room, following the light to the kitchen.

Julia sat at the table, quietly writing checks to pay the bills from one stack, sliding the bill and check into the envelope, and placing the envelopes in another stack. It was neat, methodical work, and she was so engrossed that she didn’t notice Trinity standing nearby. The clock read just after eleven.

Trin glided silently to the table. “Can I help?” she asked softly.

Julia started at the interruption, and then smiled. “It’s way past your bedtime,” she admonished Trinity. Even her reminder was tender and caring.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Trinity said as she sat down beside her mother.

Julia chuckled. “I’m not surprised. You had a pretty busy couple of days.” She pushed the stack of completed envelopes in front of Trinity. “As long as you’re up, you can help.” She saw the look on Trinity’s face. “Just for a bit. You’ve got school tomorrow, remember?”

“Okay.”

“Seal the envelopes, and then put stamps on them,” Julia directed.

After a couple of envelopes, Trinity spoke. “Mom, I was scared when I had to stand up to Deanna and Hailey.”

Julia nodded. “That’s understandable. Sometimes, when you do what you know is right, it _can_ be scary.”

“I was so afraid that you were going to be mad at me,” Trin admitted softly. “Or disappointed in me.”

Julia stopped and put her hand on Trin’s cheek. “No, sweetie,” she said reassuringly. “How could I be disappointed in you for sticking up for your sister?”

“You always told us to never get in fights,” Trin recalled.

Julia laughed softly. “I told you to not start a fight, but to fight when you had to.” She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in some distant memories. “In a lot of ways, you’re like your father, at least, the way he was when we first met.”

“Mom,” Trin asked, now curious, “someday, will you tell me about Dad?”

Julia leaned back and sighed. “I knew that someday, sooner or later, you’d ask, and that we’d have to talk.” She looked at her hands on the table, clearly not sure how to proceed. “Your dad was a very special man. He was kind and loving, and he cared very much for us.”

“What happened to him? Did he … leave us?”

Julia wiped the tears that suddenly came. “He … died in a car accident shortly after Tracy was born.”

Trin felt tears welling up in her own eyes. “Is that why you never talk about him?”

Julia nodded sadly. “That, and how much it reminds me of what could have been, if only he’d have been a little stronger.”

Trin frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Julia put her hands gently on Trin’s. “I guess you’re old enough to know.” She paused, searching for the right words and fighting her own emotions. “Your father and I … we … never got married.”

“Oh,” Trin said. For some reason, she felt disappointed, and very sad for her mother. “Did he love you?”

“Oh, he loved all of us very, very much!” Julia exclaimed softly. “He loved us all more than anything else.”

“Why didn’t you get married?” Trin asked, dreading the answer.

Julia looked down and bit her lip. Trin could feel her hands trembling. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Julia looked back up. “He … we … had an affair.” She wiped her tears. “He … was already married.”

Trinity frowned. This was starting to sound too familiar. “Oh.”

Julia shook her head sadly. “She was a very mean woman, and she wasn’t nice to him.”

“Why didn’t he leave her?” Trin already knew the answer, but she figured that if she didn't ask, it would sound odd to her mother. On top of that, by this point in the conversation, she was curious to hear Julia's unvarnished views.

“I don’t know,” Julia said as she wiped her eyes again. “He wanted to, but at first, she and her family threatened him. After a while, I think he forgot how to stand up for himself, and he was just afraid of her.”

“Oh.” Trinity thought. “So Tracy and I are illegitimate?”

Julia’s eyes widened with surprise, but only for a moment, and then she smiled. “I prefer to say that I’m a single mother of the two most wonderful girls in the world.”

“Did you want to marry him?”

“Oh, yes, sweetie,” Julia said, unable to disguise the anguish in her voice. Some painful memories were being stirred by the conversation. “I wanted very much to marry him. Even if we’d have been poor, I’d have married him.”

“Did he want to marry you?”

Julia nodded slowly. “Yes, I’m sure he did. But he couldn’t get a divorce from his wife.” She made yet another futile attempt to dry her tears. “I never told you, but you girls look a lot like him.”

Trin paused, looking down at her mom’s hands still atop hers. “I wish I knew him.”

“So do I," Julia said.

Trinity looked at the task her mother was doing, late, and thought of all the chores associated with looking after two girls and running a household. “It’s hard work for you, isn’t it? Raising us, I mean?”

Julia smiled, nodding. “Yes, dear, it is. But you’re worth it.” She suddenly took her hands off Trinity’s, and turned her attention back to the bills. “It’s late. You need to go to bed.”

“Okay,” Trin said reluctantly. She stood and gave Julia a hug. “Nite, Mom,” she said softly, before she turned and padded back to her bed.

**********

Saturday night, after a busy day that included a picnic in a park, playing by the seashore, and homemade pizza and a movie, the exhausted girls crawled into bed, weary but very happy.

Trin felt happy, happier than she’d ever felt. She felt at peace, very content being tucked into bed by her loving mother. Above her, in the top bunk, her sister, her best friend, was already asleep. She'd loved playing with Tracy. Her eyes closed slowly as sleep overtook her tired little body, but she went to sleep with a smile on her face.

The buzzing of her cell phone interrupted her sleep. She felt groggy, still half-asleep, as she sat up and looked at her phone. Suddenly, her eyes were wide open.

“U change at midnite. Get home.”

Trin swallowed and looked at the clock. It was a few minutes before midnight. Slowly, the pieces reassembled themselves in her mind. The pass was supposed to expire in a few minutes.

She pulled on her slippers, stood, and padded softly to the living room. Moonlight filtered through the vertical blinds, giving the room an eerie, shadowy appearance. Trin shuddered inwardly as she felt a tremor of unease. She was going to change back — and she didn’t know what else would change with it. She sank slowly into a wing chair, her hands resting on the arms and holding tight, like she was expecting a wild ride.

A faint tingling sensation was the first sign that things were changing. It spread quickly, and Trin found herself growing, stretching, as the magic wore off and she returned to Tyler’s form. She watched her hand as it swelled, growing from the delicate little-girl fingers to the rough, scarred hands of a grown man. She knew the rest of her was changing as well.

Tyler glanced up, and his eyes widened as he saw the entire room wavering. The sofa seemed to dissolve, until it was changed to the old sofa on which he remembered cuddling with Julia. The walls themselves seemed to become translucent for a moment, and then solidified. Around him, the room reformed, until it was Julia’s old apartment that she shared with Tracy.

Tyler’s clothes flowed like liquid around him, until the little-girl pajamas had become his customary casual pants and polo shirt. Slippers elongated and widened, the fuzzy material changing to fine leather.

In moments, it was over. Tyler glanced and saw Julia sleeping on the sofa, covered by a light blanket. Across from them, the television screen flickered, displaying the last image of the movie that had been playing.

Tyler’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. Once again, it was his smartphone.

On the screen was a message from Olivia. “Get your ass home now.”

Tyler sighed heavily. It felt like the past week had been a dream, and now he’d returned to his nightmarish existence. Slowly, quietly, he lifted himself from the chair. He bent over and gave Julia a tender kiss on her cheek, and then padded to the door.

**********

Tyler sat silently and rigidly in the breakfast nook, staring into the cup of coffee he was sipping. On a plate in front of him was a poached egg on a slice of toast — all cold and untouched.

“The trade show was fabulous,” Olivia crowed. “I had a great week. Did you enjoy your week with what’s-her-name?”

Tyler didn’t look up; he didn’t want her to have the pleasure of seeing him seethe and fume at her deliberate taunting, which he knew she was doing in a very deliberate and calculated manner.

“Aren’t you going to talk about your week? Surely, you had a good time.”

“You know what you did to my week,” Tyler replied acidly without looking up.

Olivia sat down opposite him. Her expression was almost frightening. “And just remember that,” she hissed. “I’m in charge. You play by _my_ rules.”

“Or what? I’ll have a convenient ‘accident’, like other people that have crossed your family?” Tyler snarled at her.

Olivia’s smile was particularly wicked. “Nothing so kind. If I catch you with your mistress again, I’ll have you change permanently into a little girl.” She saw him look up at her. “Only next time, you’ll be _my_ daughter!” Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a sneer. “If you think it was hell being a poor girl, you haven’t seen anything!”

Tyler stared at her, his face clouded by anger. Slowly, he took another sip of coffee.

Olivia seemed more enraged that he hadn’t responded to her threat. “Your little affair is over, do you hear? It’s over now!”

“You know,” Tyler said, forcing his voice to remain calm and emotionless, “in some ways, you’re the worst of Miss Havisham and Estella.”

Olivia frowned. “What? What are you talking about?”

Tyler permitted himself a wry smile. “Surely you remember the English Lit class we took together in college? When we studied Dickens?" He wondered if she'd get the reference.

Olivia thought for a moment, trying to remember, and then suddenly she flew in to a rage, throwing her coffee cup at Tyler before she stormed from the kitchen. She paused in the doorway, grasping the door casing to steady her nerves. “It’s over! Do you hear me? It’s over! You will not call her, you will not e-mail her, you will not text her! It’s over!” she screamed as she slammed the door behind herself.

**********

The distinctive ring of his cell phone interrupted Tyler’s brooding. He was sitting in his office, the door closed. His elbows rested on his cold, hard desk, and his hands supported his forehead as he stared unseeingly at the simulated wood surface.

He sighed heavily as he lifted his head and pried his cell phone from his front pocket. As soon as he saw the number, he pressed the button to refuse the call, and he sighed again as he shook his head.

Tyler went back to his brooding. What had happened to him during the week he’d been a little girl? Everything since then seemed so alien to him. Olivia seemed less tolerable. The job, and the management around him, seemed harsher and less pleasant. And he desperately missed Julia.

Tyler couldn’t help but wonder — did he miss her because she loved him as a man, or because she’d given him a mother’s love that he’d never had growing up? It had been so different — and pleasant — to have a mother hugging him and thanking him for doing chores, helping him with homework, and tucking him in at night.

He thought of Tracy, and of standing up to bullies to defend her. He remembered, being a young man, when he’d had to stand up to his brother's bullying. He shook his head. “How much did she take from me?” he asked himself softly. “How much did she destroy?” He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d stood up to Olivia, or to anyone, for that matter. Had Olivia cowed him that much, that he really was afraid of her? Was Julia right — that he was afraid to confront or leave Olivia?

Tyler sat upright suddenly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As he stood, he glanced around the office. What kind of life was he leading? It all seemed so wasted, so futile, so joyless. Julia deserved better from him. Tracy deserved a loving father, not a part-time friend. And _he_ deserved more.

Tyler marched from his office. His secretary looked up, and she cleared her throat to get his attention, but a glance from him let her know that he didn’t want to be interrupted. “I’m going to take a long lunch,” he said simply. He continued straight for the entrance, pausing at the door to take off his badge and drop it unceremoniously in the trash can.

As he drove, Tyler was formulating a plan. His first destination was the bank, where he withdrew some money from his ‘stash’, a savings account where he’d been secretly depositing the excess ‘allowance’ that Olivia gave him. Next, he stopped by an Internet café. As he sipped another cup of coffee, he called up a specific website. He typed in a number, and then began typing a message.

“I’m leaving her. I’ll meet you when you get off work, and we’ll make plans.”

A few seconds later, a reply came. “I’ll meet you earlier.”

Tyler smiled. He typed in a suggested meeting place, and Julia quickly agreed.

It had been a long time since Tyler had felt as inwardly contented as he did walking from the Internet café.

The drive home was short, and, after confirming that Olivia was at work, he went to his closet and quickly pulled down some clothes. He did the same at his dresser, and then he retrieved a suitcase. Without bothering with neatness, he shoved the clothes in. A quick stop got his toiletries, and then he zipped the suitcase shut.

Nervously, Tyler carried the suitcase through the house, and in the garage, dumped it into the trunk of his car. He crawled in the car, and as he pressed the garage door opener, started his car. Automatically, he turned his head to back out of the garage.

Tyler’s heart sank. Olivia’s car was parked across the driveway, blocking him quite thoroughly in the garage. She stood behind his car, her arms crossed and an angry frown on her face.

Unable to move his car, at least for the moment, Tyler shut off the car and crawled out. He walked to Olivia, and defiantly faced her. “Out of my way,” he ordered.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she sneered. “Off to meet your little tramp?”

“I’m through with you, and your abuse,” Tyler snapped. “I’m leaving.”

“Oh, no, you’re not.”

“Don’t you get it? It’s over. I’m done with you.”

Olivia shook her head. “No, it’s not. It’s just beginning.” She glanced to her side.

Tyler’s scowl changed to surprise when a very large man in a dark suit climbed out of Olivia’s car. He was at least a head taller than Tyler, and probably outweighed him by sixty pounds — and all of that was muscle. His expression was so neutral that he could have been carved of stone.

“Do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?” Olivia sneered.

Tyler stood, breathing slowly and fuming inwardly. “You don’t own me,” he said evenly. “I’m leaving.”

Olivia shook her head. “If that’s the way you want to play it.” She turned to her ‘enforcer’. “Bruno, help Mister Lofton into my car.”

Tyler considered his options. He could bolt back into the house, then out through the patio and over the fence into the neighbor’s yard - except the neighbor had a very large, unfriendly dog. The other neighbors — Tyler considered that, perhaps when he was younger, he could have scrambled over the high fence, but now, not having kept in peak shape, it was doubtful. The back yard was completely fenced, so he couldn't go out the back and then escape around the house. He was thoroughly trapped. Nonetheless, he had to try. He bolted to the door into the house, slamming it shut and locking it behind him. That would slow down ....

A large pair of arms encircled him. Tyler felt stupid — of course Olivia would have another 'associate' just to cut off an escape. Some of her family ties were on the thuggish side, so she'd probably learned the tricks of using 'enforcers' at a young age.

Olivia opened the door with her key like she was coming home from the club, nonchalantly and in no hurry. She didn't deign to even look at Tyler as she strode into the house, followed closely by Bruno. She paused, lost in thought. "I was going to have you be about ten. But six sounds a little better. It'll give you a few more years to know that _I'm_ in charge." She turned to Tyler. "I think I'll have the guest room done over. Maybe a canopy bed, with pink and white ruffles on the linens. Would you like that, dearie?"

If looks could have killed, Olivia and Tyler would have slain each other on the spot. Tyler stood, held like he was in concrete, but his head held defiantly erect. He refused to be cowed by her, or to let her taunts get to him. Inwardly, he was already thinking of ways that he could escape her evil clutches, even if he had to do it as a six-year old girl.

"You just wouldn't learn, would you?" Olivia snarled. "I gave you everything. I made you. And now, I'm going to destroy you."

"I'm not going to let you win again," Tyler spat angrily. "Two can play at this game."

Olivia laughed in his face. "I'll find the strictest live-in nanny for you. I'll have you in whatever classes I need to mold you into the perfect little submissive girl. And if that fails, I'll send you to the toughest boarding school I can afford." She grinned. "And that's pretty much any school I want." She reached up and held his jaw. "And I'll ruin that little tramp of yours, too," she said with an evil glare.

"Let her go. She's not ..." Tyler started to protest.

"She's just as guilty as you are!" Olivia shouted. "Well, maybe she'll have an easier time making ends meet when she doesn't have to worry about paying rent after it's discovered that she's been embezzling from her workplace. The state will give her three square meals and a lovely orange wardrobe. And I'm sure her brat will do very nicely in a foster home or an orphanage after mommy is sent away as a felon."

Tyler blanched. He knew she was evil enough to frame Julia just for spite. He felt sick inside. He'd finally gotten up the nerve to leave her, but his failed attempt was going to cost Julia and Tracy dearly. It was completely within Olivia's character to have Julia framed for a crime she didn't commit. He knew Olivia wouldn't rest until she completely destroyed their lives, too.

**********

Tyler nervously took the pass from Olivia's outstretched hand as she glared at him with an evil sneer. Tyler gulped as he felt the strong hand clamped around his upper arm. The arm belonged to one of the two enforcers who'd been with Olivia at the house. Tyler glanced to the side, and saw the man standing there like a statue in a dark suit, firmly grasping Tyler in case he decided to try to run. There was not a hint of expression on the man's face, but his eyes had a cold determination.

"Go ahead, _dear_," Olivia taunted him. "You like this place so much, I got you the lifetime pass that you wanted. Now go in and get changed."

Tyler gulped again. Olivia had made her threat, and now she was carrying it out. Silently, he was escorted to the turnstile by the enforcer. He glanced around, hoping to see either the girl Anya or the old woman. Sadly, he saw neither. In fact, no-one seemed at all surprised at seeing him half-dragged through the turnstile. Bruno clamped his hand like a vice over Tyler's and forced him to swipe the card that Olivia had given him. Then Bruno swiped his own card.

"Don't try to run," the man said in an emotionless tone. "You can't get away."

At the door, he paused, looking back at Olivia. The wicked glare she gave him confirmed that he had no way out. With no further word, he stepped into the locker room.

Tyler knew what was going to happen. He wondered, for a moment, if Bruno knew. Somehow, he doubted it. Olivia wouldn't tell her 'associates' any more than they needed to know, which in this case, wasn't much. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

Bruno dragged Tyler to one of the shower stalls. He pulled the curtain aside. "Inside," he said simply.

Tyler reached in and turned the handle, starting the spray of water, the spray that would seal his fate as Olivia's young daughter.

As he started to step in, he ducked suddenly, raising his elbow hard toward Bruno's solar plexus. He connected, and judging from the "oof" coming from the giant, Tyler knew that he'd connected. He twisted, breaking his arm free of Bruno's grasp, and stepped to one side of the shower. Bruno recovered quickly, and he turned, just in time to get punched again, this time toward his windpipe. Tyler knew how to fight dirty, and he knew he needed to put the big man down, and quickly. Bruno, however, wasn't completely stunned by the first blow, and he deflected Tyler's punch. As he turned, however, he received a side-kick to his knee.

Tyler punched again, aiming for spots he knew, from street fighting, to be vulnerable, or even lethal. He was amazed. That kick to Bruno's knee should have dropped him, but the big man still stood. Grinning sadistically, he easily absorbed Tyler's blows, and then started toward Tyler, his fists raised in a boxing pose as he balanced carefully on his feet. Tyler wasn't going to take him by surprise again. Tyler jabbed, and connected with Bruno, to no affect.

"Don't make this harder on yourself than it needs to be," Bruno grunted. "You can't get away."

"Do you know what's going to happen to you?" Tyler asked as he backed further from the advancing man. "The water is going to turn you into a girl, just like Olivia wants it to do to me."

Bruno laughed. "Bullshit!" he roared.

Tyler swung, and connected with Bruno's jaw. The only result was a sharp pain in Tyler's hand; the big man seemed unaffected. Tyler swung again, and the big man simply caught his fist.

As Bruno dragged Tyler toward the shower, Tyler knew he was screwed. There was nothing he could do. Except ...

As Bruno pushed against Tyler, who'd wedged his body so he wouldn't go in the shower, Tyler desperately reached into the shower stall and grabbed at a bottle of one of the wash products. He reached toward where he thought the big man's face was and squirted.

The pressure on his arm relaxed suddenly as Bruno, blinded as he was by a face-full of crá¨me rinse, wiped frantically at his face. At the same time, Tyler brought his knee sharply up into Bruno's crotch. The big man doubled over, blinded and in pain.

Tyler ducked to one side of the shower stall, grabbed the big man's jacket, and pushed him forward, head-first, into the running water.

Instinctively, Tyler backed away from the shower stall. It would take time for the magic to do its work, and until Bruno was changed, he knew he was still vulnerable. But even as he backed away, he felt a familiar tingling, and with a sickening feeling in his heart, he looked down at his arm. The bottle of hair rinse fell to the floor as Tyler sank back onto a bench, staring aghast at the wetness on his sleeve. He hadn't escaped, after all.

Tyler knew what Olivia intended his fate to be, and he trembled at the thought of her evil plan. He saw the pink mist spreading from the shower to fill the locker room, and he knew he was starting to change. He lost height and mass as his body shrank quickly, and his hair grew until it was suitable for a young girl. He sighed as he watched his hands grow slimmer and more feminine.

Behind him, Tyler heard a strange croak come from Bruno's mouth, and he turned to see the large man quickly losing both height and weight as his muscles melted away, replaced by the shapely curves of a young lady. Bruno looked down at his body, now draped comically by his large suit, and he screamed again. This time, the scream was higher in pitch, and as Tyler watched, Bruno's clothes began to mold around him, until the enforcer was attired in a very skimpy bikini.

Bruno looked at himself in horror, seeing what he'd become. He looked up at Tyler, his eyes pleading and confused. He tried to speak again, but all his addled mind could do was scream.

Knowing that he'd have to face her eventually, Tyler ignored the panic-stricken, changed enforcer and stepped around the corner to the exit, toward the damning mirror that would show him his fate, and to where he knew Olivia would be waiting to gloat.

His mouth dropped open at how young he was. He knew that Olivia had carried out her threat to make him about six. He was a very small girl now, just as she'd planned. Small, and weak, and helpless before Olivia and her anger and vindictiveness. He felt faint, and slowly, darkness closed in around him. The last thing he remembered was the girl, Anya, reassuring him that everything would be okay as she caught him, keeping him from falling.

**********

An acrid smell pierced his senses, causing him to cough violently and flinch from the source. As if a light switch had been snapped on, Tyler's eyes snapped open. "What...?" he started to ask, not surprised at the little girl's voice that came from his throat.

"Shh," a very gentle voice assured him. "You're okay. You just fainted."

He turned, and saw a lovely young lady, in a blaze-orange T-shirt with the medical caduceus and a red cross on her sleeves. The inevitable "Bikini Beach" logo was printed on the front of her shirt. "I'm Dr. Chastity," the lady said. The lady seemed very large in comparison to him; he knew that he was much younger and smaller than the last time he'd been changed.

"What ... happened?" Tyler asked, still confused.

Dr. Chastity glanced at the old woman and at Anya, and then smiled back at Tyler. "You fainted. Maybe the change was too much of a shock for you." She stood slowly. "I think you'll be fine, now. I want you to rest here for ten or fifteen minutes to make sure you're okay, and if you feel faint or dizzy again, have someone come and get me." She strode easily to the doorway into the park. "I've got to get over to the wave pool. Someone injured an ankle." She excused herself.

Tyler assessed his situation. He was in what appeared to be a first-aid clinic, lying on a sofa. "Where ... is she?" he stammered uncertainly as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"I'm right here," Olivia answered in a demeaning tone, "dear." She stepped into view, a sneer already on her lips. "I told you to behave, but you wouldn't."

Tyler's heart sank. Olivia had won. She felt tears welling up in the corners of her eyes as she contemplated her new plight, and, more importantly, what Olivia had threatened to do to Julia and Tracy. He glanced around the room, looking for anything that indicated she might escape Olivia's punishment, and she saw the old woman give her a wink.

Olivia leaned over next to Tyler. "Are you sure you're okay, Vanessa?" she asked, emphasizing the feminine name. She grinned with satisfaction when she saw Tyler wince. "Vanessa is such a pretty girl's name, isn't it?" she whispered to Tyler. "And I'm going to make sure that you're a very pretty, very obedient little girl. And when you get older, I'll make you into whatever I want you to be. I want you to always remember that — I'm in complete control of who — and what — you are!" She was gloating.

"Ms. Carston," the old woman interrupted, sounding completely businesslike. "Anya told me that there were a couple of minor errors on your and your daughter's applications. Since your daughter has to rest a bit, why don't you and I walk over to the office and make sure all the paperwork is in proper order? Anya can stay here to make sure that your daughter is okay."

Olivia nodded. "Yes, I think that would be wise. After Vanessa's fainting spell, I'd like to get her home so she can rest some more." She was almost chortling with joy at her triumph over Tyler.

As soon as the two older women had left, Anya sat down next to the little girl, who was crying. "How could you let her do this to me?" she bawled. "Do you know what she's doing? She threatened Julia and Tracy!"

Anya gave Vanessa a reassuring hug. "It'll be okay. She didn't pull one over on us."

"But ...?" the girl was confused.

Anya smiled. "What's your name?"

"Vanessa Taylor Carston," the girl replied automatically, her eyes widening as she spoke. It was just like before — she knew, with a sickening certainty, that reality had changed.

"But what's your _real_ name?" Anya asked with a smile.

"Tyler Lofton." Vanessa's eyes widened. "How ...?" Her mouth hung open in astonishment. "Last time ...."

Anya patted Vanessa's hands. "I told you, she didn't pull one over on us. Your pass is only for one week."

"One week?" Vanessa said, a spark of hope stirring in her eyes. "And then I change back?" She suddenly realized that the old woman had used the 'paperwork' to allow Anya time to talk alone with Vanessa.

Anya nodded affirmatively. "But you have some very important things to do in that week," she added.

"What things?"

"Normally, when we change reality, everything changes. But this was a very complicated spell, because only parts of reality changed." Anya's enigmatic comment confused the girl.

"I don't understand."

"You were gathering some data, weren't you? As Tyler, I mean?"

Vanessa nodded slowly. "I ... felt like I better protect myself — because some of what that family does is ...."

Anya nodded her understanding. "I know. They play dirty. And you were wise to document things to protect yourself."

"So the files ... still exist?"

"When we changed you, we didn't delete all of Tyler. The files still exist on your computer at work and in the computer at home."

"So I need to get those files, right?"

"Yes," Anya confirmed. "But there's more."

"Oh?"

"How good can you act? Because you're going to have to act like you're a sullen, defeated, angry little girl. Olivia has to be confident that she's winning, and that your will is crumbling. You can't act like you immediately accept the change, or else she'll get suspicious."

"I think I understand." Vanessa had a sudden, horrifying thought. "What about Julia and Tracy? She's going to ...."

Anya smiled. "She's planning to frame Julia for embezzling. I know. It'll take her time to set it up, though, so Julia and Tracy will be safe."

Vanessa's worried look vanished. She trusted Anya and Grandmother to take care of Julia, and to help her out of this mess. She didn't have any choice.

**********

"I'll explain how this will work, so you understand," Olivia glared down at Vanessa, who was seated on a very girlish bed with, as Olivia had threatened, pink and white ruffled linens on a white canopy bed. "First, you will refer to me as 'mother' whenever you speak to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Vanessa answered softly. Olivia held Vanessa's chin so the girl couldn't help but look up at her.

"Yes, what?" Olivia demanded, frowning.

"Yes, ... mother," Vanessa said softly. The way Olivia was holding her chin was painful, and tears formed in the corners of her eyes, adding authenticity to her acting.

Olivia grinned triumphantly. "Second, you will obey me exactly in everything."

"Yes, mother," Vanessa answered again. Tears were starting to stream down her cheeks, but Olivia didn't need to know they were from pain. It would be enough for her to think that Vanessa was crying at her plight.

"You get three strikes. If you disobey more than three times, I _will_ send you to a very strict private boarding school. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mother."

"You will never, ever wear anything that isn't girlish. If you have jeans, they will be very feminine jeans. The same is true for your shirts and blouses. Once a week, we will go shopping for clothes for you, and you will pick out the most feminine looking clothes you can find, and then you'll wear them. Understood?"

"Yes, mother."

"You will not be allowed to have your hair cut shorter than shoulder length, and you will always have a very feminine haircut. As soon as we're done here, we'll go have your ears pierced, and as soon as you can, you'll start wearing very feminine earrings. You will wear a necklace. Once you get a little older, you will wear makeup whenever you can. Understood?"

"Yes, mother." If she hadn't known of the plot, Vanessa would have been crying at how Olivia was intending to humiliate her.

"Every day, you will spend ten minutes in front of a mirror, nude, and during that time, you will repeat over and over that you are a pretty girl and that you love being a pretty girl — loud enough that I can hear you." Olivia was nearly chortling with delight at the tortures she was outlining for her 'girl'. "You'll be on a strict diet to ensure that you always have a slender, girlish figure."

"Yes, mother," Vanessa answered softly. After only a few minutes, it was already becoming automatic to add the word "mother" when she answered Olivia.

"If I catch you doing anything tomboyish, your time in front of the mirror will triple for a week. Understood?"

"Yes, mother."

"Good. When you get older, you'll spend time becoming more intimate with your female body, and learning to love it. I have you enrolled at St. Theresa's school. Your books are on your desk," she tilted her head toward a white desk in a corner, that matched the other furniture. "After dinner, and every school night, you will spend at least one hour with your homework. If you don't have homework, you will spend the time either reviewing your material, or doing get-ahead work."

"Yes, mother."

"Now change for dinner. I want to see you wearing the girliest dress that you have, and I want your hair curled before you come to the table. I'm going to talk to the cook about your dietary needs. After dinner, we'll talk to your nanny about your expected behavior." She let go of Vanessa's chin, stood, and walked to the door. "Dinner will be served in thirty minutes. That gives you time to shower, spend your ten minutes in front of the mirror, get dressed, and get your hair done." She frowned menacingly. "Don't be late. And I want to hear you."

"Yes, mother," Vanessa replied dutifully. She watched Olivia leave the room, and took a moment to consider Olivia's devious scheme. Was she going to program Vanessa to be a Stepford wife? Or was her goal to program her to be a slut? Perhaps she was doing as Ms. Havisham did in Dickens' novel, Great Expectations, and program Vanessa into being a man-hating, cold-hearted bitch — just like she was. Vanessa shuddered inwardly, grateful beyond measure that Anya and the old woman had interrupted Olivia's plans.

**********

Vanessa glanced nervously down the hall, and then slid herself into the chair by the computer desk. Olivia was at the gym, the cook was busy fixing dinner, and her nanny thought that Vanessa was doing homework. She moved the mouse, bring the computer to life from its hibernated state.

She felt her stomach turn when she saw the choices of logins. There was one for the administrator, one for Olivia, and one for "staff", but not one for Tyler. She mentally smacked herself — of course there wouldn't be one for Tyler. In this partial-reality-change, leaving a login for Tyler would have been a tipoff to Olivia that something wasn't quite right.

Vanessa thought quickly. The "staff" login would have very limited access. Olivia was smart enough to have changed her password. That left only the administrator login. Vanessa wished that she'd paid more attention when the technician from the company had installed the computers. He'd told them both the administrator password — if only Vanessa could remember.

Out of the blue, a thought struck him — Olivia had a poor memory for computer things, so she'd probably written down the password somewhere. Vanessa started rifling through the drawers, looking for something — anything — that resembled a password. Two pieces of paper yielded nothing; the computer didn't recognize any of the information as a password.

She stared hopelessly at the monitor, wondering what she was going to do now. She was sunk. In less than twelve hours, she was going to change back, and this was her only chance to get the data. During the past week, she hadn't had any time alone, except at night when she was sleeping.

"Where would she put it?" Vanessa muttered to herself. She struggled to get Tyler's memories; as the week had progressed, under Olivia's regimen of feminine programming and critique, she found it more and more difficult to access his memories as the brainwashing slowly took its toll. She'd even started to despair of remembering _any_ of Tyler's memories when the week ended, or of even getting alone long enough to get the data. She knew that Olivia's program of brainwashing was having its effect; Vanessa didn't know how long she could hold out before she forgot Tyler and was thinking of herself _only_ as a pretty girl.

As she leaned back, sighing heavily in frustration, she suddenly had a flash of recall. She turned the keyboard upside down, and there, as Tyler's memory told her, was taped a password. She quickly memorized the relatively-simple password, then turned the keyboard back over and typed it in.

Vanessa sighed with relief when the computer accepted the password. She pulled a thumb drive from her pocket and inserted it into the USB port, then opened an Explorer window and began to search for the hidden directory. In no more than five minutes, the incriminating data was all copied to the thumb drive. Vanessa took the drive out and logged out of the computer. After standing, she carefully moved everything — keyboard, mouse, monitor, and chair, back to the way they'd been. She eased her way quietly to the door and opened it a crack.

The coast was clear. Vanessa slipped out of the study and tiptoed back down the hall toward her bedroom.

She paled when she heard the tell-tale double-chirp of the house alarm, which was wired to sound an alert whenever a door or window was opened. That could only mean that Olivia was home. She glanced down the hall — if, as usual, Olivia had been at the gym, she'd come directly back to her master suite to shower, which gave Vanessa only a couple of seconds to get to her room. If Olivia caught her running down the hall, she'd be suspicious.

Fighting the panic, Vanessa ducked into her bathroom. She _had_ to find a way to hide the thumb drive; Olivia might decide to have her change outfits on a whim, and the staff would clean up dirty clothes and the bathroom.

"Vanessa!" Olivia called from the hall. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the bathroom, mother," Vanessa answered fearfully. It wasn't an act any longer; Olivia's intimidation tactics were having an effect on the girl. She quickly pulled down her panties, hiked up her dress, and sat on the toilet.

"We're going out for dinner tonight," Olivia directed. "Do your mirror exercises, and then I've got a new outfit for you to wear tonight." Olivia opened the door and glared at the girl. "As soon as you're done, strip down and do your exercises. Then put on this." She hung a very frilly dress on the door. "And I got you a very girly new pair of panties, too."

"Yes, mother," Vanessa replied automatically.

"And I want your hair extra-curly today, understand?"

"Yes, mother."

Olivia closed the door partway so she'd be able to hear Vanessa.

Vanessa breathed a sigh of relief as she flushed the toilet and then slid the thumb drive into the folded pair of new panties on the vanity. Shaking her head sadly, she pulled off her clothes, placed them in a hamper, and stepped before the full-length mirror.

The little girl stood, naked, in front of the mirror, and quickly assumed the posture that Olivia had demanded of her — shoulders squared and back, and chest out. She looked in the mirror. "I am a pretty girl," she began to recite. "I love being a pretty girl." As she repeated the line, over and over, tears started seeping from her eyes. It was humiliating, and it was effective. After a few days, the conditioning had started to take effect. Whenever Vanessa looked in any mirror, she was automatically saying, if only in her mind, "I am a pretty girl. I love being a pretty girl." Slowly, even knowing that it was temporary, Olivia was driving Tyler from Vanessa's mind and molding the little girl into what _she_ wanted.

**********

Just after midnight, Vanessa awoke to a tingling feeling in her body. She bolted upright, and then quickly pulled off the lacy nighty that Olivia was making her wear, before it constricted her body. She felt the tingling running through her body, and as she watched in the ghostly shadows, she could see herself growing bigger. In a minute or two, it was all over, and Tyler sat naked on a little girl's bed.

For a moment, Tyler pondered how he was going to escape the house naked. Then he remembered that the Bikini Beach magic had altered clothing as well. His brow wrinkled; that set of changes was the 'total reality change' that the magic had done. But Anya had said that this change was partial. Would she remember to get him clothes?

He needn't have worried. A set of man's clothes was neatly arranged in the spot where Olivia had set out Vanessa's clothing for tomorrow. Tyler slipped on his clothes, noting with satisfaction that his keys and wallet were in his pants. He carried his shoes; he didn't want any sound on the hardwood floors to tip off Olivia. She'd always been a light sleeper, and he worried that she'd awaken before he could make his escape. In his stocking feet, he cautiously tip-toed through the house, to the door into the garage.

Once more, Tyler winced. The alarm keypad was right there, but he had no idea if Olivia had changed the code. She probably had, just to keep her "daughter" trapped so she couldn't run away. But had the magic changed it back? And Tyler knew that whenever a key was pressed, there was a beep from the system to confirm a key press. One of the control stations was in the master bedroom, and Olivia would hear any beeps.

Tyler had to risk it. When he'd changed to Vanessa, his Lexus vanished. Now that he was back, it might, or might not, be in the garage. The key was certainly in his pocket, so he was confident that the car would be there as well. It was an all-or-nothing gamble; once the alarm controls started to beep, he had only a couple of minutes to get out the door, into a car, and out of the driveway.

Tyler took a deep breath, and then pressed the buttons. As expected, the system beeped, and after he pressed the final key in the sequence, the alarm indicated that it was disarmed. Even as he opened the door, he heard noise in the house, indicating that Olivia was stirring — as expected. He slipped through the door, pulling it shut behind him, and slapped the garage door opener.

Anya was as thorough as she'd promised; his Lexus was in the garage, as he'd hoped. He started it, drove out of the garage, and out onto the street — and freedom. Behind him, he knew that Olivia was going to be screaming in rage — and the thought gave him satisfaction.

**********

The businesswoman stopped by the reception desk. She was very neatly attired — professionally and attractively, and she exuded an air of power. She looked to be about forty, but Tyler knew that she was older. She obviously kept herself in shape physically, and from the stature of her business, mentally as well. She was attractive in the way of an older woman who carried herself with an air of grace and charm. At the moment, however, she also looked very happy at having her day interrupted.

Tyler watched as the security guard pointed his direction. He felt self-conscious in his business-casual attire, especially meeting the woman, as Anya had directed. Still, he didn't have much choice — not yet, anyway.

The businesswoman walked slowly toward him. Tyler knew she was doing a mental assessment of him even as she put a smile on her face. He stood, and when she neared and extended her hand, he shook hands graciously.

"Mister Lofton?" the woman asked.

"Yes," Tyler answered. He was far more nervous than he showed. "Anya and her grandmother suggested that you might be able to help me out."

The woman's face softened at Anya's name. "I'm Ronnie Harris," she replied.

"Yes, I know. Everyone knows who you are."

Ronnie smiled. "The price of success and notoriety, I guess. And I know all about you. Your reputation as a tough, but fair, negotiator precedes you."

Tyler was taken aback. He knew that she'd check on him, but hadn't quite expected her to know as much as she apparently did. "I try."

"And you work for Carston Enterprises," Ronnie continued, "by virtue of your marriage to Olivia Carston."

"Soon to be former marriage," Tyler answered.

Ronnie's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

"Perhaps we should talk somewhere a little less ... public?" Tyler suggested.

Ronnie nodded. "Why don't we go up to my office and continue this discussion."

Ronnie didn't press any more discussion in the elevator, nor when they walked into the outer office. "Sarah," she addressed a very professional — and competent — looking secretary busily typing at her computer, "could you get coffee for Mr. Lofton and myself?"

Sarah nodded simply and turned from her computer. With the secretary following, Ronnie led Tyler into her office.

Tyler's eyes widened as he took in her office. He'd seen wealth and power displayed at the Carston Enterprises headquarters, but even the most lavish Carston office paled in comparison to Ronnie's. Behind her large solid-wood desk, large windows gave a stunning view of downtown, with the seashore and the marina in the background. A couple of small palm trees framed the window. One wall was filled with a bookcase, with impressive keepsakes, busts, and leather-bound books arranged attractively. Opposite the bookcase, two doors led to what Tyler guessed were a bathroom and a private apartment. All the furniture, from the massive chair behind the desk, to the smaller chairs in front of it, and the informal sofa and wing chairs, were covered in burgundy leather.

"Have a seat, Mister Lofton," Ronnie indicated the casual sitting area. She gracefully sat in one of the wing chairs.

Tyler sat on the sofa, feeling very self-conscious. Ronnie's suit was exquisitely tailored, in marked contrast to his casual pants and short-sleeve shirt. "Thank you."

"Would you care for coffee, tea, or a soft drink?" the secretary asked.

"Right now," Tyler admitted, "I think I'd prefer a 7-up."

Ronnie laughed lightly. "I take it you're a bit nervous?"

"It's not every day that one meets with the head of a major business, such as yourself," Tyler replied.

"And yet, you dealt with the upper management of Carston Enterprises for years," Ronnie countered.

Tyler smiled. "Touche."

"So tell me, why would the owner of my favorite water park — and a personal friend - call me and ask me for a favor in meeting with you?" Ronnie asked bluntly.

"She ... called you?" Tyler stammered.

Ronnie smiled. "How about if you start at the beginning?" she prompted. "And, just in case you're wondering if your tale would be unbelievable, I _do_ happen to know how ... magical ... the park can be."

Twenty minutes later, Ronnie took another sip of coffee. "What do you need from me?" she asked, blunt again.

Tyler was taken aback — again. "To tell you the truth," he admitted softly, "I'm not really sure."

Ronnie laughed. "Honesty. I like that." She set her coffee cup down. "Okay, let's start with the easy one. In my opinion, you need to take that thumb drive to the district attorney." She saw Tyler's eyes widen, and she nodded. "It's been very strongly rumored, in the business world, that Carston was skating on the edge of the law, if not breaking it. If what you say is true, and you have documentation of it, as you say, the DA needs to know."

Tyler winced visibly. "They ... have a reputation for, um, getting even."

Ronnie nodded. "Which is why you need to go to the DA. You might want to send a copy of the data to the Securities and Exchange Commission and the federal prosecutor's office, too — just in case the DA is a friend of Carston."

"All I want to do is get away from Olivia, so she can't hurt me — or Julia — anymore."

"She's a first-class bitch," Ronnie's expression wasn't polite. "And that's the most polite thing I can say about her." She sighed. "If you want to get out from under her thumb, you need to make sure she has no power. The only way to do that is to take away her money — and her power will evaporate with it."

"That sounds pretty ... ruthless."

Ronnie nodded. "And what are they? Marshmallows?" She shook her head. "You're dealing with a family that's as close to a crime family as we have. They wrote the book on ruthless. You know that Olivia will use any resources at her disposal to get even. She won't give up."

Tyler nodded sadly. "I know."

"Second, as a favor to Grandmother and Anya, I can have my lawyers draw up divorce papers for you. With my name behind it, I don’t think she'd dare fight."

"I'd be in your debt if you could help."

Ronnie smiled. "It's a favor, remember?"

"Thank you," Tyler said simply.

"To be honest," Ronnie continued, "I'd love to hire you on my team. But I can't. Not if things go to the DA and the SEC. It would look pretty ... fishy. And you've probably got a non-compete clause in effect."

Tyler laughed. "Yeah, that's what I figured. That's why I didn't ask for a job. Besides, I've stashed away quite a bit from Olivia's 'allowance' that I can go several months before I need a job."

**********

Olivia stormed into the office, her face a mask of rage. "What did you do with her? Where is my Vanessa?" she demanded of Grandmother even before the old woman could speak. "You ... she ..." She was speechless in her anger.

Grandmother gestured to a chair. "Sit down," she ordered. She didn't move from her 'power position' behind her desk.

Olivia glared at her, then slowly took a seat opposite the old woman's desk.

Grandmother gestured toward Anya. "You know my granddaughter, Anya?" she prompted.

"Yes." Olivia's glare was even harsher. "Now what did you do with my daughter?"

Grandmother smiled. "If you mean your former husband, Tyler, then I assure you that he's just fine."

"I paid for a lifetime membership! You didn't follow through on your end of the contract!" Olivia snarled.

"You tried to use my magic for your own perverse ends," Grandmother retorted, her voice even and unnaturally calm. "I don't like it when people try to pull one over on me."

"You're in breach of a contract," Olivia said accusingly. "I'll have my lawyers ...."

Grandmother's smile was unnerving. "Oh, please do! There's nothing I like more than making monkeys out of lawyers. First of all, I think you'll find that all your lawyers — and your company's lawyers — are suddenly extremely busy with other things. Second, I dare you to try to convince a lawyer to argue that I breached a contract to _magically_ turn your husband into a six-year-old girl. Third, based on what I was told, your conduct toward 'Vanessa' could easily be considered child abuse, and I don't think you would dare have _that_ exposed in court."

"What ... what do you want?" Olivia was rattled; her voice was wavering and uncertain.

"It's not what I want," Grandmother said simply. She pushed a button on her phone. "Come in, please."

The door opened, and Olivia paled. "What ...? What's going on?" she stammered, for once at a loss for words.

"Simple," Tyler said as he strode easily across the office and sat casually. "I'm done with you and your meddling and controlling attitude." He was carrying a plain folder.

"We have .... You can't ...."

Tyler smiled pleasantly. "You'll sign these divorce papers," he said as he handed Olivia the folder. "And you'll sign a consent decree that you won't interfere in any way with Julia, myself, or Tracy."

"So, it's about your little slut," Olivia hissed.

Tyler didn't let himself be rattled. He pulled a thumb drive from his pocket and held it for Olivia to see. "You can do this the easy way, or you can do it the hard way. The easy way is to sign the papers, and I give you this. The hard way is to fight, in which case I give this data to the district attorney and the federal prosecutor." He smiled. "You see, over the years, I've been collecting data about how your family operates their businesses. On this thumb drive are files that personally implicate you."

Olivia was white as a sheet. "That's ... blackmail. You'd threaten my entire family ... and our businesses ... for _her_?"

Tyler grinned. "You misunderstand. The data about your family's business has already gone to the DA and the federal prosecutor, and the SEC. That data doesn't tie you in to what will, according to the DA, be a rather large scandal and prosecution." He waved the thumb drive. "This data _does_ tie you in - personally. So, you give me what I want, and I give you the thumb drive, and you get to escape direct implication in the ... mess."

Olivia glared at Tyler for several long seconds, before she took the folder. After a cursory examination of the papers, she pulled a pen from her purse, signed and dated the documents, and put them back in the folder.

Tyler took the folder. "Thank you," he said simply. Even after what she'd done to him, his words were kind and non-judgmental. He handed her the thumb drive, and then rose and walked out of the office, a happy smile on his face and a bounce in his step, both of which had been missing from his life for far longer than he could remember.

"Why?" Olivia angrily demanded. "Why did you get involved? It wasn't any of your business."

"It became my business when you tried to use my park's magic," she said. "You paid to exact your own perverse type of justice on a man who tried, desperately, to love you and be loved by you. Instead," she continued, "you treated him as a toy, a plaything, a man whose spirit you could crush for your own sadistic pleasure."

"And you took delight in taking away the one source of refuge he had, the one woman who gave him the love he so needed and deserved," Anya added. Her tone wasn't pleasant. "You couldn't be happy, so you wanted to make sure he shared your misery."

"He ... he ... he cheated on me!" Olivia tried to protest.

"Only after you pushed him away," Grandmother retorted angrily.

"He took everything from me!" Olivia complained. "With the investigations, my family will lose everything."

"Your ex didn't take everything," Anya countered. "Even after everything you did to him, he was generous enough to not implicate you directly. He let you avoid prosecution, and possibly prison."

Grandmother watched as Anya's words sank into Olivia. She'd never considered just how generous Tyler had been all these years. "Now, leave, please," Grandmother said insistently. "I have a business to run, and I'm through dealing with you and your petty childishness. I don't want to _ever_ see you at my park again."

**********

Grandmother gave Julia a hug, and then repeated the gesture for Tyler, who stood next to her. "This is such a wonderful day for the two of you," she said, smiling.

Julia, in a flowing white wedding dress, beamed with joy. She had one arm around Tyler's waist, as if she was never going to let go of him again. "Thank you. Thank you for all your help." Around them, the wedding guests were talking and enjoying themselves as the reception continued noisily and happily.

Grandmother smiled. "It was my pleasure."

Ronnie Harris joined Grandmother congratulating the newlyweds. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Tyler said warmly. "I appreciate your advice."

Ronnie smiled. "Actually, when I gave you the advice, I had ulterior motives."

"Oh?" Tyler's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Was it so you could leverage a buyout of Carston?"

Ronnie shook her head, still smiling. "No, that was just a fortunate opportunity. Actually, I was hoping I could convince you to bring your talents to work for me."

Tyler was even more surprised. "You know I just got a job with a consulting firm, right?"

Ronnie nodded. "I know. But why don't you schedule an appointment and we'll see if we can do something better? I know that, with a new family, you won't want to be traveling so much, and I think I can make a better offer. I'm going to have a lot of work negotiating how to absorb the parts of Carston that I want to keep, and spinning off those parts that don’t' fit my core business."

Tyler glanced at Julia, then he smiled at Ronnie. "I'll make sure to get an appointment as soon as we get back from our honeymoon."

"Good. And again, congratulations." Ronnie gave Tyler and Julia hugs. She lightly touched Grandmother's elbow. "If you've got a minute, I'd like to talk to you about developing some of the acreage around the park." Suddenly talking business, Ronnie and Grandmother moved toward the refreshments.

It was Anya's turn to hugged Julia. "Congratulations," Anya said enthusiastically. "I know you two ... er, three ... will be very happy."

"Thank you." Julia bent a little closer to Anya. "And it's not the three of us," she whispered.

Anya's eyes widened. "You mean ... you're ...?"

Julia grinned. "Tracy is going to have a little sister."

"Congratulations!" Anya hugged Julia. "I know you're going to be very happy." She paused. "How far along are you?" she asked, glancing at Julia's figure. Julia wasn't showing.

"Only about eight weeks," Julia answered. "And in answer to your second question, we know it's going to be a girl because Grandmother told us."

Anya glanced around, and shot her grandmother a quick, disapproving look. She turned quickly back to Julia. "She didn't tell me."

Julia shrugged. "I guess you'll have to take that up with her. When I talked to her, you were in Miami at a trade show."

"Oh."

"And she told me more." Julia's voice lowered. "She let me see the magic, so I know what Olivia did to Tyler that first week."

Tyler nodded. "Julia knows that I learned a lot about myself, and found something that I'd been missing for years. Olivia didn't know it, but when she tried to punish me that week I was Trinity, she helped me learn to stand up for myself again."

"I'm glad," Anya said. "So, have you started thinking about names yet?"

Tyler glanced at Julia just as she glanced at him. Both were smiling. "Trinity," Julia and Tyler answered together. "Trinity Marie Lofton."

FIN

A young man enjoys being on the cheer squad, but it causes him a lot of social problems. A friend suggests that maybe, if he wants to continue as a cheerleader, Bikini Beach could help out.

This is a brand new, never-before-published Bikini Beach story. It's the first of several in my writing queue. I hope you enjoy.

My eternal gratitude to Ellie Dauber for helping me refine Grandmother's character. Sir Lee helped immensely with editing and story suggestions.

**********

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Will Harding closed his eyes and took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself for something. Opening his eyes, he pushed on the door into the boys' locker room and stepped boldly inside, or at least as boldly as his average frame and wire-rim glasses would allow when entering the domain of muscle-bound football jocks.

The noise from the locker room was boisterous as the young men from the team changed into their practice uniforms. One of them, Chip Monroe, the captain of the defensive unit, noticed Will stepping to his locker.

"Oh, look, guys!" he yelled. "The cheerleader is here!"

"Did you come to see what real men look like, sissy boy?" another boy taunted.

Will felt his cheeks burning. He had known that the teasing was coming; after all, he'd already put up with the ridicule for over two months, ever since cheerleading practice had started this past summer — about the same time as football practice had begun.

As Will pulled on his running pants, another boy couldn't help adding to the taunting. "Don't forget to put on your makeup!"

Will closed his eyes for a moment, counting to ten. Not that losing his temper would do any good; in the first week, when he'd protested their teasing, he'd ended up stuffed in a locker, given a wedgie, and suffered several other indignities. Even the place kicker would have been able to beat Will to a pulp.

"Are you girls going shopping after practice?"

"Oh, shopping! I bet he finds some fabulous new pumps to match his dress!"

"You're wearing a cup? You're kidding! For cheerleading?"

"Maybe it's to look a little more manly downstairs!"

Will shook his head sadly as the team continued to have fun at his expense. They'd never been accidentally kicked in the groin by cheerleaders slipping during acrobatic maneuvers. The cup was _very_ necessary, just like it was to the football players. But they would never understand. Will pulled on a plain gray T-shirt and walked out of the locker room, letting the door shut behind him to silence the taunts.

As he neared the area where the cheerleaders were already practicing, Will sighed again. He was late — again, thanks to a teacher who insisted that _he_ stay after chemistry class to clean up some of the mess left by the jocks. After all, they had _real_ practice.

"You're late!" the cheerleader coach, Paula Young, yelled.

"I had to …." Will started to protest. He hated arguing with the coach, especially since his parents had taught him to show respect to authority figures.

The other reason was that Coach Young was in her late twenties, and very attractive. She wore her auburn hair in a ponytail that seemed to dance tantalizingly whenever she was demonstrating moves or working out. She wore a tight spandex top, which accentuated the fact that the only areas that looked like they weren't muscle were positioned very strategically on her chest. Her very shapely rear attracted stares like moths to a flame. She was also very strict with her cheerleaders. "I don't care why you're late. Get your ass in gear and get to it!"

Will Harding was the only boy on the cheer squad. He had no interest in playing football or basketball, but he really enjoyed cheerleading. Of course, that led to seemingly endless taunting and teasing. After all, the other boys thought, only a sissy would want to be a cheerleader.

Will worked harder than any of the girls; he had to. As the only guy, he was always doing lifts and catches, which required timing and strength on his part. He sighed to himself between routines; the football jocks would have been stunned at how much strength and coordination it really took to do the acrobatic routines. It took a lot of practice with the girls to get the routines down so they looked easy.

After a long practice session, with a couple of new routines, the coach dismissed the cheerleaders. The girls headed immediately for their locker room to change. Will, however, sat down to rest and to drink some water. It was obviously a stall tactic to avoid yet another confrontation with the jocks.

Coach Young noticed. She walked over and sat next to Will. "Good workout," she complimented him as she sat down. "You work pretty hard at this."

Will snorted. "Yeah. For all _that_ matters."

"More teasing?" Coach Young knew that Will had been teased mercilessly by some of the football team in the past. In fact, many of the non-athlete male students taunted and harassed Will as well over his cheerleading.

"Yeah." Will glanced up at the coach. "You aren't going to … report it, are you? You know what they'll do to me if you do." He sounded like he was pleading.

"No," Coach Young answered easily.

Will looked at the coach, his eyes full of gratitude.

Damn, he thought, she looks so good. Coach Paula was quite attractive in an athletic way. Fit, trim, she had moderate breasts that appeared to have not a millimeter of sag. Her abdomen was perfectly flat, as he'd seen occasionally when she demonstrated a move to the girls and her shirt had lifted. When she wasn't coaching, her hair was layered playfully. In short, she was very sexy. Will swallowed hard and thought about his math class so he wouldn't get hard looking at her.

"Thanks - for trying to understand." He sighed, tossed his water cup in the trash, and stood up. "I guess I can't put this off any longer."

"You aren't thinking about quitting, are you?" the coach asked bluntly. She had a habit of getting straight to the point.

Will gulped; somehow, she knew exactly what he was thinking. "I don't think so," he replied without enthusiasm. "I really like cheering. It's … fun. But ...." He didn't need to complete the sentence.

"Well," the coach said as she stood up, "just keep that in mind and try to ignore them." Her towel slipped off her shoulder, and she automatically bent over to pick it up.

Will felt himself getting aroused as he got a view down her blouse at her firm, creamy breasts. "Okay." He turned and walked slowly back to the boys' locker before he got even more embarrassed at being turned on by the coach.

**********

"Wait up!"

Will halted mid-stride and turned to see who was calling him. Sure enough, he _had_ recognized the voice as belonging to Lana Nguyen, his very good friend since they were in grade school. Lana wasn't on the cheer squad, but she was very supportive of Will's choice of extra-curricular activities. They'd been friends for nearly ten years.

"Practice was tough, wasn't it?" Lana said as she reached his side. Lana was a very attractive Vietnamese girl, with straight black hair hanging down to the small of her back, and almond-shaped eyes. She had not an ounce of extra fat on her. She somehow managed to make even plain clothes look glamorous.

Will resumed walking, now with Lana beside him. "Tougher than most people know," he said morosely.

Lana flinched at the tone of his voice. "They were bad again?"

"It was pretty bad." He sighed. "I don't know if I can keep doing this."

"Sure, you can," Lana said cheerfully.

Will sighed again. The one problem with Lana was that she was always so darned cheerful. He'd never seen her angry or down. If only he could learn the secret of her perpetual cheery mood. "I wish. It's so hard to listen to that, day after day. They have no idea how much work it is or how physical cheering is."

"Maybe they're jealous because you spend more time around the cheerleaders," Lana suggested. "Did you think of that?"

"Hmmph!" Will snorted. "All the girls are interested in is the jocks on the field. They don't pay much attention to me."

"Well, they don't know what they're missing, then."

Will wished that Lana wasn't going steady with Trevor Powell. They'd been friends for too long for him to realize that she was growing into a beauty, and by the time he _had_ noticed, it was too late. She and Trevor had been dating for over a year. Will, on the other hand, had no one. He'd been on only one date, and that had been a disaster. Will knew that his lack of social life was partly due to his being on the cheer squad. It actually hurt his social standing, because most guys thought it was gay, and girls acted as if he _was_ gay.

The walk home was short, so Will bade Lana good-bye with a wave as he walked toward his house. From the cars in the driveway, he knew that his parents were home early. "Great," Will thought to himself. "Another fun evening with super-jock little brother being babied." Will deeply resented the fact that his brother got away with practically everything because he was on the Freshman football team. Will was a Junior, and was merely a cheerleader, which wasn't as important in the eyes of his dad.

The trouble started the moment he walked in the door. He hadn't even dropped his backpack when his dad called to him. "Will? Your mom needs help with dinner."

"Aw, Dad!" Will complained, knowing it would do no good but needing to try. "I've got homework."

"You can do it later. Help your mom."

"Why can't Aiden help out?" Will complained.

"He's studying," his dad replied without looking up.

"Bullshit!" Will swore. "He's just playing his computer games again!"

Will's dad looked up from his computer. "Enough of that language, young man! Now go help your mother, or you'll find yourself grounded!"

Will sighed as he dropped his backpack. He trudged slowly to the kitchen, where his mom was busy trying to get something organized for dinner. With both parents working, and both boys in extra-curricular activities, dinner was always last-minute and hectic.

"Hi, mom," he said without enthusiasm as he trudged into the kitchen. "What can I do to help?"

Will's mom looked up from her task. "Hi, sweetie. How was your day?"

Will snorted derisively. He wished she wouldn't call him "sweetie." It sounded so ... feminine, so unmanly. "Same as usual. It sucked."

Mom flinched. She'd noticed that Will's enthusiasm was waning. "I take it practice didn't go well?"

Will walked to the freezer to get a package of vegetables. "Practice was fine. It's all the other crap that I could do without." He dropped the package of frozen peas on the counter and searched for a pan. "I think I'm going to quit."

"Oh?" Mom was surprised. "I didn't think it was that bad. Can't the coach do anything?"

"Mom," Will tried to explain as he put water in the pan, "last time she tried, I got the crap beat out of me! I asked her _not_ to do anything."

"But … you love cheer squad!"

Will nodded sadly. " I can't take much more of the harassment. I think I'm going to quit after Friday's game."

"Don't make any decisions in haste," Mom cautioned. "You might want to wait a bit."

"Why? It's not like it's going to get any better! No one has any respect for what I do. Not even Dad! He acts like it's some sissy thing, and he favors Aiden!" Will had tried to control his bitterness, but he failed.

Will didn't get along with his dad. Dad had been a star athlete in high school, and, after college, had become a sales manager in a hardware distributing company. While Will was a good student, his interests lay more in languages — he was taking two foreign language electives at Central. Dad seemed to hold those interests in contempt, and it often showed in his attitude toward Will, or so it seemed.

"Will, don't talk like that! You know your dad cares about you!" She didn't sound entirely convincing.

Will _did_ get along with his mother. She worked as a paralegal in a very good law firm, where her fluency in Spanish made her a valuable employee. She understood Will's interests, and thus was sympathetic to him.

"I doubt it. It's like he's reliving his past through Aiden!" Will sighed as he poured the frozen peas into the pan on the stove. "I can't measure up to what _he_ wants to relive, so I'm not important!"

"That's not true."

"That's what it feels like."

"I'll talk to your dad again tonight," she promised.

"I'm not going to hold my breath," Will retorted. "It's never gotten me more than a few days of relief in the past."

His mother smiled. "I can always resort to more … persuasive measures," she said with a wink.

Will felt his stomach churn at the implications of his mother's statement. He _knew_ what she was talking about, and it seemed … wrong.

**********

Will walked with Lana, as usual, on the way home from school. She stayed late for band practice, while he was in cheerleading practice. It was convenient that they could walk to and from school together. They'd been friends, and Lana's cheery mood always seemed to relieve Will's stress. Today, another of the cheerleaders was with them. Nichole Jackson was spending a couple of days staying with Lana because her parents had a family emergency out of town.

"You're really getting that new toss down," Nichole commented cheerfully to Will as they walked. She turned to Lana. "You should see it — it's going to be awesome. And Will is a great catcher!"

Lana laughed. "You're just saying that because he's saving your butt from hitting the turf."

"Well, that, too!" Nichole grinned. She glanced at Will and saw that he was silently staring at the ground ahead of them.

Lana had noticed Will's funk. "How about if we get some ice cream on the way home? I'm feeling a bit in need of chocolate."

Will tried to smile. "You're always in the mood for chocolate."

"Okay, it's settled. We'll stop by Marble Slab, then," Nichole announced.

"A coconut cream shake will cheer you up," Lana said in an effort to cheer up Will.

Fifteen minutes later, the three were sitting in a booth, enjoying their ice cream, or, in Will's case, at least as much as his depressed mood would allow.

"Hi, Nichole." The voice was too familiar to Will; Chip and a few of the jocks had the same idea about a quick stopover.

Nichole looked up, and she almost visibly melted a Chip's impressive physical appearance and the attention he was paying to her. "Hi, Chip," she cooed.

"Are you girls ready for the game Friday night?" he asked, pointedly glancing at Will when he said the word "girls".

Will felt his muscles tense and his jaw clench.

Nichole didn't notice; she was too busy staring dreamy-eyed at Chip. "We'll be cheering while you guys win," she practically purred. Chip had recently broken up with his girlfriend, and it was obvious that Nichole wanted to take her place.

Chip smiled. "Are you doing anything after the game? Some of the guys on the team were thinking the cheerleaders would like to help us celebrate after we win. We're planning a little get-together at Scott's house. Snacks, a movie, music — you know."

Nichole smiled, trying to look like she wasn't as eager as she really was. "I'd love to go," she answered.

Chip smiled again, and then turned to rejoin his buddies.

Will shook his head sadly. "See what I mean?" he asked Lana. "And that was mild."

Lana nodded. "They're pretty mean. What are you going to do? You love being part of the cheer squad."

Nichole had broken her reverie at Chip's attention. "We _need_ you on the squad. You're the only one who can do some of the lifts and catches!"

Will looked sullen. "I'm getting really tired of the abuse," he commented. "And you girls will come up with other routines if I'm not there." He rested his forehead on his interlocked hands, with his elbows resting on the table and his eyes closed. "I can't take any more of their crap." He sighed heavily. "I wish there was a way I could be on the squad and not feel like an outcast."

After they'd finished their various treats, Lana walked home with Will. When she was sure that there were no snooping ears, she asked Will, "Were you serious when you said you wished there was a way to be a cheerleader and fit in?"

Will frowned. "Yeah. Why?" The question seemed odd.

"What if I told you that there might be a way? Are you interested?" Lana continued.

"Well, yeah," Will retorted. "But …." He saw Lana's expression. "What?"

"You don't have practice Saturday, do you?" she asked.

"Of course not, but we've got some family activities. Sunday is free, though."

Lana smiled. "Good. I'll pick you up about ten Sunday morning. Bring your swim trunks."

"Huh? You're not making any sense." Will thought about the weekend. "Better make it noon." He seemed resigned to following Lana's direction, whether he knew what she needed or not.

Lana smiled. "You'll understand Sunday." She turned toward her house, but glanced over her shoulder. "I'll see you at school tomorrow, and then we'll see if we can't help you out this weekend.

**********

"Ready?" Lana's voice was eager and happy — as usual. She acted as if she didn't have some sort of mysterious ‘help' for Will.

Will opened the door of Lana's car and slid into the passenger seat. "I suppose." He started buckling his seat belt. "I'd be happier if I knew exactly _what_ you have in mind."

"Sometimes, you need a little surprise to … shake things up." She put the car in drive and guided the car out of the driveway.

As they pulled into the parking lot, Will's jaw dropped. "Okay, so you brought me to a water park. A water park named Bikini Beach, which, from the looks of it, is full of mostly women. So how is this going to help me?"

Lana smiled as if she knew something that she wasn't going to reveal. "You'll have to trust me on this." She parked the car and got out.

Will followed, and the two walked to the ticket booth. Lana smiled at the young lady working. "Hi."

The girl looked up from her magazine. This late in the day, in early autumn, there weren't many customers, and she looked a little bored. "How can I help you?"

"My friend needs a pass."

"Okay," the girl said. "One day? Since it's after lunch, we have a bit of a discount. "

Lana shook her head. "No, I think we need two weeks."

The girl shrugged. "No problem. And for you?"

Lana smiled. "I'm a lifetime member, thank you." She glanced at Will. "My mom gave it to me for my birthday last year."

The girl quoted a price. Will frowned, but Lana simply smiled and said, "Pay the girl."

Will gave Lana a questioning look, but he pulled out his wallet and paid. "Only because we're friends and I trust you," he commented.

The girl took Will's name, and then entered some data in her computer. In seconds, a plastic card was printed for him. "I hope you have fun. Remember to shower before you go into the park. Health department regulations, you know." She smiled. "And remember, the rides start closing at six thirty."

Will was puzzled by what was happening. Nonetheless, he followed Lana's instructions to change and shower. As he stepped into the shower, he wondered exactly what was going on. A visit to a water park might be a fun way to de-stress, but how was it going to help his social issues?

Will felt the warm, massaging spray, and felt the tension flowing from his body. It was soothing and invigorating at the same time. He barely noticed the mist from the shower — certainly not enough to notice that it had turned a faint pink.

**********

Lana smiled to herself as she heard the scream from the men's locker. The door opened, and a confused girl stepped out into the sunlight, her eyes wide with fright. She had her arm clutched across her chest to hide her breasts.

As Lana stepped toward the girl, she saw an older woman — the owner, from what she remembered - step briskly toward the semi-nude girl. She said a few words that Lana couldn't hear, and she produced a matching bikini top from seemingly nowhere. The girl stared at the top like it was a snake.

"I'll help," Lana volunteered as she neared the two. With the old woman's approving nod, Lana took the bikini top and tied it on the girl.

The old woman nodded approvingly. "That's much better. Now I bet you have a ton of questions."

The girl nodded, her eyes still wide with fear. "That's an understatement."

"Well, Billi, this park is magic. It's intended as a safe haven for women, so the magic changes men."

"Like me?" Billi asked. Her eyes widened at the sound of her own voice. "And why did you call me Billi?"

Lana smiled. "I'm guessing that, in the altered reality, your name _is_ Billi — spelled with an ‘i' like a girl's name." She glanced at the old woman. "Right?"

The old woman nodded. "Yes. Why don't you try it? What's your name?"

Billi frowned. "That's simple. I'm Billi Renee Harding." Her eyes widened as she spoke her name. "That's not right. I'm not Billi, I'm Billi!" She shook her head. "What's going on? Why can't I say my own name?"

"That _is_ your name, at least the way things have changed." She frowned at Lana. "You really should have warned Will of what was going to happen. In Will's case, it was rude." From her words, Lana and Billi both knew she disapproved of how Lana had surprised Billi with the change.

"So what happens now?" Billi asked. "Am I stuck like this?" She sounded frightened.

"You'll be a girl for the duration of your pass. In your case, that's the midnight Saturday, in two weeks."

"Fourteen days — as a girl?"

The old woman gave Lana a disapproving glance. "I have a park to run. Lana, you brought Billi into this, so obviously you know something about how the magic works." She turned back to Billi. "The magic gives you the skills to handle being a girl. A lot of the normal routine will seem second-nature. Slowly, you'll find yourself gaining memories from this current reality. I expect that Lana will be helping you as needed for the next two weeks." She said the last part while glaring at Lana, making it abundantly clear how she felt.

Lana gulped - she realized how _much_ the old woman disapproved of what she'd done. She also understood that it was her responsibility to look after the new girl. "I understand."

The old woman smiled pleasantly at Billi, and then turned to return to her duties.

Billi looked Lana, her eyes full of uncertainty. Billi was a cute girl, Lana observed. She had soft blue eyes accentuating her attractive face. Her brown hair was just past shoulder length, swept to one side and held behind her ear, and the ends curled under just a bit, with just a few ends trimmed to give a slight bit of layering. Billi was tanned, but not too much, and with her flat tummy, modest, perky breasts, and rounding hips, she had a figure that was sure to be a magnet for guys. Her body was well toned, like that of an athlete.

Lana gulped. She actually felt jealous of Billi's figure! Then she realized something else. She was remembering a different past. "She wasn't kidding about the memories. Do you remember when you were selected to be a cheerleader?"

Billi started to speak, but then her eyes widened. "It's … not real! I wasn't selected — it was automatic because I was the only guy, and Coach needed me. But I remember the tryouts, and beating Shelly and Deb for the final spot." She shook her head. "I remember that Shelly is still pissed at me, but Deb didn't take it personally, and she's a good friend." She shook her head. "This is too weird!"

"Yeah," Lana agreed.

"Why?" Billi asked. "Why did you do this?"

Lana sighed. "I wanted to help my best friend," she answered. "I knew how much you loved being on cheer squad, and I didn't like seeing you hurt. I thought that, maybe, if you were a girl, you'd fit in better and have more fun."

Billi nodded. "I appreciate that you tried. But this?" She shook her head. "This is a bit much, isn't it?"

Lana bit her lip. "Yeah, maybe." She perked up. "But since we're here, let's go have some fun."

**********

Billi was nervous as she stepped into the men's locker room. She'd experienced part of the changes — some memories of being a girl occasionally flitted into her mind as she and Lana had played in the water park, but she had no idea of what awaited her from there. How far did the changes go? What was she going to find at home? For that matter, what was she going to find in her locker?

The surprises began with her underwear. Will had plain boxers. Billi hoped for something similarly plain. She found, to her dismay, a lacy pink bikini-cut panty. With no other choice, Billi stepped into the underwear, and found herself almost delighted at how silky smooth the fabric felt against her body. As she pulled them up and automatically adjusted the waistband, she remembered when she'd bought them, and the ‘discussion' she'd had with her mother about growing up, and wanting to feel sexy and attractive. Billi felt a shiver run down her spine; it was another of those shadowy, phantom memories that wasn't real, but felt like it was.

Somehow, Billi knew that her bra came next, and, as she expected, it matched her panty. It was lacy and daring, and as she fastened it, she knew it was a push-up bra, making her bust look larger and more alluring than it already was. She marveled for a moment at how the bra pushed her breasts up and inward, yielding an inviting valley of cleavage. Without realizing she was doing it, she stepped to a mirror and posed, turning from side to side, eyeing her figure critically. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she recoiled in horror.

Billi retreated to her locker and pulled out her shirt. It was a simple knit shirt, in scarlet, that clung tightly to her trim figure, showing off her curves. Its low scoop neckline revealed the cleavage that her bra had enhanced. Finally, she pulled out her pants. To her surprise, they were tight, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. Billi was more surprised when she knew how to wiggle into them, how to breathe deeply so that she could fasten the waistband.

A pair of casual flats completed her ensemble, and then Billi retrieved her purse. Without thinking, she opened it and pulled out a hair brush. Before she knew what she was doing, she was back in front of the mirror untangling her hair. Once that was done, she paused, contemplating whether she should touch up her makeup, or worry about that later, since she and Lana were going straight home. She shuddered when she realized that she was even considering makeup, and she put it away.

She turned to leave, and again, caught a glance at her figure in the mirror. It was like her body was on autopilot. She smiled to herself. She was attractive. And even though Billi knew it was wrong, that she was really Will inside, she found herself pleased at how she looked.

Outside, Lana was waiting. "What took so long?" Lana asked as they began walking across the lot toward Lana's car.

Billi shrugged. "I guess I'm not used to getting dressed — as a girl, I mean."

Lana glanced again. "You … didn't just comb your hair out, did you?" she asked, astonished.

"Um, no," Billi replied hesitantly. "I felt like I was supposed to do it, and … it just happened."

"This is spooky," Lana said.

Billi laughed half-heartedly. "You're telling me? You're not on the receiving end of the magic! It's kind of freaky to think that you need to comb your hair, and then you find yourself blow drying and brushing it!"

**********

"How was the park, dear?" Billi's mom asked as she closed the door. "Did you and Lana have fun?"

Billi breathed a little sigh of relief. Her mom didn't seem to think anything was unusual. "Yeah, it was a blast! Lana wants to go again next weekend."

"Sounds like fun. Maybe I should skip out on my chores and come with you girls!" she said with a laugh. "I need a break every once in a while."

Billi about choked. It was weird enough being at the park and changing into a girl — temporarily. But if her mom went back, she'd change in the same locker with her mom- and see her mom … nude? That was a creepy thought. At the same time, another voice inside Billi said it was perfectly normal for women to change in the same locker room.

"By the way, Jeff called. He said he'd call back."

Billi's eyes widened. Why would Jeff Lowery call her? They didn't share many classes, and she wasn't in band like he was? For a minute, she had a memory that she was Jeff's girlfriend, and that made Billi flinch. She _couldn't be Jeff's girlfriend! "He could have called my cell," Billi replied quickly.

Mom smiled. "He did. You forgot your cell phone this morning - again."

"Oh, yeah. I … uh, forgot to plug it in last night, so I had to leave it on the charger."

Mom laughed. "Sometimes, you don't seem to be thinking — except about boys!"

"I do _not_ spend all my time thinking about boys!" Billi protested, crossing her arms under her breasts and pouting.

"If you say so." Mom decided not to continue the discussion. "I need you to help get dinner ready."

"Why is it always me? Why can't Aiden help tonight?" Some things hadn't changed.

"He spent most of the day over at Troy's house working on their Biology project, and now he's studying."

"No, he didn't," Billi countered. "You know very well that they spent the day playing computer games, and now he's playing more upstairs!" Billi read her mom's expression. "Okay, I'll help. But he's doing dishes, isn't he?"

It was after seven-thirty when Billi got to her room. Fortunately, Aiden had gotten stuck with cleanup — for once - leaving Billi free to do her own homework for Monday — and to call Jeff.

Billi knew there would be changes in her room; after all, reality itself had changed with her. It wasn't surprising that her room now had a feminine touch. It was neat! No messy piles of clothes, and her bed was neatly made. She closed the door and looked around slowly, almost reverently. The bed was covered by a pastel rose bedspread that matched the lacy curtains, and complemented the pink floral wallpaper. Rose and white throw pillows accented the bed.

As her eyes slowly took in the changes to her room, she saw a large dresser beside a matching vanity with its large, well-lit makeup mirror. Where the vanity stood used to be Will's stereo. Her stereo, by contrast, was a simple combination radio and CD player that sat on one bed table. There was a neat stack of CDs next to the player; Billi did _not_ want to look at the music for fear of what she'd find.

Her closet doors were closed; out of curiosity, she opened them and stared wide-eyed at the assortment of clothes. Casual dresses, blouses, a couple of skirts, a couple of more formal dresses — in a variety of colors and styles. Even as she scanned the hangers, she was recalling what she'd wear to what occasions. Billi flinched at how natural it all seemed.

Billi feared looking through the dresser. She'd already had enough surprises at the park when she saw the effects of the magic on her clothes and her purse. Her identity _had_ been changed on her license and school ID, just as the old woman had said. A wallet had become a well-stocked purse, complete with a couple of emergency sanitary napkins — to Billi's shock and dismay. But even without looking, she _knew_ that her dresser would have underwear — bras and panties, hose, socks — all clothing items that, until a few hours ago, had been totally alien. What was more, she knew which drawers contained what.

As she stood, transfixed at what all had changed, her cell phone rang. She picked it up from her nightstand, where it had been charging all day, and answered it.

"Hello?" She was nervous — she didn't know what else had changed in her life.

It was Jeff Lowery. "Hi, Billi."

For some reason, Billi's heart fluttered at the sound of his voice. "Mom said you called earlier." Billi flopped down on her bed, cell phone to her ear. "

"Yeah, but you weren't home. Your mom said something about a water park."

"Lana took me to the water park on the edge of town. We had a blast."

"I wish I'd have had a chance to go," Jeff said wistfully. "I was stuck at my grandmother's house all day, for my uncle's fiftieth birthday party. It was _so_ boring." Jeff wasn't a jock, like Chip. He played drums in the marching band.

Billi practically choked on Jeff's wish. "No," she thought to herself, "you really _don't_ want to go to that park." For some reason, the thought of Jeff turning into a girl made her sad. And as soon as that thought flitted through her brain, Billi rationalized that, as a former guy, she didn't think it fair for _any_ guy to be changed into a girl! At least, that's what she tried to convince herself was the reason behind her thinking. Billi was wondering how to proceed with the call. She was on unfamiliar territory with talking to Jeff.

"Anyway," he continued, "we missed you at the post-game party Friday."

Billi sorted through the ‘created' memories. "I missed it, too. But you know how family stuff can get in the way."

"You're telling me? You'll be at the party this next week, won't you?" Like the football team, the band usually had a post-game get-together to relax. The two crowds didn't mix very much. Jeff seemed eager to have her attend.

Billi felt strange. Jeff was interested in her? That seemed so … wrong. And yet, she felt a strange warmth within her. Why did she feel a thrill at the thought of being close to Jeff? Was it one of the effects of the magic? Did she _want_ to be with Jeff? She shook her head to clear the unwelcome thoughts. She couldn't be attracted to Jeff!

"I'll have to check with my folks."

Jeff sounded relieved that Billi hadn't said no. "Tell your mom that my parents will be there chaperoning, too. And my Mom will make sure that there won't be any alcohol."

Billi frowned. Was that a detail or memory that she was supposed to have, but somehow didn't? She realized that she was going to have to be cautious. "Of course," she explained quickly, "but I know Mom and Dad are going to ask."

"So I'll see you Friday night?"

"I'll see you at school tomorrow, silly," she said with a giggle. "Unless you were planning on skipping school!"

After she finally hung up, Billi lay on the bed wondering why she had felt so giddy when Jeff wanted to make sure she was at the party. She felt as if he'd asked her out on a date, and the thought made her nervous. But it wasn't a real date, she told herself over and over. It was just a post-game party. Billi knew that she shouldn't feel like she did. She sighed — this magic reality-changing stuff was confusing at times.

**********

Billi and Lana walked quickly down the hall; they only had a few minutes between classes, and had to hurry, since their chemistry class was on the opposite end of the school building. Billi was wearing a pair of light blue jeans, and a white, tight-fitting knit shirt with a deep V-neck. In the back of her mind, she knew that one of the older female teachers had warned her that it was too revealing. Billi laughed at the memory — the principal, afraid of a lawsuit, had backed down and allowed Billi to continue wearing the shirt, even if it was a bit risqué. This morning, she'd really _wanted_ to wear the shirt. To her horror, she found herself hoping that boys would notice.

"Hi, Billi," a familiar voice called out.

Billi turned, knowing it was Jeff even before she saw him. He quick-stepped to catch up to her. "Hi." She wasn't quite sure what else to say, and for some reason, her tongue seemed tied. Will had _never_ been at a loss for words.

"Are you going for ice cream after practice tonight?" Jeff asked, making small talk. He was trying hard to be subtle about looking at her cleavage, and failing.

Billi noticed where his attention was focused, and she smiled, delighted. Billi nodded, but inwardly, she felt nervous. She wasn't sure she could handle being a girl on the squad. "I don't know. Lana and I hadn't decided."

"I hope you can make it. Maybe I can give you a ride home, and you'll have an excuse to let me buy you a shake?" he asked hopefully.

"Uh, Lana and I always walk home together," Billi replied quickly. "Ever since we were little girls." Now she was remembering being a little girl? And calling herself a girl? "Besides, practice is going to be longer this week. We're trying to learn a couple of new routines. I'm a little nervous about not messing up, because the routines are complicated."

"You'll do fine," Jeff said reassuringly. "Just like you always do." His voice had a dreamy, admiring tone, as if he was certain that Billi was perfect, and that it was his job to keep reminding her.

"Well, I still get nervous," Billi said humbly. It was the truth, even if she was now female; Will had always worried about missing a catch or a toss, and injuring one of the girls.

"Hi, Jeff," a passing girl called.

Jeff stiffened a bit. "Hi, Shelly," he answered. "Going to Gorki's math class?"

"Yes," Shelly, one of the girls that Billi had beat out for a spot on the squad, answered. "I thought you were going there, too!"

Jeff smiled. "I am. I just had a couple of things to do before class."

"I see." Shelly frowned. "I don't see you around much, Billi. Except at games when you're cheerleading." Her eyes were shooting daggers at Billi.

Billi was startled by Shelly's reaction. "No," Billi admitted, suddenly feeling uneasy. "I try to keep busy."

Shelly flashed another smile at Jeff before turning for her class. "I'll see you in class, Jeff."

"What's with her?" Lana asked.

Jeff laughed. "I guess she wishes that she hadn't broken up with me." He put his arm around Billi's shoulder. "She's just jealous."

Billi felt a wonderful tingling inside as Jeff held her close, and at his words and actions that implied _strongly_ that Jeff was interested in her. She slowly realized that the memories and thoughts of being Jeff's girlfriend were _more_ than just random thoughts in this reality. She _was_ Jeff's girlfriend, at least as far as Jeff was concerned. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine, even as she felt a thrill in her heart.

"I've got to run to class."

Billi nodded. "Yeah, me, too."

Jeff smiled, and then he glanced up and down the halls. He bent forward and gave Billi a quick kiss on her lips. "I guess I'll see you at the malt shop."

Billi felt her knees wobble as her whole body tingled. She watched Jeff walk to class.

"Wow!" Lana commented dryly. "He's really into you."

"No, I don't think so," Billi said as if trying to convince herself.

Lana laughed. "Yeah, right."

The two girls resumed walking toward their class. "This is weird," Billi said. "Even though it never happened, I can remember when Jeff and Shelly broke up, and the next weekend, he asked me out."

"Yeah," Lana agreed. "And Shelly has hated you ever since." She laughed. "Good thing she's not on the team. I know she'd miss catching you on purpose just to get even!" She glanced at Billi, at the starry-eyed expression on her face. "You _really_ liked it when he kissed you, didn't you?"

"Uh," Billi stammered, "No. I didn't! I can't!" She was fighting her feelings that were alien and yet so familiar. The memories of her first date with Jeff, and the first time he kissed her, seemed so real.

Lana tried to laugh. "You've got girl hormones running through you now. It's no wonder that you're getting all goo-goo over Jeff." She grinned. "He's really cute!"

Billi sighed. She was so confused. "I don't get it," she said. "Today has been _so_ weird so far."

"How?" Lana asked. "Besides you getting all lovesick whenever he looked at you!" she teased.

Billi frowned. "That's not supposed to happen!" She saw Lana's smile, and knew that her friend was teasing. "When he kissed me, it felt weird, and at the same time, so wonderful." She shook her head. "Am I gay?"

Lana laughed. "I don't think so. I think your female hormones and memories are just getting the better of you."

"And some of the girls — they seem so ... catty!" Billi continued.

"Of course," Lana said with a grin. "You're on the cheer squad. You're more popular than a lot of them are. You've got a great boyfriend. Why _wouldn't_ they be envious?" She glanced up and down Billi's figure. "And you're one of the best looking girls in school, too."

"Was it just me, or was Shelly a bit bitchier than normal?" Billi asked as they walked.

Lana laughed. "You and Shelly have always been rivals. If you have something, she wants to have it. For some reason, she decided that she has to prove herself better than you."

"And her interest in Jeff?"

"That's only because he's _your_ boyfriend. If she got him pried away from you, she'd drop him within two weeks." Lana smiled at her. "If you think about it, you'll find those memories inside you, just like I do."

**********

Lana giggled when she saw Billi scanning the cars parked near ice cream shop. "Jeff is here, isn't he?"

Billi caught herself. "Uh, I'm not sure. I was just … seeing how many people were here."

"Right," Lana said sarcastically. "Face it, Billi, you've really got a thing for him."

"No, I don't!" Billi felt like crying. "I _can't_!" she complained. "I'm … so confused!"

Lana stopped and put her hand on Billi's shoulder. "You're okay. Just go with it."

"But … what if …?"

Lana gave her a quick hug for reassurance. "Don't try to over-analyze things. You're just a girl, on the East High cheer squad, going with your friend for a soda after practice. That's all. Just take it as it comes."

Billi hugged Lana. "Thanks."

Lana smiled. "And he _is_ here. In fact, he's looking out the window for you."

Billi spun toward the shop window, her eyes scanning for Jeff. "Are you sure?"

Lana laughed. "No. But I got your attention. Now let's go get a soda."

The two girls walked to the counter. "Two diet cokes," Billi ordered. "Medium."

After getting their sodas, the girls sat down at an empty table. "Are we going to the water park again next Saturday?" Billi asked hopefully. "It was fun."

Lana smiled. "I wasn't sure if you'd _ever_ want to go near that place again!"

Billi laughed. "What _more_ can they do to me?" Then she had a thought, and a frown crossed her features. "On second thought, I don't want to know what else they could do. But the park was a lot of fun."

"Maybe. It could be a fun …" Lana's eyes widened as she stopped talking suddenly. "He's coming over."

"Jeff?"

"Yeah."

Billi turned to see Jeff over her shoulder. "May I join you?" he asked politely.

Billi wanted to scream, "Of course!" but she kept her emotions in check. "Sure," she said as she slid toward the wall, giving him room beside her. She was trying to sound non-committal, but she feared that she was failing.

Jeff looked at Lana. "Trevor told me that he was taking you to a movie Saturday night."

Lana nodded. "Yeah. We're going out for pizza and then to a movie."

Jeff glanced at Billi. "I wish that _I_ had a date Saturday night," he said, giving Lana a wink.

"Maybe you would," Billi shot back playfully, "if you'd _ask_ somebody!" She smiled demurely.

Lana couldn't help laughing. Everybody knew that the two of them always joked around as if they were still flirting, even though they were going steady. It added a bit of playfulness to their relationship. "Why _haven't_ you asked, yet?" she teased Jeff. "Or is a big, strong man afraid of asking a pretty girl to on a date?"

"For your information," Jeff rebutted, "this big, strong man already talked to Trevor, and he thought it would be a great idea to double-date!" Satisfied that he'd won the verbal sparring match with Lana, he turned back toward Billi.

"Um," Billi cleared her throat, "don't you think you're forgetting something?" She couldn't believe what she was saying. She was practically begging Jeff to ask her on a date!

Jeff realized what Lana had done. He shot her a quick glare, and then turned back to Billi. "Um, I was wondering, if, you know, we could go on a double-date with Trevor and Lana on Saturday?"

"Uh," Billi stammered, "I'm not sure if I'm free, or if ...." She winced suddenly as Lana kicked her under the table. "Ow! On second thought, my social calendar is open on Saturday." She smiled and batted her eyes at Jeff. "I'd love to go with you to a movie!"

Jeff grinned, and then leaned over and kissed Billi on her lips. She felt like she was in heaven.

When the kiss ended, Billi lifted her lips toward Jeff. "Are you sure you don't need another one, just to make sure?"

"You don't want to make a scene, do you?" Jeff said light-heartedly.

Billi smiled. "Yes." She kissed him again, a little longer this time.

**********

"Why don't you just admit that you _really_ like Jeff?" Lana asked as they walked toward their homes.

"I … guess I do," Billi said hesitantly. "What's wrong with me?"

Lana smiled. "Nothing. You're a normal girl. Jeff is a very good looking guy. It's normal that you're attracted to him."

"But …." Billi started to protest. "I'm not a normal girl! Or at least, I don't think I am."

"In this reality," Lana countered, "you are."

"That's what feels so weird! It's like, looking at somebody else's memories. I remember the first time Jeff asked me out, after he broke up with Shelly. I remember when you and I used to have sleep-overs." She shook her head. "But none of that stuff happened!"

"I remember it, too, so it _must_ have happened. Oh, and speaking of sleep-overs, you are staying at my place Saturday, aren't you?"

Billi frowned. "But … when this ends, won't that be kind of … awkward?"

Lana laughed. "I talked to the park owner about it. She said that, when things change back, you'll remember staying at a friend's house, and I'll remember having one of my girlfriends stay with me. Neither of us will remember anything that could be, um, embarrassing."

**********

Billi was terrified. She'd been nervous at cheer practices and games before, but she was always the thrower or catcher, and practice wasn't in front of a large crowd. Now, _she_ was being lifted and tossed. All it would take would be a tiny slip, a small error in timing, and she'd be injured, and given the nature of the routines, possibly badly. She pushed those thoughts from her mind, so she could focus on the routine.

As soon as she quit thinking, she acted. It was all natural, as if she'd done it for years. She wasn't trying to move; she was letting her body, her muscle-memories, move for her. The routines were perfect. Billi was stunned by what she'd done; she hadn't thought it possible. After all, what Will used to do took strength, but not nearly as much balance and acrobatic skill as what she'd just done.

After the game, the cheer coach called the girls around. "That was good," she said, encouraging her girls. "I wasn't sure about a couple of the moves, but it came out okay."

Billi spoke before she knew what she was saying. "Nothing against you guys," she began, "but I'd feel a lot safer if we had a couple of boys on the squad doing the tosses and catches." She flinched inwardly as she realized exactly what she'd just said.

Nichole laughed. "Yeah, so would I. But where would we find guys?"

Tori nodded. "You know how it would go. Any guy who wanted to be on cheer squad would have to put up with lots of crap. You know, called a sissy boy, girly-man, or gay — all that kind of stuff."

Ashley agreed. "And how embarrassing would you feel if a guy was accidentally touching you in ... private areas?"

Billi was stunned. She hadn't considered _that_ angle before. She'd known — as Will — that being a male cheerleader led to taunting. "Maybe," she didn't back down on her opinion, "but I'd still feel safer."

The coach nodded. "We're doing okay. I wish we had some guys, too, but, well, we just can't get any interested." She stood up. "We've got a couple of rough spots to work on in practice next week, but overall, I think it went well. Have a good weekend." She turned and left the girls' locker room.

"So, are you going out with Jeff tomorrow night?" Nichole asked Billi as soon as the coach was out of sight.

Billi smiled as she pulled off her skirt. "Yeah. We're double-dating with Lana and Trevor."

"That'll cut down on the fun," Nichole commented sarcastically.

"Have you and Jeff, you know?" Suzie asked softly.

"Um," Billi hesitated to answer; the memories weren't always clear, and she wasn't _sure_ of the answer. "Isn't that kind of personal?"

Tori laughed. "If _I_ was his girlfriend, you bet your ass that _I'd_ do it with him! He's really … cute. And he's so ... well built!" Her voice had a lyrical tone, as if she was speaking from a daydream.

"Let's get showered and to the party," Nichole suggested, relieving Billi of the need to continue the embarrassing conversation.

At the party, Billi found herself desperately wanting to find an out-of-the-way place where she and Jeff could make out. Unfortunately, as expected, the parents chaperoning the party had anticipated teen-age hormones and kept a presence in those areas where teens might otherwise find privacy. Billi got home late, after getting a serious good-night kiss from Jeff when he dropped her off. She slept well, dreaming of fairy-tale princesses, herself as a damsel in distress, and Jeff as a knight on a white horse coming to rescue her and sweep her off her feet.

**********

Saturday, Lana picked up Billi and they headed to the Lynnwood Mall. Billi wasn't sure about shopping, but Lana insisted. After all, they'd been friends from grade school, and did practically _everything_ together. When they left the mall, Billi was stunned at how long they'd spent shopping, trying on clothes, talking, and generally making what she thought should have been a simple trip into a full-day fun outing with a friend.

Carrying the outfit she'd purchased, Billi, followed by Lana, walked into her house.

"Did you girls have fun?" Billi's mom asked cheerfully.

"Yeah," Billi answered.

"Hi, Mrs. Harding." Lana was her usual chipper, gregarious self.

"Hi, Lana. You didn't let Billi spend all our money, did you?" Mom liked Lana almost as much as her own daughter. Their banter was friendly and warm.

"Not too much," Lana said with a giggle. "You know how she hates to buy new outfits!"

Mom laughed. "Don't I know it! And it's sometimes so hard to get her to make up her mind!"

"Mom!" Billi protested with a pout. "I'm not _that_ bad!"

"Sometimes, honey, you are," Mom replied as she walked over and gave Billi a kiss on her forehead. "Sometimes." She glanced at Lana. "Are you two staying for dinner before your date, or are you eating at your place?"

"The boys are taking us out to dinner," Lana answered. "And then we'll go to a movie."

"As long as you're home before curfew," Mom reminded them.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Harding," Lana replied. "My mom and dad are even more strict about curfew than Billi gets away with, so we'll be home at a decent time."

"Well, then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning sometime," Mom said to Billi.

"Probably tomorrow afternoon late," Billi said. "We're going to Bikini Beach tomorrow."

Mom rolled her eyes in a way that Lana could see. "I swear, you're already trying to get your father and I used to you never being around, for when you go off to college!"

"I'm not _that_ bad, Mom!" Billi protested. She turned, and with Lana following her, marched through the kitchen, up the stairs, and to her room.

"Okay," Lana prompted as she sat on Billi's bed, "we've got to get your things and get to my place, because we'll have to get ready before the boys pick us up."

"How long can it take to get a few things together?" Billi asked. "I need a change of underwear, my swim suit for tomorrow, and a change of clothing."

Lana rolled her eyes. "As if!" She walked to Billi's closet and opened the sliding door. Quickly, she began to sort through the clothes, eyeing some outfits more critically than others. She pulled down a blouse. "This is pretty. You _have_ to bring this."

"Why?" Billi asked, confused.

"Because I want to see how it looks on me, silly," Lana replied. "That's part of a sleep-over — swapping clothes!"

Billi sighed. "That's _another_ thing that you didn't warn me about!"

"What are you going to wear tonight?" Lana asked as she continued sorting through Billi's clothes.

"I thought I'd wear something simple, like the long-sleeve pullover, with a pair of jeans."

Lana rolled her eyes again. "I don't think so," she said sarcastically. "Wear the dress you got today."

Billi opened the box and took out the dress. It was sleeveless, with a delicate purple floral print. The bodice looked like a modified halter top, with a deep V neckline and tying like a bikini behind the neck. "I don't know," she said hesitantly. "Isn't it kind of … bold?"

Lana grinned. "That's what makes it perfect! You'll be a knockout. You _do_ want to impress Jeff, don't you?"

"But … it'll get chilly, and the top is … kind of revealing."

Lana glanced at Billi's bedroom door, ensuring it was still shut. "When you get chilly, you'll have an excuse to have him wrap his arm around you."

Billi felt a tremble of excitement as she thought about Jeff's arm keeping her warm. It was a very pleasant feeling, a warmth radiating from her belly and making her nipples tingle.

"And, if you _want_, he can easily … touch and play — upstairs I mean," Lana continued. She saw Billi's eyes half-close, saw her breathing deepen. "And I'm willing to bet that thought has you kind of … excited?"

Billi's eyes snapped open. "No," she lied half-heartedly. In truth, she _was_ thinking about being close to Jeff, and the thoughts were leading to naughtier ideas. "I'm not supposed to think like that!"

Lana grinned. "But you _are_ going to wear it, aren't you?"

BIlli looked down, biting her lip. "Uh, huh," she muttered. She knew that, after Lana's suggestions, there was no way she _wouldn't_ wear the dress on the date.

"Let's finish gathering up some things so we can get going." With Lana's help, Billi selected some more outfits and piled them on her bed. As Billi sorted through her underwear, following Lana's suggested to get her naughtiest, sexiest undies for ‘show and tell' comparison, Lana looked at Billi's nighties.

Lana held up a lace nightie. "You have _got_ to bring this!" she squealed. "This is so darling! I bet you look like a million bucks in it!"

Billi had given up on convincing Lana that she should be practical and pack light. "I was just going to bring my old nightie."

"I want to see what I look like in it, too," Lana stated as she put the nightie on the bed. "And I bet Jeff would give his left arm to see you wearing it!"

Billi blushed; she'd been thinking the exact same thing as Lana held the nightie up. "You can bet that he _won't_ see me in it any time soon! I won't be a girl long enough to get to the point where he _could_ see it on me!"

Lana laughed. "We'll see."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Billi retorted sternly.

Lana shrugged innocently. "Nothing. It's just that, well, you're doing so well as a girl. It seems natural for you. I was just thinking that you might decide to stay as Billi."

"Not likely." Billi's response was quick, and her tone was harsh.

They finished packing, with few words. Lana had broached a subject that, obviously, was sensitive to Billi, and from Billi's reaction, she knew that she'd overdone it. Finally, after a few uncomfortably silent minutes, when the car was stopped at a traffic light, Lana turned to Billi. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I shouldn't have said that."

Billi felt her heart soften. "I know. You didn't mean it. I'm sorry I over-reacted." She looked at Lana and smiled. "We _are_ still best friends, right?"

Lana nodded, smiling. "Yeah."

"And sometimes, friends do or say something that hurts, but it doesn't mean that they're not still friends, right?"

"And you're still my best friend, and I'm very sorry."

Billi felt herself getting a little choked up. She didn't know if it was due to her female hormones. "So, what are _you_ going to wear for Trevor? Something slinky and revealing? Or are you going to wear something plain?"

"You know that blouse with the rose trim? And the rose Capri pants? The ones I thought you should bring for us to try?"

"You've got something like that to wear?" Billi asked.

"No, silly," Lana replied. "That's what I ‘m going to wear! Why else do you think I insisted you bring that outfit?"

"But … you have a ton of pretty outfits to wear!" Billi wondered how she knew that Lana had stylish clothes.

"Do you know how long I've been envious of that outfit?" Lana asked with a giggle. "Now I get to try it!"

Billi laughed. "Okay. But I'm going to get even by borrowing one of your outfits! Maybe that nice lavender silk blouse of yours. I bet I'd look good in it."

Lana smiled. "Yeah, I bet you _would_ look good in it! Maybe even better than me - which is why I shouldn't let you borrow it!" She grinned. "But, since we're friends, I will," she added as she pulled her car into her driveway.

"Very generous."

Lana was already out of her car. "Let's get your stuff up in my bedroom."

"Then what?" Billi asked, perplexed. "We've got a couple of hours until the boys pick us up."

Lana smiled. "We'll find something to do, and then we'll have to start getting ready."

Lana's idea of "something to do" was modeling clothes, and more specifically, Billi's.

When Lana pulled off her knit shirt to change, Billi couldn't help flinching. Lana noticed, and giggled. "I bet you've wanted to see me like this for a long time!"

Billi gulped. "Uh, yeah, I suppose."

"But I bet it's not quite like you'd imagined it, is it?" Lana laughed.

Billi shook her head. "It just seems ... normal - like it's no big deal."

"Remember what I told you? You're reacting like a normal girl."

"But it seems ... weird!"

Lana got a huge grin. "Okay, let's take it up a notch." She turned to her dresser and pulled out a teddy. "Here. Let's see what you look like in this."

Billi held up the garment like it was a rattlesnake. "You're ... you're kidding, right?"

"No. Let's see how you look."

Feeling a bit self-conscious, Billi turned away from Lana to take off her shirt, which caused Lana to laugh. "Turn around. We're both girls here."

Billi, her shirt half-off, turned slowly toward Lana. "Okay, see?" she asked sarcastically as she finished removing the shirt. She dropped her shirt and spread her arms, displaying her torso and the lacy lavender demi-bra she was wearing.

Lana's eyes widened. "Wow! You're wearing a lot sexier bra than I would have guessed! Matching panties, too?"

Billi nodded, feeling suddenly no longer embarrassed. "I figured ...."

Lana grinned. "I bet you wanted to feel sexy for Jeff tonight, right?"

Billi blushed. "How'd you know?"

"Every girl wants to feel sexy sometimes." She held out the teddy. "So, go ahead."

Billi knew she couldn't get out of Lana's request. Besides, she knew that Lana was right — she was enjoying feeling feminine and attractive. She unbuttoned her shorts and slid them down her legs, stepping out of them, before she took the teddy. She saw Lana roll her eyes, and realized that the bra had to come off, too. Sighing, she reached behind herself and, managing to pull the strap down a bit, unclasped her bra. In short order, she had wriggled into the teddy, and was staring at herself in the mirror.

"You look _hot_, girl," Lana said simply. "Jeff would give anything to see you like that!"

Billi imagined herself modeling the sleepwear for Jeff. She started to feel warm and tingly again. After reveling in the feelings for a few seconds, she suddenly realized _what_ she was thinking, and took control of her emotions. "I don't think _any_ guy is going to see me wearing this," she said firmly, forcing herself to deny what she was really thinking.

"So then why are you acting like a model, showing off your body in that lacy thing?" Lana asked with a big grin. "I bet you're feeling kind of excited by how you look, though, and by thinking about Jeff."

Billi blushed, and she turned away from the mirror. Quickly, she took off the teddy and retrieved her underwear. "I was _not_!" she protested.

Lana shrugged her shoulders. She didn't want to push Billi too much. "Are you going to wear that new dress tonight?"

Billi was putting on her bra. "I was kind of thinking I would."

"You can't wear _that_ bra with it," Lana explained.

Billi thought for a moment, then she swore. "Damn! I forgot to get a strapless bra!" There was the magic again — helping her know what she _should_ have brought to wear with the dress. She sighed. "I guess I'll wear something else."

Lana reached inside Billi's suitcase. "Ta da!" she giggle as she pulled out a bra. "I didn't see you get one from your dresser when you were packing, so I took the liberty of slipping it into your suitcase — just in case you wanted to wear the dress."

"I don't know whether to thank your or yell at you," Billi laughed. "I bet you wanted me to wear the new dress from the moment we saw it, didn't you? You were planning this all along?"

"And you didn't protest, at least, not too much! I figured all this girl stuff was new, and I just wanted to be sure to be helpful." She tossed the bra back on the suitcase and turned to her closet. "I've got a silk dress you have _got_ to try on!" She pulled out a long blue dress with a pale blue print, and held it up for Billi to see.

Billi laughed. "I noticed that _you're_ not doing any modeling. Are you a bit nervous about whether the magic works like you were told?"

Lana stuck her tongue out at Billi. "I trust the lady who told me. She owns the place!"

Billi pulled out the pants and blouse that Lana had said she wanted to wear. "Okay, then prove it. Let's see how _you_ look in these!" she said with a playful grin.

**********

"I heard the doorbell," Lana said, as she pulled on her blouse.

"We'd better hurry, then," Billi seemed a bit panicked.

Lana laughed lightly. "No. Dad and Trevor will talk a bit, and Dad's probably got a football game on the TV, so we can take our time. Besides," she said impishly, "when have you _ever_ known a girl to be ready for a date on time?"

Lana finished buttoning her blouse, and then turned to her vanity. She brushed her hair lightly to straighten it, and then she fastened her long hair at the back of her head, using long strands of hair from the front to anchor the sides. A simple barrette held the whole thing in place.

Billi was having second thoughts about her dress. "I don't know," she said hesitantly. "It's kind of daring, isn't it?"

"It's adorable," Lana reassured her. "You'll have Jeff's attention all night long. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Billi blushed. "Yeah."

A few minutes later, after they'd finished their hair and touching up their makeup, the girls came down the stairs. As expected, Lana's dad and the two boys were watching a football game. The boys were sitting on a sofa, their backs to the stairs and their eyes glued to the television.

"Ahem," Lana cleared her throat.

Both boys' heads swiveled, and Billi noted, with an inner delight, that Jeff's eyes lit up as he gawked at her.

"Wow!" Jeff said softly "You look … great!"

Trevor was equally taken with how Lana looked in the borrowed outfit. "Yeah," he added, as if in a trance at her beauty. "What he said."

In the background, the announcer's voice rose in pitch. "He's going deep — into double coverage. It's .... How did he catch that? That was the most impossible TD reception I've seen in …."

"You missed the big play," Billi said with a smile.

"Huh?" Jeff's eyes were still riveted to her.

Lana laughed. "Big catch, touchdown, last second score to win! You missed it."

Trevor sighed. "I'm not missing _anything_!"

Billi glanced at Lana and giggled. "Shall we go?"

The boys stood, and still staring at the girls, stumbled around the sofa toward the staircase. "Yeah."

Since Jeff was driving, he opened the front passenger-side door for Billi, and held his hand in a gentlemanly fashion to help her in. Trevor and Lana climbed into the back seats.

"I hope you pay more attention to driving than you did to the football game," Billi giggled.

"Football game?"

"Yeah," Lana laughed. "Who won?"

Jeff smiled. "Doesn't matter."

"Good answer," Billi said with a smile. Inwardly, she was delighted by the effect she was having on Jeff — he obviously found her very attractive, enough so that he missed a great play in a football game. At the same time, she was shocked at how she felt. This _was_, after all, only temporary. "Where are you taking us for dinner?"

Jeff smiled. "We got reservations at Giordano's," he said proudly.

Billi's and Lana's eyes widened when he announced the location. "That's … pretty expensive, isn't it? I thought we were just going out for pizza!"

Trevor smiled, his gaze still fixed on Lana. "You're worth it."

Billi was so awestruck by the attention Jeff was paying her, and the ambiance of the restaurant, that she barely remembered what she ate. She hardly remembered the movie's plot as they sat close, her head resting on Jeff's shoulder, his arm around her, holding her, making her feel safe and secure. At one point, when the leading lady was passionately kissed by the leading man, Billi looked up toward Jeff at the same time he glanced at her, and the two met in their own kiss. They missed a few scenes of the film as they continued kissing. Billi felt like she was floating on clouds as they left the theater.

Unfortunately for her, or perhaps fortunately, given how Billi was feeling, they'd had to see a later showing of the movie after their dinner. By the time they got out of the theater, the boys had just enough time to drop off the girls and get themselves home before the midnight curfew.

Because it was a double-date, and because Lana was giving Trevor a good-night kiss in the back seat, Jeff and Billi got out and walked, hand in hand, toward the front of the car. It was just a tiny bit more private than kissing in the car with Trevor and Lana.

"I had fun," Billi said as she paused and turned toward Jeff, taking both his hands. The invitation was blatant.

Jeff didn't miss the implied request. He kissed Billi again, long and with feeling.

Billi dropped Jeff's hands and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him close, as she felt herself pressing her breasts against him. She felt a very pleasant warmth within her, a tingling delight that was spreading from her breasts and crotch. She wanted Jeff to kiss her all night long — and more.

Alas, when the bells of St. Martha's church sounded, Billi dropped her hands. "I guess you've got to go, so you're not late."

"Yeah."

Lana and Trevor obviously had the same thought; they crawled out of the back of Jeff's car, pausing for another quick kiss, before Lana walked toward the house, while Trevor climbed into the passenger seat.

"Are you doing anything tomorrow?" Jeff asked as he tried to prolong the moment.

"Lana and I are probably going to the water park again," Billi said, equally reluctant to let Jeff out of her sight.

"Sounds like fun. Maybe you two would like some company, tomorrow? We can double-date again," he said hopefully.

"Uh, we're going to go shopping first, and I don't know when we'll get to the park." A few days ago, Billi wouldn't have cared if Jeff was turned into a girl. Now, she was horrified at the thought. "You know how long it takes girls to go shopping!"

Jeff smiled. "I know. Talk to you in school Monday?"

"If you don't call me tomorrow." Billi gave him a quick kiss, and then walked to the door, pausing to wave as Jeff pulled the car out of the driveway.

Lana's dad was sitting in his recliner, reading a novel, when they walked in the front door. He didn't take his focus from the book. "You're a few minutes early," he observed.

"Hi, Daddy," Lana said as she pranced over and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

"Must have been a good date," he commented dryly.

"They took us to Giordano's, and then a movie," Lana explained.

"So, was the food as good as they say? Or did your dates pay a lot for ambiance?"

"You're just too practical, Daddy," Lana teased. "It was … romantic."

"Romance doesn't fill the belly," her dad rebutted philosophically.

"Mom says that you were _very_ romantic when you were dating her."

Her dad chuckled. "That was three children and a mortgage ago. We're _both_ getting more practical."

"I bet the romance is still there," Billi suggested in jest. "I bet if you took your wife to Giordano's, she'd find it just as impractical and fun."

"Why? Her birthday is past. Our anniversary isn't for three months."

"Engineers!" Lana rolled her eyes. "Always trying to be practical."

"Who says you need a reason?" Billi continued.

"Good night, girls," Lana's dad ended the conversation as he focused his attention back on his book.

As they came up the stairs, Lana's mom peeked into the hall. "Did you girls have fun?"

Lana nodded. "Yeah, we did. We went to Giordano's for dinner, and then to the movie."

"Giordano's? That must have been nice." Lana's mom sounded wistful, as if she were remembering a time when _she_ had been the recipient of such attention. After a moment, she broke her reverie. "It's late, so you two need to get ready for bed. I'm not dumb enough to tell you to go to sleep, because I know you'll be up talking for a couple of hours."

"Good night, Mom," Lana said as she gave her mom a quick hug.

Lana and Billi went into Lana's room, closing the door behind them. Lana flopped down on her bed. "You're going to have to tell me _everything_ that happened!"

Billi feigned innocence. "Nothing happened! You were there — you saw!" She sat down on the end of Lana's bed, her back propped against the headboard and her legs crossed.

Lana laughed. "I saw you two kissing! That didn't look like ‘nothing'!"

Billi blushed. "So I let him kiss me … once."

"More than once, I think." She hopped off her bed and opened her dresser, tossing the pale blue teddy to Billi. "I think you should wear this tonight."

Billi frowned. "Why this?"

"Because you feel sexy and hot after making out with Jeff, that's why."

Billi shrugged, knowing that she was going to lose the battle with Lana. Lana _always_ managed to win. "Okay, I guess. But what are you going to wear? Flannel granny jammies?"

"Hardly," Lana giggled. She pulled out a lacy pink baby-doll nightie and held it up to herself for Billi to see. "What do you think of this?"

Billi wrinkled her nose. "Pink isn't your color."

Lana stuck out her tongue playfully. "You're just jealous! You saw how good I looked in your outfit tonight!"

Billi laughed. "Maybe." She wrinkled her nose. "This is weird," she added. "Talking about clothes, and what colors look best on you or me?" She shook her head.

Lana stripped and then pulled on the nightie. "So, how was it?"

"Nice restaurant. Good movie."

"No, silly," Lana chided. "How was the date? Holding hands, kissing, all of that? Did you enjoy _that_ part?"

"I … I didn't really think about it," Billi lied.

Lana wasn't buying her denial. "What did you have for dinner?"

Billi started to answer, but she caught herself short. "I … I don't exactly remember," she admitted, blushing. "Chicken something or other."

"You were too busy paying attention to Jeff, weren't you?" She saw Billi's cheeks turn even more crimson. "Admit it — you enjoyed your date, didn't you?"

Billi looked down, embarrassed. "Yeah."

"And you liked making out in the theater, too? Did you let him do any … exploring?"

Billi felt tears coming out of her eyes. "I'm not supposed to …" she started to protest.

Lana sat down and wrapped her arm around Billi. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "I wasn't trying …"

Billi shook her head. "It's just so confusing! I … let him …." She wiped her tears. "Second base," she admitted softly.

"And I bet you kind of wanted more, right?"

Billi nodded mutely.

Lana smiled. "There's nothing wrong with a girl being attracted to a boy, especially in a romantic situation like a date." She giggled. "I was doing the exact same thing you were." She stood up and kicked off her shoes. "Let's get ready for bed before Mom comes in and decides to join the conversation!"

**********

"Miss Harding?"

Billi's attention was caught by the sound of her name. She quickly refocused her attention. "Yes, Mr. Snitter?"

"Do you know the answer?" Mr. Snitter asked insistently.

"Uh," Billi knew she'd been caught. "I'm sorry, but I was distracted."

"If it was more important than history, perhaps you'd like to share it with the class?"

Billi blushed. She'd been daydreaming about being with Jeff, and kissing him again. "Not really," she mumbled.

"So, if you're going to spend class time daydreaming, perhaps a little study time after school is in order." Mr. Snitter turned to another student. "Mister Riley, do you know the answer?"

Billi felt her cheeks burning. She opened her mouth to protest, but decided against it. Daydreaming was not in character; she'd been a very good student, always having an answer when asked. And daydreaming about Jeff — about their date, about how good it felt when he was caressing her breasts? Billi silently chided herself for allowing those thoughts to interfere with her classes — for even _allowing_ those thoughts at all!.

A few class periods later, between classes, Billi bumped into Jeff by her locker. "Hi," he said warmly. He was obviously waiting for her.

Billi smiled. "Hi. How's your day?"

Jeff leaned against the lockers. "Not nearly as interesting as Saturday night."

"Yeah," Billi agreed. "I had fun, too."

"Shelly was telling some people that you got a detention this afternoon from Snitter."

Billi looked down at the floor, embarrassed. "Yeah. I wasn't paying attention."

"Was it someone I know?" Jeff asked playfully, knowing the answer.

Billi looked up. She saw the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I … was thinking about our date."

Jeff grinned. "Does that mean you had fun, and that maybe you'd like to go out Saturday? Just you and me? I heard there's a good band at Shell Game."

Billi felt her heart race. "That would be fun," she agreed quickly. "If I'm not doing anything else."

Jeff leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss, knowing that they could both get in trouble for a public display of affection. He didn't care, though. Neither, to her surprise, did Billi.

After her last class, English, Billi reported to study hall, where Mr. Snitter held detentions. She made sure that he saw her, and then sat down, away from the few other students. Dutifully, she opened her book to study.

A few minutes later, Coach Young burst through the door.

Billi looked up at the sudden intrusion, and felt further embarrassed when she saw Coach staring directly at her.

After the briefest moment, Coach walked to the front of the room. From where she sat, Billi couldn't hear the two teachers, but she could tell that Coach was very unhappy from the animated nature of her discussion. She already knew what Coach was saying, anyway. How could he possibly give one of her cheerleaders detention? Didn't he know that their cheer routines were very demanding, and her cheerleaders needed every bit as much practice as the football team? Why didn't he just give her an extra paper assignment, or something similar, that she could do _after_ practice?

As Assistant Principal, Mr. Snitter was used to his judgment about discipline carrying the day. However, in this case, his resolve weakened, and finally, he gave in to Coach Young's reasoning. Satisfied that she'd made her point, Coach Young left just as dramatically as she'd entered.

"Miss Harding?" Snitter called to Billi.

Billi quickly slipped from her desk and strode to the front of the room. "Yes, Mr. Snitter?"

If Mr. Snitter looked unhappy from the back of the room, he looked downright annoyed from nearby. "Coach Young made a very good point about your presence being required to safely practice the cheer routines. You are dismissed from detention, but talk to me after class tomorrow for an … alternate … assignment."

"Thank you," Billi said softly. She knew better than to sound pleased; if it appeared she was gloating in the least bit, the ‘alternate assignment' would be even more difficult. She quickly gathered her books and slipped out of the room.

**********

Billi wished desperately that Lana was with her, but the band always rode separately from the team and from the cheerleaders. The cheerleaders were all in a passenger van that Coach was driving.

"I'm a bit nervous," Billi confessed to Tori, who was seated beside her.

"It'll be just like practice," Tori reassured her. "We've got the routines down cold."

Billi couldn't help herself. "I always get a bit nervous before a game."

Tori laughed. "Especially when you're the one doing the aerial stunts, right?"

Billi tried to smile. "Yeah. I know we practiced over and over, but it's still …."

"Intimidating?"

"Yeah."

"So don't think about it," Tori suggested. "Think about something else — like your date with Jeff last weekend. How was it?"

"What?" Billi was blindsided by the abrupt change of topic.

"Your date — how was it?"

Billi sighed contentedly as she thought of Jeff. "It was … okay."

"That didn't sound like an okay purr, if you ask me," Tori giggled.

"Okay, so it was … a lot of fun."

"Lana said you guys went to Giordano's," Tori continued. "He must be nuts about you to spend that kind of money!"

"I think he had as much fun as I did," Billi commented, hoping she wasn't giving away too much.

"I heard he's a great kisser, too," Tori teased.

"Where … where did you get that idea?" Billi asked, as her cheeks reddened.

Tori laughed aloud. "You don't have much of a ‘poker face'," she commented. "So you _do_ think he's a good kisser!" She sighed. "You know, if you weren't going with him, I might be tempted to make a move for him myself."

"What?" Billi was shocked at Tori's revelation. "I thought you … and Sam Worthen …. I didn't think Jeff was your type!!" She sounded a tiny bit possessive.

"Well, football players aren't the best boyfriends in the world, if you ask me," Tori said softly. "Maybe they get hit on the heads too much."

"I thought … you and Sam …?"

Tori laughed. "We only went out twice. Maybe _he's_ bragging like we're going steady, but I'm not really interested."

"So who are you interested in?" Billi asked, curious. "Besides Jeff," she added quickly.

Tori leaned a little closer. "You know Paul Kensing?"

"Paul?" Billi was astonished. Paul was one of the quieter and more serious students. He wasn't a stereotypical nerd, but he was smart. He played the tenor sax, and he was involved in both drama and debate.

"Hush!" Tori hissed. "Don't announce it to everybody!"

"I don't know," Billi commented. "For some reason, I didn't think Paul would be your type."

"So just what is my type?" Tori asked caustically.

Billi realized that Tori was more sensitive about Paul than she'd let on. "I don't know," she said quickly. "I just got the impression that you liked the athletic type."

"Are you forgetting that Paul's on the cross-country team? Isn't that athletic?"

Billi knew that she needed to steer the conversation back to safe ground. "So, between playing sax and running cross country, does he have good breath control for kissing? Or haven't you gotten that far?" She saw Tori turn red, and realized that she'd stumbled into a hidden truth. Her jaw dropped. "When did you kiss him?"

Tori dropped her gaze, embarrassed. "Do you remember when I got drafted to help set up for the back-to-school mixer? Paul got drafted too. We started talking, and then, before I knew what was happening, we were kissing in the store-room."

"So have you two gone out yet?"

Tori shook her head. "I think he's afraid of asking me out. Everyone thinks Sam is my boyfriend, and Paul might be intimidated."

"So why don't _you_ ask him out?" Billi suggested. "If I was a guy," she almost choked on the words, because they were a bit too close to the truth, "I'd be flattered to have someone like you suggest we go out."

"Do you really think I should?" Tori was uncertain about Billi's advice.

Billi smiled. "Trust me. If he's as much fun to be around as you say, some other girl will ask him first if you don't." She felt the van roll to a stop, and the door opened. "I guess we're here." As they filed out of the van, Billi caught Tori's arm. "The band bus just pulled in. If you hurry, you can probably get a word with Paul before everyone gets busy."

Tori looked uneasy. "I'm not sure if I should …."

Billi tugged her toward the band. "Come on. This is not the time to chicken out. Go for it!"

Hesitantly, Tori walked over toward the assembling band.

As Billi watched, Lana came from the band area. "What's up with Tori?"

Billi smiled. "We were talking on the drive. She's got a thing for Paul."

"Paul? Paul Kensing?" Lana was a little surprised.

"Yeah. I kind of pushed her to go ask him out," Billi explained.

"You what? She's going to ask _him_ out?" Lana shook her head. "Why?"

Billi laughed. "Because she likes him, and he's a bit shy, and I remember that when I was a guy, I'd have been very flattered to have a girl like Tori ask _me_ out!"

Lana smiled. "I guess you would have a unique perspective on matchmaking." She gave Billi a quick hug. "I know you've got to get ready, and so do I. Are you going to the party after the game?"

"The band party," Billi answered. "I'm not that into the team get-together."

"With Jeff, obviously. Okay. See you there." Lana turned and walked back to the band area.

Lana passed Tori, who was returning to the cheer squad. Tori had a big smile on her face.

As she neared, Billi couldn't help asking, "Well?"

Tori's smile broadened even more. "We're going to Shell Game tomorrow night," she answered. "You were right — he was feeling a bit shy about asking me out, because he was afraid I'd say no. When I asked him, I thought he was going to faint."

"Good. I guess Jeff and I will see you there." Her voice faded. She and Jeff had a date, but that was in _this_ reality, which was due to end Saturday night — shortly after her date. Billi suddenly felt a pang of sadness at the coming end of the spell.

Coach didn't give her time to lament, however. The game was going to start, and the cheer squad needed to get busy as the team's fans assembled in the stands.

If anything, Billi was more nervous about this performance than she had been the previous week. Coach had added a few new stunts to their routine, and she really wasn't sure of herself. She knew how much could go wrong.

Late in the third quarter, when Central scored a touchdown to take the lead, Billi prepared for a routine. Tori and another girl would give her a high toss. Billi was supposed to make a big "Touchdown" signal at the apex of the toss, do a forward roll, and lay out in a prone position, just in time to be caught by the other cheerleaders. Tori slipped slightly, sending Billi skyward but off balance.

Billi knew things were going horribly wrong, even as she'd started to lift her arms. She felt her balance shift unexpectedly to the side, and she began to flail wildly in a futile attempt to regain control of her motion.

The next thing Billi knew, she was lying on the ground, with pain exploding from her shoulder and the back of her head. She tried to move, but the pain just increased, and her vision blurred and wobbled.

Above the confusion, Coach Young's voice could be heard. "Don't move her!" she yelled. "Don't move her!" She was afraid that Billi might have sustained a neck injury, and if so, moving her could worsen the situation. Fortunately, trained medical staff were on hand, albeit for the possibility of a player being injured. In mere moments, Billi felt her head being held firmly in place as the medics gently slid a backboard under her.

As her head was strapped to the padding, to prevent movement and further injury, Billi could see Lana, or at least, she thought it was Lana. Then she saw Jeff, trying to get near her, his face distraught. "Billi!" he called over and over, anguish in his voice.

As she was placed on a gurney, feeling clamped to the board and unable to move, Jeff was finally able to get near her. He was crying. "You're going to be okay," he said repeatedly. "You're going to be okay, Billi!"

**********

Her arm in a sling to lessen the strain on her shoulder, Billi was escorted gingerly up the stairs by her mom. Lana was with her.

"We'll get you right to bed," Billi's mom reassured her.

"I hurt, and I'm tired," Billi mumbled.

"It's the pain medications," her mom replied. "The doctors said you'll be sleepy."

Lana was holding one side of Billi to steady her. "The doctors said you're going to be okay," she reassured her friend.

"How bad?"

"You don't remember?" Lana asked.

"We'll know more when you get an MRI on Monday, but the emergency room doctor thought you didn't even dislocate your shoulder. It looks like just some major bruising," her mom reported. "There aren't any signs of a concussion, and no injuries to your neck or spine."

"Good."

The two got Billi to her room. She laid herself on her bed. She still wore her pleated skirt from her cheerleader uniform, but her top was covered with a plain white blanket. "Tired," she mumbled. The pain medication was making her groggy. She clutched the blanket tightly around herself as she curled up on the bed.

Billi's mom shook her head. "You need to get into something more comfortable."

"Just sleep," Billi insisted.

"Okay." Billi's mom gently tugged the bedspread from under Billi, and then covered the tired girl. "I'll be back to check on you in a few minutes." She left the room, glancing nervously over her shoulder at her daughter.

Lana sat on the bed, but even that motion caused enough motion that Billi winced in pain. "Sorry," Lana apologized quickly.

"Mom wants you to stay with me," Billi said softly.

"Yeah."

Lana leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Billi. "I'm sorry," she sobbed.

"Not your fault." Billi was struggling to stay awake.

"Yes, it is!" Lana cried. "If I hadn't tricked you, this wouldn't have happened."

Billi smiled faintly. "Yes, it would, to someone."

"It shouldn't have happened to you!" Lana protested weakly. She got no response, so she looked at Billi. Billi's eyes were closed; sleep had finally claimed her for the night.

**********

Billi woke when she rolled to her right side, and pain shot up from her shoulder. She winced and gasped at the sudden intense discomfort. Slowly, she rolled back to her left, taking the pressure off her sore shoulder.

From the light slipping around the drapes and illuminating the room, Billi guessed it was around seven in the morning. She swung her legs out of bed, scooted to the edge of the bed, and cautiously stood. Her head still hurt some, and her shoulder was definitely sore. Her right arm was trussed up in the sling to hold her abused shoulder immobile.

For a brief moment, Billi wondered what was wrong, and then she sighed with relief as her awareness recovered from sleep. It was only Saturday; she was supposed to change back to Will early Sunday morning. She considered why she was still half-wearing her cheerleading uniform, until she slowly remembered the fall, the trip to the hospital, the x-rays, and the doctor telling her how lucky she was. She saw her cheerleading top, and gently picked it up, and her heart sank as she saw the damage that had been done to it when the ER doctors had cut it from her so they could examine her shoulder.

Except for the pain and the sling, it seemed like it had been a bad dream. When she started her morning routine in the bathroom, however, Billi realized the extent of her injury. Any motion of her arm made her shoulder explode in agony.

"Honey?" It was her mom's voice, in her bedroom.

"I'm in here, Mom," Billi replied.

"I _thought_ I heard you a minute ago." Mom opened the bathroom door a crack. "Are you okay?"

Billi sighed. "Not really. It hurts a lot. And I can't move very much."

"Until the doctor can get an MRI, he doesn't want you to move your shoulder. You might have had a minor dislocation, or you might have damaged your rotator cuff."

"How long … will I have to wear this?" Billi had a sudden unpleasant thought. "Am I done with cheerleading for the season?" she asked, fear in her voice.

Mom sighed. "We'll find out from the doctor. But you might be done."

The warm shower felt good on her shoulder, but she had difficulty washing her hair and her body. Toweling dry was an adventure in frustration; out of habit, she tried to use both arms, and was rewarded with shooting pain in her shoulder, reminding her that she was injured.

When she got out of the shower, Mom was waiting. She handed Billi a pill and a glass of water. "This should help with the discomfort."

After Billi took the pill, Mom helped her with her clothing. Billi felt helpless, like a small child, because she couldn't even dress herself. Billi was afraid of Mom's reaction when she chose a bra and panty set, but Mom barely raised an eyebrow at Billi's choice of lacy, pink, daring underwear.

Halfway, through dressing, Billi suddenly cried out. "Damn!"

"What?" Mom was concerned that she'd hurt Billi.

"I won't be able to dance tonight! Jeff and I were going to Shell Game!"

Mom winced sympathetically. "Well, maybe you can still go, if you're careful."

When they got downstairs, there was a message on the answering machine, which was surprising because it was not yet eight in the morning. Mom pushed the ‘play' button.

"Hi, Billi. This is Anya from Bikini Beach. Grandmother said that it's very important that you stop by at ten this morning. That should give you time to get dressed, get some breakfast, and have Lana drive you over. See you in a couple of hours."

Mom looked at Billi, a puzzled expression on her face.

Billi shrugged, at least her left shoulder shrugged. "I have _no_ idea what that's about," she admitted honestly.

"Isn't Bikini Beach the park you went to with Lana?"

Billi winced, and then realized that her mother was watching her expression. "Uh, I just got some throbbing," she lied. "I guess I've already overdone it for the morning." She hoped the lie wouldn't be caught. "Yeah, that's the park we went to."

"Well, it sounds important, so you better call Lana after you get some breakfast."

"I bet that she got a call already, too," Billi said without thinking.

Lana had gotten a similar call. As Billi finished up her breakfast, a task made difficult by her injured, sling-bound arm, her cell phone rang. Billi pulled it from her sling, and smiled when her mother realized that Billi was using her sling like a purse. "Hi, Lana," she said cheerfully.

"How are you feeling?" Lana asked immediately.

"Not bad, once I had another pain pill," Billi said honestly. "But the sling is a major nuisance."

"I bet you're going to have problems finding an outfit to match the sling," Lana giggled.

Billi laughed. "Too bad it's not royal blue or something. It would go with my favorite blouse if it was!"

"I take it you got a phone call?" Lana asked, getting right to the point.

"Yeah. Can you drive me over? With my arm in a sling, I'm not going to be driving anywhere."

Lana laughed. "Best friend, and now, chauffeur, too!" she joked. "I'll be over in about twenty minutes."

Thirty-five minutes later, Lana parked in the lot at Bikini Beach. The lot was quickly filling, since the park had already opened. When they got to the ticket booth, the girl directed them to the office building.

Inside, Grandmother was waiting for them. "Please, have a seat, Billi." She glanced at the woman next to her, an attractive woman in a bright orange T-shirt. On one shoulder there was a patch with a red cross in a white circle. "Billi, I'd like you to meet Chastity Middleton, our staff doctor."

"Pleased to meet you," Billi said politely. "Sorry I can't shake your hand, but …."

Chastity smiled. "You injured your shoulder, right?"

Grandmother turned to Lana. "I hate to sound rude, but at this point, I think the doctor needs to look at Billi's shoulder, and then we have some private business to discuss. If you'd like, you can wait out in the plaza. It shouldn't take but a few minutes."

Lana glanced nervously at Billi, who simply shrugged — or tried to. She winced in pain, again, at the inadvertent motion of her shoulder. "I'll be okay," she reassured her friend.

Once Lana was gone, Dr. Chastity was all business. She began to examine Billi's shoulder.

Billi was visibly nervous, and Grandmother noticed. "Don't worry," the old woman said with a grin. "Dr. Chastity knows all about our secrets."

After a thorough exam, including some difficult movement and strength tests on her joint, Dr. Chastity sat on the edge of the old woman's desk. "It's not dislocated," she reported. "You have some muscle and tendon strain around the joint, and probably a small tear in your rotator cuff, but you should heal well with just some physical therapy. I really wish I had an MRI to be positive, though."

The old woman smiled. "Thanks, Doc. I guess I can take it from here."

Doctor Chastity didn't budge. "If you don't mind, I'd like to check again after you … you know." She touched and wiggled her nose, in a manner reminiscent of Samantha on the TV show "Bewitched."

The old woman stepped in front of Billi, facing her, and her face wrinkled in concentration. After a few moments, she began to chant as her fingers danced in intricate motions.

"What…?" Billi started to ask.

"Shh," Doctor Chastity silenced her. "Don't interrupt her."

A moment later, the old woman simply touched Billi's shoulder. A strange warmth spread through her joint, soothing and taking away Billi's pain in a way the pills hadn't.

"What … ?" Billi asked again, confused by the sudden lack of discomfort. "How …?"

The old woman stepped back, smiling. "Magic, of course. The same thing that made you who you are."

"But … why?"

"Today is your last day before your pass expires. It wouldn't be fair to you, or to your date, for you to be injured and not able to enjoy the evening."

Doctor Chastity repeated her exam, and Billi was amazed at how much more flexibility and strength she had, and how little pain was left. The doctor smiled. "I'd say you're in pretty good shape for an evening of dancing." She frowned slightly. "It's not perfectly healed. Don't do anything stupid, or you'll re-injure it." She shook Billi's hand. "Take care, and please don't see me again — at least not professionally," she said with a grin.

After the doctor left, Billi shook her head. "I don't get this place," she said softly. "You … scare me."

"Why?"

"Because — I'm afraid that you _want_ me to stay a girl, that you're doing all of this, being so helpful, healing my shoulder — to convince me to stay. Or that you're going to, you know," she tried to wiggle her nose, "to make _me_ want to stay."

The old woman laughed. "There was a time when I would have made the decision for you. But my grand-daughter, Anya, helped convince this stubborn old goat that I had to leave the choice to my customers."

"So … what do I do?" Billi asked, confused.

"Simple. Enjoy the evening. Have a fun date. And tomorrow, you'll wake as your old self."

"That sounds … too easy."

The old woman smiled broadly. "It isn't. You know the old saying, ‘Ignorance is bliss?' Now that you have new experiences, you may find that you see things differently, that life won't ever be quite the same."

Billi felt a shiver run down her spine at the old woman's words. "That scares me."

"It shouldn't. We all learn new things, and that helps us make better decisions as we go forward. Even an old woman like me keeps learning." She stood and walked toward the door, offering her hand to help Billi up from her chair. "I'd love to talk more, but I have a business to run, and you need to go enjoy your last day."

***********

"Are you _sure_ you don't need your sling, honey?" Billi's mom asked for the eight time. "You know what the doctor said!"

"I'm fine, Mom," Billi insisted — again. ""See?" She lifted her arm, rotating it about her shoulder. "Everything is fine!"

Mom blanched when Billi raised her arm. "But … the doctor said you'd need to keep it in the sling for a few _weeks_!"

"I'm just going on a date. I'm not going to do gymnastics, or lift weights!" Billi saw that her mom's concerns weren't being allayed. "Okay, I'll take the sling, and if it gets sore, I promise I'll put it back on, okay?"

Mom realized that she wasn't going to persuade her daughter. "I guess that's as good as I'm going to get."

"And I'll take a pain pill — in my purse, just in case."

"Thanks."

"Now, if Daddy is done interrogating Jeff, Lana and Tori are waiting!" The ‘date' was a group event — Lana and Trevor, Tori and Paul, and Jeff and Billi.

"Well, you better go rescue Jeff, then. You know how protective your dad sometimes gets," Mom advised.

Billi gave her Mom a quick kiss on the cheek, and then practically skipped into the living room.

From his relaxed posture, Jeff was used to the ‘third degree' routine from Billi's dad. "And the curfew is at midnight, so I'll have her home by eleven forty-five."

"Good."

"We're going to Shell Game for the concert, and then we might stop at the Chocolate Shop for a late snack on our way home."

Dad nodded. "You won't let her overdo things with her shoulder, right? She seems to think that everything is magically better, and that she'll be able to do anything she wants!"

Billi almost choked at her Dad's choice of words. If only he knew the real truth — that the old woman's healing spell _was_ magic! "Daddy!" she protested. "I know better than to overdo things!"

Jeff glanced up at Billi, and a broad smile crept over his features. "Wow!" he said softly. "You look great!"

Billi smiled, feeling a bit embarrassed. She had borrowed Lana's royal blue, silk blouse, and had Capri pants that matched the paler blue floral print of the blouse. Her hair was held back behind her ears with barrettes that matched the blouse — again, borrowed from Lana, and she'd spent time curling the ends of her hair.

Dad looked over the top of his reading glasses. "Maybe you look _too_ good!" he commented dryly. "You'll get too much attention from all the boys looking like that!"

"Oh, Daddy!"

Jeff stood and walked to Billi's side, taking her hand. "They'll have to fight their way past me," he said with a grin.

"And you _know_ that Jeff is a perfect gentleman," Mom said from the kitchen doorway.

"I know," Dad said reluctantly. "But I still worry about my little girl."

Billi stepped to his chair, bent over, and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "And I appreciate it, Daddy." She straightened and looked at Jeff. "Let's go. Lana and Trevor are waiting, and we'll meet Tori and Paul there."

The ride to Shell Game was short; Lana and Trevor didn't notice, since they were busy kissing in the back seat.

Lana was wearing one of Billi's blouses — a Kelly-green knit top. She wore white slacks, and her long black hair was done in a French braid. For the briefest moment, Billi was a bit envious of Lana's exotic beauty. But only for a moment, until Jeff gave her a quick kiss. She realized, to her delight, that she held Jeff's attention the same way that Lana held Trevor's.

As they danced, Billi was delighted that the old woman had healed her shoulder; if she'd been stuck in the sling, she wouldn't have enjoyed the evening nearly as much — especially during the slow dances, when Jeff held her tight against him, and she felt herself almost purring with contentment.

After more dancing, as they were sitting at the table drinking their sodas, Billi felt the call of nature. "Let's go to the Ladies' room," she whispered to Lana.

Lana nodded, and, as if linked by telepathy, Tori joined them. "We'll be right back," Lana said to Trevor with a smile.

Jeff nodded. "Hey, if you're going to be a while, maybe we can go play a game in the arcade!"

"Yeah," Trevor agreed enthusiastically.

Lana leaned over and gave Trevor a very passionate, engaging kiss. As their lips parted, she smiled. "If you _do_ go in there, your lips are going to be missing _that_ for at least a week! We didn't come here to watch you guys play video games!"

Trevor looked in Lana's eyes, and realized just how serious she was. "It was only a thought," he said quickly.

"And not a very good one," Tori added.

Once they were in the restroom Tori burst out laughing. "That was _so_ good!" she complimented Lana. "I was starting to wonder how we'd keep them away from the arcade!"

Lana just smiled. "You just have to use all the tools you've got."

Tori turned and gave Billi a big hug. "Thanks."

"For what?" Billi was confused.

"Without your encouragement, I wouldn't be here with Paul." She smiled. "He took me out to dinner before we came here. It was … fabulous."

Billi felt a lump in her throat. In four hours, she'd be gone, replaced by Will. She wondered if Will would find a girl, like Tori, who was interested in him. She wondered if Will would have many friends, like Tori and Lana and the others on the squad, instead of the few that he had. Will had felt a bit isolated from the girls, because their boyfriends were more than a bit jealous, and he was afraid of getting too close to the girls. He didn't want to be beaten or heartbroken. Will also felt isolated from the other guys, because of the joking about his cheerleading being gay or sissy. Except for a couple of close friends, few guys wanted to associate with someone who was so openly ridiculed. Billi, however, fit in.

Because of the strict curfew, Shell Game announced the time every fifteen minutes, starting at eleven. At the second announcement, Billi turned to Jeff. "How about if we leave a bit early?" she suggested. She felt too embarrassed to complete her thought.

Jeff didn't have trouble picking up her meaning. "That's an idea. We can go to Dixon Park for a bit, if you'd like."

"Yeah." Billi felt her knees weaken at the thought of making out with Jeff.

"I'll see what Trevor thinks," Jeff said with a smile. He already knew what Trevor and Lana would think — they'd be all for the idea of a bit more privacy.

And so, the two couples sat in Dixon park, eagerly and enthusiastically kissing. Billi felt a thrill as Jeff began to caress her breast, cautiously at first. She could have stopped him, but she didn't want to. Part of her, the part that knew she'd change in an hour or so, was getting very curious. This was a chance that very few boys would ever have — the chance to experience the full delight of feminine sex. Most of her, however, found those thoughts terrifying. She _knew_ she couldn't cross that line, no matter how much she wondered. She resolved to be content with just kissing Jeff. Eventually, the bells of St. Martha's sounded, letting the kids in the neighborhood know that they had fifteen minutes before the curfew slammed down, giving them time to get home and avoid being in trouble.

Billi paused on the front doorstep, turning once more to Jeff. Her arms went around his neck almost automatically, and she tilted her head upward to meet his lips. For several long seconds, she let herself enjoy the warm passion of his lingering good-night kiss, as if part of her knew that it would be her last, and that she was reluctant to let it end.

She was sliding under her covers when the bells rang midnight. For a while, she wondered what it would feel like when she changed back. Would it have the warm tingling of the original shower? How fast would it happen?

She was tired, though, from her dancing and from the residual effects of her healed injury and a restless previous night. Before the changes could start, Billi fell fast asleep.

**********

Will woke with a start. He sat up suddenly, surprised that he'd fallen asleep when he really wanted to experience the change back to masculinity. Slowly, the fog cleared from his brain. The previous two weeks seemed, at first, like it had been a very realistic dream, but slowly, he realized that it had been real.

Will probed at his shoulder, the one that Billi had injured. There was no pain, so he moved it experimentally. Slowly, and with growing confidence, he exercised its mobility, until he was confident that, somehow, the injury wasn't part of the current reality.

He glanced at the clock, and saw that it was after ten. He grabbed his phone and punched a few buttons.

"Hi, Lana," he began. "In case you didn't notice, I changed back."

"I was wondering," Lana said. "How … how do you feel?"

Will knew that she was referring to the injury. "I'm okay," he reported. "It didn't happen — not in this reality."

Lana thought a moment. "That's good. How are you feeling … about the two weeks?"

Will thought for a moment. "It's strange. I guess I got a new perspective . It's a little … awkward to talk about on the phone. How about if we meet at the mall to talk more?

Lana agreed. "Are you going to drive, or me?

"I'll be over in about twenty minutes, okay?"

"Okay, bye."

Will hung up the phone, and sighed. The morning was going to be different than he'd adjusted to over the past two weeks.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled his car into Lana's driveway. Before he could even shut off the motor, she was out the door and striding briskly toward his car.

"Let's go," she said with a smile as she pulled the door shut.

**********

"You've been pretty quiet today," Lana observed as they drove from the mall parking lot.

"Just thinking."

"That wasn't as much fun as last time we were there," Lana said, a note of sadness in her voice.

Will shrugged. "Last time, things were … different."

"Is it ever going to be the same?" Lana asked, wondering if she hadn't irreparably harmed their friendship.

"I don't know. Probably not," Will said, unenthusiastically.

Both of their phones rang simultaneously. As Will struggled to pull out his phone while simultaneously driving, Lana answered her call.

"Hello?" he answered his phone.

The voice call was a message. Will didn't get a chance to say anything else before the call cut off. He frowned, and then glanced at Lana. "That was weird."

"Yours, too?" she asked.

Will felt a chill run down his spine. "This is … eerie."

"Did yours say that we need to go to the water park to talk to the owner, again?" Lana asked hesitantly.

"Yeah. This is … weird."

Lana laughed. "Given what's happened these past two weeks, you think that us both getting the same call at the same time is so unusual?"

"I guess not."

"So are you going to the park?" Lana asked.

Will nodded. "Given what I've experience of her magic, do you think I'm going to _not_ go to the park?" They drove the short distance in silence, each wondering what the old woman might want.

As expected for a warm weekend, the parking lot was full. Will parked in the first spot he found, and he and Lana walked across the already-hot asphalt toward the ticket booth. There was no line, so they walked directly to the window.

"Uh, hi," Will began. "I, uh, that is we, got phone calls that he owner wanted to talk to us."

The pretty brunette smiled. "Yes, she's expecting you, Will."

Will glanced nervously at Lana, wondering how this young lady had known who he was.

"I'm Anya. My grandmother owns this park. She's in the office building, waiting for you." Anya gestured to a low gray building beside the park's perimeter wall.

Grandmother was indeed expecting them; she opened the door before Lana or Will could push the intercom or buzzer. "Come in, come in," she said pleasantly. As the door shut, she gestured to some stuffed chairs and sofas in a casual area of the office. "Can I get you something to drink? Lana, I believe you prefer diet Coke? And Will, you're a root beer man, right?" She smiled. "I always found it easy to like someone who likes good root beer."

Lana glanced at Will, and then they nodded. "If it's not too much trouble, ma'am," Will said. Behind them, Anya slipped into the building, gracefully and quietly taking a seat. Clearly, she was a part of Grandmother's expected conversation.

The old woman poured drinks, and handed the glasses to the two teenagers. She poured two glasses of iced tea for herself and Anya, and then sat in one of the chairs. "I bet you're wondering why I asked you to visit again?"

Lana nodded. "Yes, ma'am," she said.

"To begin with, you know I didn't approve of how you tricked Will into changing, don't you?"

Lana gulped. "Yes, ma'am." She sounded suitably chastised. "But I thought …"

Grandmother held up her hand to still Lana's comment. "You had good intentions." She turned to Will. "What did you think of your … experience?"

Will sighed heavily. "I … don't know," he began. "It was very different from what I'd expected."

Grandmother knew that Will had a lot of feelings to sort out. "Why don't you start with the good things you experienced?"

"Yeah," Will agreed. "I really liked not being made fun of by the guys. I enjoyed the camaraderie of the squad, that I never quite felt when I was … me." He took a sip of his soda. "I kind of liked having someone … close," he was obviously embarrassed about calling Jeff a ‘boyfriend', "because I wasn't lonely." He glanced at Lana. "Lana and I had more fun together than we've ever had. It was like having a sister, and I enjoyed it."

"But on the other hand?" the old woman prompted.

Will sighed again. "On the squad, I felt … vulnerable. I was afraid doing some of the routines. Some of the girls in school were pretty … mean."

"Catty," Lana interjected.

"Yeah."

"And you're afraid that you can't protect the girls on the squad, that someone is going to get hurt, worse than you did, because you're not there to help keep things safe?" Anya had been silent until that point.

Will nodded, looking down. "Yeah."

The old woman perked up, and cocked her head. "Anya," she said suddenly, "why don't you and Lana go …?"

"Grandmother," Anya replied softly, "I think Lana needs to hear it, too."

The old woman thought for a moment. "You're probably right." She turned to Will. "There's more, isn't there?"

Will sighed. "I hoped that, after I changed back, Lana and I could be more than friends." She saw the look on Lana's face. "But that won't ever happen, will it?"

Lana shook her head sadly. "I don't think so. I think of … thought of … you like a brother. That's how you always treated me — like a very special sister. I don't think I could ever think of you romantically."

Will nodded slowly as he digested the truth. "I guess part of me knew that, but a guy can always hope, can't he?"

"I'm sorry," Lana said softly.

"And what else?" Anya prompted.

Will gulped. He hadn't wanted to admit this part, but he knew that the two magic-users weren't going to let him _not_ admit it. "When I saw Shelly with Jeff at the mall this morning, I felt kind of …" He lowered his head, shaking it. "It seemed wrong."

"And your little brother always seemed to get out of chores, didn't he?" the old woman added.

"Yeah."

"In case you don't remember," Anya countered softly, "that was an issue _before_, wasn't it?" Anya stood suddenly. "Lana, why don't we go get some ice cream?" she asked.

With a puzzled look on her face, Lana followed Anya out into the park.

Once they had gone, the old woman turned back to Will. "You're very tempted to be a girl, aren't you?"

Will knew he had no secrets from this woman. "Some, I guess."

"You liked the way your family interacted. You enjoyed the way things were with your friends. You enjoyed your boyfriend. But?"

Will laughed a hollow laugh. "You want to tell me, because I'm not sure myself."

"You feel a strong need to protect the girls on the cheer squad, don't you? You think that, as long as you're a man, you can prevent injuries of the type you suffered, isn't that right?"

Will thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, looking down as if embarrassed. "Every year, the routines get more extreme, more … daring." He shook his head. "Someone is going to get hurt, badly, if I'm not there to … help. If Tori or Melissa or Nichole or Ashley or any of the others got hurt because I wasn't there to help, how would I live with myself?" Will wiped at his tears.

The old woman rose and moved, sitting beside Will on the sofa, placing her hand gently on his arm. "Your masculine need to protect the _weaker_ female sex on the squad is noble ..."

"Thanks," Will acknowledged.

"... but it's bull. No matter what you do, or who you are, you can't prevent all injuries. Someday, one of the girls _is_ going to get hurt, and there's nothing that you can do to stop it. You're not Superman."

Will's eyes opened wide. "Oh?" He sounded disappointed at the truth he was having to confront.

The old woman nodded. "You have to live your life for yourself, not making decisions to try to protect others. Being selfless is one thing, but not if you sacrifice yourself in the process."

Will nodded glumly. "I know. I just wish I knew what to do."

The old woman smiled. "Maybe you need some time to think. You don't want to make a hasty decision about something that will affect the rest of your life, do you?"

Will looked at her, surprised. "I suppose not. But ….?"

The old woman laughed. "You figured that I'd try to sell you a lifetime pass, because it would be good for my business, right?"

Will nodded. "Yeah, kind of."

"That wouldn't be fair to you, though, would it? That would be me saving you from having to decide for yourself. Would that be right?"

Will shook his head. "No."

"You can always enjoy the park for a day or two while you think. I know you enjoyed ‘sister time' with Lana. You might even have time for a date with Jeff, if you want."

Lana was waiting by the ticket booth when Will finally emerged from the office. She couldn't read the expression on his face. "What's up?"

"We talked some more."

"And?" Lana was clearly curious.

"It's my decision. She helped me see how many things I need to consider."

"Oh." It was clear, from her voice, that Lana was disappointed.

"You sound unhappy," Will observed.

"No," Lana said quickly, but her lie was transparent. "Okay, I guess I am." She looked down at the ground, embarrassed by her feelings. "I … wanted you to stay, because … you're like a sister. We had fun together — more fun that we do now. I … guess I was being a bit selfish. I'm sorry."

**********

Will Harding quietly closed the door of his locker. The noise from the locker room was just as chaotic and exuberant as always, but Will had been mostly unobserved — until now. Chip noticed Will picking up a towel he used to keep his hands dry during practice.

"How are you doing, cheer boy?" he said tauntingly.

After a week and a half of taunting and abuse since he'd changed back, Will decided he'd had enough. "Look, Chip," he began firmly, "you should be _thanking_ me for cheering."

"What?" Chip was stunned into near silence by Will's rebuttal.

"In case you didn't know, the other day, while you were busy playing football, I kept your girlfriend from falling and getting hurt! Didn't she tell you?"

"No." Chip's eyes widened. "You …?"

Will took a deep breath and looked around the now-silent locker room. "And you, and you," he added, pointing to two other players. "If I wasn't catching, _your_ girlfriends might get hurt, too." He shook his head. "I've never tried to hit on your girlfriends, I've never been rude or lewd with them. And what do I get? All I get from you guys is a bunch of crap!" He angrily grabbed the towel and turned, walking briskly from the locker room.

As he neared the practice area, he saw the girls starting to warm up. His pulse was still racing, and his lips were tightly pursed together from the confrontation. He saw the girls, interacting playfully, warmly sharing secrets and gossip. He knew that the moment he got near, the fun conversations would stop, the playful banter would cease. He suddenly felt alone, even in the group.

Will sat heavily on the bench, resting his forehead on his interlaced hands and sighing heavily. Nothing had changed, except him. Everything was the same — how the girls treated him, how the guys acted toward him, the innuendo around school that he must be gay to be a cheerleader. Will suddenly felt overwhelmed.

"Hey, Will," Coach Young called to him. "Get with it."

Will looked up slowly at her. He looked … beaten. She recoiled from the hollow, defeated look on his face. Slowly, he let his head back down, staring at the ground.

Will felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up. Tori had sat down beside him, and she put her hand out to try to reassure him. "Come on," she encouraged Will. "Let's get going."

Will shook his head sadly. "It doesn't matter," he said softly.

Tori frowned. "What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"

Will sighed again. "It doesn't matter. Someday, someone's going to get hurt, whether I'm here or not."

"Of course it matters," Tori rebutted quickly. "The other day, you saved Nichole from a bad fall."

Will shook his head sadly. "I can't stop them all," he said.

Tori was stunned into silence. Will sounded very depressed.

Will looked up at her. "Tell me, did you or any of the girls ever think about going out with me? If I would have asked?"

Tori's eyes widened, and she involuntarily glanced around at the other girls. "Uh," she stammered, not quite sure how to answer, "I guess I never thought of it."

"Because you all think of me as just another of the girls, right?"

Tori bit her lip, suddenly ashamed. Will's words contained more than a grain of truth.

"And none of you ever thought of sticking up for me when others were making jokes or off-color comments either, I bet."

Tori dropped her gaze, ashamed. "It never occurred to me. I'm sorry," she tried to apologize.

Will stood suddenly. "So am I." His voice was heavy. He turned and walked slowly back toward the locker room.

As Will walked past, Coach Young looked at him and opened her mouth to say something. Will looked up, and she understood everything from the look in his eyes.

**********

Billi seemed unhappy, even though she was happily cheering. Because of her fall two weeks before, Coach wouldn't let her do any acrobatic moves. Instead, she just cheered and rallied the fans. And she was happily interacting with the other cheerleaders, even though there was something … sad … in Billi's eyes.

Right after school, Will had slipped to Bikini Beach, and had gotten a pass. He _had_ to know some answers. So he changed, and was now at the game, doing what Billi — and Will — loved, which was cheerleading. Even Lana didn't know, because she wasn't part of the change. Will — Billi — was the only one who knew of the temporary change.

Despite the camaraderie, Billi felt alone. She knew it was only temporary, not real. To Jeff's chagrin, Billi skipped the post-game band party. She wouldn't go with Lana, either. Instead, she drove away by herself. She drove aimlessly, but found herself approaching the parking lot of the water park that had started all of Billi and Will's troubles.

Billi sat in her car, staring forlornly at the gate. She wished that the place had never existed, that the old woman had never let her learn, had never given her a choice.

A knock on the glass shattered Billi's self-pitying mood. She looked up sharply, startled. It took a moment, in the dim light of the lamps and moonlight, for her to recognize Anya, the girl from the old woman's office. Billi rolled down her window. "You scared me," she said.

Anya smiled. "Sorry. I just felt … that you needed to talk to someone."

Billi stared at her for a moment, and then a tear dribbled down her cheek. "Yeah," she said softly.

Anya walked around and climbed into the passenger seat of Billi's car. "You've had a pretty tough couple of weeks, haven't you?"

Billi nodded. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Why did you quit? As Will, I mean."

Billi sighed. "I realized that I'd never fit in. I wasn't respected by the guys, or by the other girls even." She closed her eyes and took a couple of slow breaths. When her eyes opened again, it seemed like an effort on her part. "I just couldn't take it anymore."

"So why did you come back here? Why'd you change back to Billi?" Anya asked as if she knew the answer already.

Billi realized that Anya probably _did_ know, just like the old woman probably knew. "I needed to know … how I fit in as Billi."

"So now what?"

Billi shook her head. "I don't know." She laughed, but it was an empty, hollow sound. "I lose either way, don't I?"

Anya knew, but she asked anyway. "How?"

"As Will, I can't go back to cheerleading. Not knowing how I didn't fit in. Not knowing how the girls thought of me, or the players. I can't take more of the taunting or teasing or harassment." She sighed. "My best friend — the girl I could fall in love with — admitted that she couldn't ever think of me romantically. The girls on the team — they don't see me as a guy, but as a cheerleader. My dad will never get over me not being a football player like Aiden."

"Did you ever ask your dad why?"

"I tried," Billi answered. "He wouldn't answer."

"Your dad is haunted by his own demons. He was a star tight end in high school — until he had a career ending injury midway through his senior year."

Even in the dim light, Anya knew that Billi's eyes were wide with surprise, and her mouth hung agape.

"He was setting school records, and then it all ended. He had scouts from Notre Dame, and Oklahoma, and Michigan interested in him, with full-ride scholarships. He was living every little boy's dream — being a star football player and getting a shot at making it big."

"What happened?"

"He shattered his knee pretty badly. Both ligaments, tendons, his cartilage — just about everything. It ended his dream."

"I … never knew."

Anya shook her head. "Your _mom_ doesn't even know. Your dad never told anyone, because he was ashamed of what he thought was his failure."

"So that's why he identifies so much with Aiden — because …."

Anya nodded. "He plays tight end. Just like your dad." She paused a moment. "There's no way that you'll ever live up to your dad's hopes and dreams unless you play football, and more specifically, unless you're a star tight end. Even Aiden will be a disappointment to your dad unless he accomplishes what your dad missed."

"But as Billi…?"

"Your dad didn't have near-impossible expectations of a daughter. That's why it seemed so much better."

"But … if I change, I lose who I was!" Billi complained. "I lose everything I knew, everything I've grown to expect. I feel like I'd be running away from my problems!" She wiped at a tear.

"Or running _toward_ something better," Anya interjected.

Billi considered her words. "So what do I do?"

Anya laughed, but it was a sad, sympathetic sound. "I can't tell you. _You_ have to decide what's right for you."

"I want to be Will," Billi said weakly. "But I want to be Billi." She shook her head. "I don't know _what_ to do!" She wiped at her tears again.

"You have to figure it out yourself," Anya said. She glanced at her watch. "It's late. Your curfew starts in about fifteen minutes, so you better get home — especially since you'll be changing back a little after midnight!"

**********

Lana smiled warmly as she crawled into Will's car. "Hi."

"Morning," Will said in a monotone.

"You weren't at the game last night," Lana observed.

Will shook his head. "There didn't seem to be any point."

"It was kind of strange to not see you on the sidelines."

"Yeah, it was strange not being there. Still, I … couldn't." Will didn't tell her that Billi had been cheering the night before. Lana didn't know, and didn't need to know.

"Is this because of what happened — when …?"

Will shook his head sadly. "I don't think so. I guess it's been building for some time now."

"You said you had some errands to run, and then we'd do something fun?" In truth, Lana was getting very concerned about Will. He'd been withdrawn, and seemed depressed, since just before he'd quit the cheer squad.

"I've got to pick up something Mom left at the store to be altered. You know the place — in the mall?"

Lana thought for a second. "Oh, yeah. The place that specializes in alterations and tailoring. Isn't that right across from Jean Queen?"

"Yeah. I figured that you could go look at some jeans or stuff while I get Mom's clothes."

"If you can stand to wait! You know how girls shop!" Lana joked.

**********

"Are you sure about this?" Lana sounded as nervous as she was. "This is what started all the problems." Will's car was parked in the lot at Bikini Beach.

Will shook his head. "No, they started before. I'm sure. I've been kind of down, and I guess I need a fun day with my best friend. But I don't want to make Trevor jealous."

"He knows you're not romantically interested," Lana countered. "But, still …."

"Well, since we're already here, and don't have any other plans, how about if we just go enjoy the park?"

"Okay. I'll change and wait for you."

As Lana turned toward the women's locker, she noticed that Will was discussing something at the ticket booth. The discussion seemed to be a bit animated on Will's part. Curious, Lana stood and watched, until eventually, Will took out his wallet and, after paying, received a pass.

Lana was changed first, and was waiting as Billi came out of the men's locker. "What was the delay about?" she asked, her curiosity too strong to contain.

"We were arguing about the price of a pass."

Lana frowned. "But … the prices are pretty fixed, aren't they?"

Billi smiled. "I got a coupon this morning."

"This morning? Where?"

"At that little curio shop in the mall." Billi recalled the morning. "While you were shopping in Jean Queen. There was a little curio shop, and I stopped in to see what was up. Spell something-or-other. It had a little bit of everything, but the owner also had some discount coupons for Bikini Beach." She ran back into the locker room, emerging moments later with a piece of paper. "Here," Billi said as she extended it to Lana.

Lana scanned the paper. "Forty percent off?" She glanced at Billi. "That's a pretty good deal."

"Read the rest."

"Forty percent off …" Lana's eyes widened, "of a lifetime membership?" She looked up at Billi, uncertain of what Billi was implying.

Billi grinned. "Lifetime membership. As in, I'm not going back!"

Lana squealed, and enthusiastically hugged Billi. "That's … great! I'm so happy — for you, and for us! You're like my sister!"

"So are you."

"Now we can do everything together," Lana giggled.

Billi thought about Jeff. She felt warm thinking about kissing him. "Well," she said, blushing, "maybe not _everything_!"

FIN

Melinda and Jenny have a fling during Melinda's temporary job as a lifeguard. Jenny finds herself falling for Melinda. But Melinda's time is up, and Mitch has to go back to his life. What is Jenny going to do?

This is a new, never-before published Bikini Beach story. Enjoy.

Author's note: This story takes place after "The Sub", but before "Cousin Trouble". It is strongly suggested that you read "Bikini Beach: The Sub" first.

This story and the Bikini Beach characters and universe are copyrighted by the author, all rights reserved.
********************************************************************************

The old woman rose and shook his hand. "I think you're going to enjoy your time with us," she said with a smile. She reached down to her desk and picked up a card and handed it to Mitch. "Now, please swipe this through the employees' gate and get changed so I can get the park open."

As Melinda came out of the shower, she nearly ran over Jenny. "Hi," she said, laughing at Jenny's open-mouth stare of astonishment.

"Uh," Jenny stammered, uneasiness in her voice, "I didn't expect to see you here."

Melinda smiled. "The boss needed a sub for a few more days. I happened to be free." She shrugged. "It works out for everyone."

"How long are you going to be ..."

Melinda grinned. "Like this?" She laughed. "A couple of weeks."

Jenny gulped. "You _know_ that after the club, this is going to be kind of ... awkward," she said uncertainly.

Melinda turned down the path toward the lifeguard shack. "I've got to get to work." She glanced over her shoulder at Jenny. "And I don't think it'll be too awkward."

Jenny frowned. "Yeah, but you're not the one who's going to have to control yourself."

Melinda laughed. "Well, maybe you can think of it as a challenge. Can you seduce the new girl before she changes back?" She saw Jenny's mouth drop open in astonishment, and she could practically hear the thoughts running through Jenny's mind. Melinda thought that if Jenny and she _did_ hook up, it would be a very unique experience. And Jenny was _damned_ cute!

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Jenny watched Melinda walk away. Melinda was swinging her hips in an exaggerated but still alluring way. In her one-piece lifeguard swimsuit, Melinda looked quite attractive as she sashayed away. Her shoulder-length brown hair swayed in time with her hips. Once she got wet, her hair would hang straight, but, for now, her lightly curled hair was as alluring as the curves of her shapely bottom. For some reason, Jenny felt wobbly in her knees. She was so distracted watching Melinda that she didn't notice the boss coming up beside her.

"Jenny!" the old woman repeated, a bit louder

Jenny snapped out of her reverie and spun toward the interruption. "What? Uh, oh, hey, boss."

Her long red ponytail swung about her shoulders. She was easily as attractive as Melinda, but in a different way. With her grease-spotted pink Bikini Beach T-shirt and her tan shorts, she looked like a model that had been doing mechanic's work. In truth, that's what she was — a very attractive young lady who _also_ happened to be the chief mechanic and handy-person that kept Bikini Beach running.

The old woman glanced down the path just in time to see Melinda rounding a corner and disappearing from view. "Hmmph," the old woman snorted. She turned back to Jenny. "I need you to talk with Greg in the office. He's still working on the plans for the expansion, and I want _your_ input in those plans to make them right."

"Okay," Jenny replied. She didn't sound enthusiastic as she turned to the office building.

"Jenny," the old woman interrupted again.

"Yes?"

"Don't drool. It's not lady-like."

Jenny's jaw dropped for a moment, leaving her looking stunned, before she could regain her composure. She let her gaze drop from embarrassment. "Was it _that_ obvious?" she asked meekly.

The old woman nodded. "Yes." She saw the concern on Jenny's face. "Let's sit down for a moment." Without waiting for a response, she walked to one of the tables in an unoccupied corner of the entrance plaza. She knew Jenny would follow, if for no other reason than loyalty. She suspected, however, that Jenny's curiosity would be an even stronger motivator.

"You're really attracted to Melinda, aren't you?" the old woman asked after the two were seated.

Jenny blushed and dropped her gaze. "Yeah," she answered softly. When the boss said nothing, she looked up suddenly. "How did you know?"

The old woman laughed. "Dear, when I saw you with Melinda at the Palm Club, I knew you were attracted to her."

Jenny nodded. "I was trying to hide my attraction to her."

The old woman shook her head as she chuckled. "It didn't work. You were a little _too_ convincing when you rescued Melinda. I could tell you weren't just acting, even though you insisted that you were."

Jenny looked down again, feeling embarrassed. "I was just ..."

"... trying to help Melinda. The problem is, you were way too eager to go help her, and then you protested a little too loudly about your innocence." The old woman laughed. "_And_ you were much too eager to take Melinda home after she got drunk."

Jenny looked back up suddenly. "I swear, I behaved myself!" she said quickly and defensively.

The old woman chuckled. "I didn't say otherwise."

"I promised to behave myself, and I did," Jenny insisted.

"I don't doubt you, dear." She laid her hands atop Jenny's in a gentle, reaffirming way. "I understand if you're confused, that you find women more attractive. After all, you spent more than fifty years questioning your sexuality, wondering if you were perhaps gay. Fifty years of not being as attracted to women as your friends were, or the male stereotype demanded. You may not have ever admitted it, even to yourself. I'm guessing that you really _were_ gay, so I’m not surprised that you’re a lesbian. It took changing in to Jenny for you to realize that you _do_ have same-sex attractions, no matter how much you try to hide it."

Jenny looked into the old woman's eyes, and found them full of sympathy for her. "I ... was afraid that you wouldn't understand," she admitted.

"All I want to tell you, though, is to be careful." She patted Jenny's hand again. "Melinda is only working here as a temp. She only has a two week pass." She shook her head sadly. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Jenny took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly as she gazed toward the false volcano in the park. "I know." She sighed. "I wish I knew what to do."

"Normally, I'd say to follow your heart, dear," the old woman said gently. "But this time, my advice is to be careful."

**********

Melinda had just eased herself down onto the sofa in the break hut, cold soda in hand, when the door opened.

Jenny didn't walk directly in, but rather, and curiously, paused in the doorway to look around. Her face brightened when she saw Melinda resting. "I thought it was your break time," she said cheerfully.

"Yeah. I had to pull a long shift at the wave pool, because Tiffany got sick." Melinda took a sip of soda, relishing the cool liquid in her mouth and throat.

"I heard. I hope she's okay."

Melinda laughed. "Dr. Chastity said it looks like minor food poisoning, so she should be back tomorrow or the next day."

"That's good to hear. Since it's about lunchtime, do you want to go over to the Tiki Hut and grab a bite?" Jenny's words sounded like a hesitant invitation.

Melinda stood, careful not to spill her soda. "Sounds like a great idea. I started this morning. Liz is a real stickler for checking safety equipment and reviewing procedures before the park opens. It's been a long morning."

As they walked out of the building, Jenny said, "My treat?"

Melinda laughed. "Since staff lunches are free, you're making me sound like a cheap date!"

Jenny didn't know whether to blush from embarrassment from the suggestion that she was looking for a "cheap date," or from the suggestion that their lunch was any sort of a date. "Well, …" she began.

Melinda laughed as she put her hand on Jenny's. "I was joking," she said quickly.

Since it was past one-thirty, the dining area wasn't very crowded. Jenny ordered a small burger, while Melinda got a salad.

"What did you do before you started here?" Jenny asked as they sat.

Melinda shrugged as she took the plastic lid off her salad bowl. "For the last two summers, I worked in construction."

"Residential?"

Melinda laughed. "You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but it was heavy equipment. Last year, I drove a Cat. This year, though, there isn't much work, so …"

Jenny's eyes widened. "You drove a Cat?" She smiled. "You're right — I wouldn't have believed it."

"Well," Melinda added, "back when I was …"

"Hush," Jenny interrupted, looking around quickly to see if anyone was nearby. When she spied no-one, she turned back to Melinda. "We don't talk about … you know … when we're in the public parts of the park. Most of the guests have no idea just how _magical_ this place really is."

"Oh."

Jenny reached across the table and lightly touched Melinda's arm to reassure her. "You didn't know," she said. "No harm done."

"I'll … remember that."

Jenny realized that she'd interrupted their conversation. "So, what other interests do you have?"

Melinda swallowed a bite of salad. "I spent one summer, in the evenings and weekends, working with some some friends of mine on an oval, dirt-track stock car." She grinned. "That was a lot of fun."

Jenny seemed startled, but then she started smiling. "No kidding? I did that, too, back home when I was on the farm. Do you work on your own car, too?"

Melinda laughed. "Some. I rebuilt the engine, and put in a better camshaft. I put a tuning chip in the engine computer, too. I got about fifty-five more horses out of the engine, so it has a lot better acceleration." She saw the astonishment on Jenny's face. "Yeah, you could say I like to work on cars." She took another bite of salad.

Before Jenny could reply, Liz called out. "Melinda? I need you to take over at the Junior Lifeguard Academy."

Melinda frowned. "I just started my break," she complained.

Liz shrugged as she drew closer. "Holly had to leave to go to her lifeguard class, and with Tiffany out, we're a little short."

Melinda swallowed and took another quick bite of her lunch. "Sorry, Jenny," she apologized. "Duty calls."

Jenny smiled. "That's the way it works around here. But it was nice to spend a _little_ time talking. Maybe you'll come to the club tonight with a few of the girls?"

Melinda tossed the remains of her lunch in the trash can. "Yeah," she said with a grin. "That sounds like fun." She turned and strode quickly away.

Jenny sighed, then she gave Liz a look of displeasure.

"What?" Liz asked, not quite understanding Jenny's glare.

"You _had_ to interrupt, didn't you?"

Liz winced, but then she smiled. "Oh, that!" She laughed as she sat down with Jenny. "I wanted to talk with you about Melinda."

"Oh?"

Liz's expression turned to one of concern. "I'm a little worried about you and her."

"In what way?" Jenny seemed a little defensive.

"That you're falling for her," Liz said slowly. "That you're going to get hurt." Liz shook her head. "You're my friend, and I can't help worrying about you. She _is_ a temp here, you know."

Jenny frowned. "I know," she retorted, this time quite defensively. "And I'm not going to get hurt."

**********

"So why isn't Greg here?" Liz prodded. "Or, more accurately, since it's girls' night, why isn't _Gwen_ here?"

Anya frowned. Even with a look of displeasure on her face, she was very attractive, with her pretty features framed by her long, brown hair. "He's getting summer credit for his work on the park, and he's got a deadline with his professor on Monday." She sighed. "It's going to be a lonely weekend."

"Too bad," Jenny observed.

"You're darn right, it's too bad." Anya sighed again. "We were going to go out for dinner and dancing tomorrow night. Now _I've_ got to make other plans."

"Dancing — that sounds nice," Liz observed. "I used to _love_ dancing. Not this crazy hopping around stuff, but nice, slow partner dancing." She had a wistful look in her eyes.

"Were you planning to dance with Greg, or with Gwen?" Jenny teased.

Anya tossed an ice cube at her. "As Greg," she replied tersely. "I prefer him that way."

"Greg … changes into … Gwen?" Melinda asked uneasily.

"Yeah. You could say that Gwen is his female alter ego." Jenny laughed. "It's real handy when he wants to spend time with Anya, but we'd already made girls' plans. Sometimes, he can be _really_ hot!" She winked at Liz and Melinda.

Anya nodded. "But sometimes, he puts a damper on things, even when he's Gwen." She shrugged. "I guess there are things we girls talk about that he just doesn't understand."

"You haven't met Gwen yet, have you?" Liz prompted.

"No," Melinda said uncertainly. "From your grins, I take it there's something you haven't told me?"

Jenny giggled. "Depends on which version of Gwen you meet. Sometimes, Greg gets a little … carried away." She held her hands up far in front of her chest to demonstrate.

Anya scowled at Jenny. "He hasn't done that for … a long time." She looked at Melinda. "He usually just turns into what he would be if he'd been born a girl."

Melinda shook her head. "I don't know how you can talk about this like you're discussing the weather! It's all so … I don't know. Strange!"

Jenny wasn't going to quit teasing Anya about Greg. "When he overdoes it," she continued, "we have to deal with a load of guys hanging around who want to stare into Gwen's cleavage!" She grinned as she finished her glass of wine.

"You're okay with that? With him changing into a girl?" Melinda was dumbfounded.

Anya shrugged, as if it were nothing. "As long as he doesn't get too obsessed or carried away," she paused, a small shiver causing her to tremble, "it's okay." She realized that Melinda was staring at her. "Besides, it gives him a chance to try life on the other side, if you know what I mean." She winked at Liz and Jenny. "He wouldn't be the first to wonder, if you get my drift."

“And curiosity isn't confined to guys." She smiled as Melinda's jaw dropped.

Liz glanced at her watch. "It's getting late, and I've got an early start tomorrow. I think I better be heading home."

Anya nodded. "Yeah. I know what you mean." She looked at Jenny. "Are you okay to drive?" she asked.

Jenny nodded. "I'll be okay. I've only had two glasses of wine."

"But you're probably at or over the new, low alcohol limit, so if you get stopped …." Liz added.

Jenny nodded. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too. But I hate to leave the truck here and take a cab home."

Melinda glanced at Liz and Anya. "Since I rode down here with Liz," she offered, "I could drive Jenny back to the condos. It's only a couple hundred yards from there to my car."

Jenny's eyes lit up. "Yeah, that'd work!" she said enthusiastically.

Anya shot a disapproving frown toward Jenny.

Jenny either didn't see, or didn't care to reply. "Here are my keys," she said lightly to Melinda.

"See you tomorrow," Liz said, sounding not very enthusiastic, as Jenny left with Melinda. She guessed that Jenny wanted to hold on to Melinda's arm, or hold hands with her. As the pair stepped through the door, Liz turned to Anya. "I'm worried about her," she said simply.

Anya nodded. She grabbed her purse and started walking, with Liz beside her. "Yeah," she agreed. "So am I."

"Jenny's going to get hurt, isn't she?"

Anya laughed. "Are you asking if I can 'see' that, or if I think that's what's going to happen?"

Liz chuckled, but not convincingly. "I'm not sure I want to know what your 'sight' tells you about her."

Anya's expression became somber. "To tell you the truth, I've been afraid to use my 'sight' with her. I'm afraid of what I'll see." She paused. "Even if it _did_ work when love is involved."

**********

"Are you sure this is okay?" Melinda asked, worried. "I don't want you to get in trouble, and Anya didn't look too happy."

Jenny laughed. "It's okay. You heard them — it's safer for both of us this way. Besides, since you're an employee, you're covered by the park's insurance."

As the truck pulled into the street, Melinda sighed. "This isn't nearly as much fun to drive as my car. Still, it handles a _lot_ better than a dump truck!"

"I suppose you drove a dump truck, too?" Jenny said with a laugh. "Knowing what I've already learned about you, I'm not surprised. Is there anything _else_ you haven't told me? Amateur brain surgeon, maybe? Or an international spy?"

Melinda grinned. "If I _was_ a spy, and I told you..."

"You'd have to kill me," Jenny finished. "Somehow, I don't think you could bring yourself to do that. You don't have that look in your eyes."

Melinda frowned. "What ... look ... do I have?"

"The look of someone who's playing hard-to-get, even though she's wildly attracted to the object of her desire," Jenny said, as she stared longingly at Melinda.

Melinda gulped; this wasn't quite going where she'd intended. "So do _you_ work on cars?"

Jenny sighed. Melinda _was_ playing hard to get. "I used to. Newer cars aren't nearly as much fun to work on as older cars — cars from before everything was run by a computer."

A look of bewilderment crossed Melinda's face. "You make it sound like you worked on cars practically back when they were invented!" She tried to laugh. Inwardly, she wasn't sure that she wanted to understand what Jenny was implying.

Jenny shrugged. "There's a lot about me that you don't know. I hope, though, that you'd like to get to know more about me, just like I'd like to know more about you."

Melinda pretended not to hear Jenny's blatant invitation to romance. "What _have_ you worked on?"

Jenny sighed again. This girl was a challenge, she decided. "I used to have a '66 Pontiac GTO convertible. I dropped in a Chevy 396 engine." She got a nostalgic look in her eyes. "That thing was fast in a straight line, but it couldn't turn out of its own way!"

Melinda whistled. "Sounds like some kind of car."

Jenny laughed, a hollow sound. "Yeah. It was." She shook her head. "Now I drive a used pickup truck owned by my boss."

Melinda felt a little sorry for Jenny; she _knew_ what it was like for a "gearhead" to not have a car to work on. "Maybe on Sunday, you'd like to help me with my car?"

Jenny saw the opening. "Yeah," she answered quickly. "That would be fun. And maybe afterward, we can grab a bite to eat?"

Melinda pulled the truck in to the parking lot of the condo, and eased it into Jenny's covered parking spot. "I guess we're here." She sounded a little disappointed. She opened the door and began to climb out.

"You know," Jenny offered in a seductive voice, "it's a _long_ way up to my condo, and I really would like someone to make sure I don't get hurt."

Melinda laughed. "Or lonely? If you were drunk, I'd _have_ to take you home to make sure you made it."

"So you could take advantage of me, maybe?" Jenny said playfully. She saw Melinda's startled, yet eager, look. "Maybe you can come up for some coffee and conversation?"

Melinda gave Jenny a quick kiss, which a very surprised Jenny tried to prolong. "If I didn't have to take my little sister to band camp at six in the morning," she said after she broke the kiss, "I'd be _very_ tempted." She turned toward the park, but paused and glanced over her shoulder. "Maybe some other time?"

Jenny smiled. "I'll hold you to that."

**********

"Do you have today off, too?" Melinda sounded a little eager as she spoke into her phone. She waited for an answer. "I don't know. I just thought that, maybe, we could go hang out."

"I've got to pick up some things at the mall for my mom, and I thought you'd like to come along to keep me company." Another pause. "I figured we could think of something to do."

"Great! I'll pick you up in front of your condo in about an hour." Melinda hung up the phone. She was humming happily to herself as she finished getting ready. She looked in her dresser drawer and pulled out a white pair of shorts. She looked at it, doubting herself for a moment. Would Jenny think that she was being suggestive? "Maybe I _want_ Jenny to think I'm being suggestive," she said to herself with a grin. She pulled on a tight light-blue polo shirt, pausing to admire how it clung to her curves, and then practically skipped into the bathroom.

At first, Melinda had been shocked by the prospect of wearing makeup. It was only after she'd learned that the park's magic had given her the skill to apply make-up, that she dared to wear it. After only a few days, it seemed perfectly natural.

As she strode lightly past the kitchen on her way out, she called out, "See you later, Mom. I'm going out."

"Where to?" her mother called back.

"I'm going to pick up your dress, and then I'm just going to hang out with some friends." As she opened the door, an idea occurred to her. She paused and ran back to her room. Quickly, she gathered up what she was looking for, and with it under her arm, she walked happily to her car.

It was only a short drive to the condos by the park. As she pulled up to the entrance, Jenny came out of the building. She stopped and whistled appreciatively at the car. While she climbed in, she said, "Very nice."

"Thanks. I try to keep it looking good."

Jenny grinned. "I was talking about the driver. You look stunning."

"Oh, pooh! It's just something that I found in a drawer."

"I'd like to see what you have in your closet, then!"

In ten minutes, they were at the mall. The shop where Melinda had to pick up her mom's dress was close to the entrance. While they were waiting for the sales clerk to get the altered dress, Melinda and Jenny started casually looking at the clothing.

Jenny held up a dress. "Oooh," she purred. "I bet this would be cute on you!"

Melinda blushed. "I doubt it."

In answer, Jenny held the dress in front of Melinda, and then turned her so she was facing a mirror.

Melinda gasped. Jenny was right — the dress was darling. For a moment, she could see herself in the dress, dancing in a ballroom or at a fancy cocktail party with the rich and powerful.

"I doubt I'd ever get a chance to wear it, though," Melinda said almost reluctantly.

The two girls looked through some tops for a bit before the clerk returned with the dress for Melinda's mom. After checking the garment, Melinda put the box it was in under her arm and headed for the door. "How about some lunch?" she suggested to Jenny. "It's almost noon."

Jenny seemed to be thinking about something. She suddenly frowned. “I ... I lost my cell phone." She glanced over her shoulder. "I'm going to run back to see if it slipped out in the store." She started back towards the store.

Melinda turned. "Okay, I’ll come with you."

"Uh, no!" Jenny protested weakly. "It'll just take a sec. Why don't you just wait here?"

Melinda didn't quite understand Jenny's protest, but she shrugged. "Okay." She sat down on a bench to wait.

In moments, Jenny was back. “Got it!" she said with a smile. "Must have slipped out when I set my purse down to look at the blouses."

"I'm glad you found it," Melinda said with a smile. "How about lunch at that new deli? I've heard great things about it."

Jenny smiled. "That sounds like a good idea."

Ten minutes later, the girls were sitting at a booth, relaxing as they ate their lunch. Jenny smiled. "This is nice. I don't get out of the park for lunch very often, you know."

Melinda laughed. “I've _never_ been outside the park at lunchtime, since I started working there. I think the closest sandwich shop is almost two miles away!"

Jenny nodded. "Ronnie's going to develop some of the land near the condos and the park. Everyone has asked her to put in a good lunch spot. Maybe a soup and salad kind of place!"

"That would be nice. I get kind of tired of eating at the Tiki Hut every day," Melinda chuckled. "And I've only been doing it for a week!" Suddenly, her eyes lit up. "That gives me an idea of what we can do this afternoon. Let's go to the park and play! As customers, not as employees!"

"What?" Jenny was baffled.

"Sure! I bet you've never been there to just play, have you?"

Jenny shook her head. "But ... we _work_ there!"

"Not today, we don't! I checked — the Boss lets employees visit as guests twice a month. I bet you've _never_ used that privilege, have you?"

"Well, no..." Jenny shook her head. "It sounds kind of silly."

"It'll be fun. Besides, you'll get to see me in a bikini!" Melinda tempted her.

She saw Jenny looking down at her sandwich, embarrassed. "Did I say something wrong?" she asked, suddenly confused.

Jenny shook her head again. "It's just that ... I don't _own_ any swimwear!" she admitted. In truth, Jenny seldom wore anything besides her shorts and a T-shirt. They were comfortable.

Melinda laughed. "That's okay. They have some bikinis in the shop inside the gate, and, if worse came to worst, we could go back to the mall and get you one!" She saw Jenny's resistance crumbling. "You'll be a knockout in a bikini," she added. "And remember, I'll be with you — in _my_ bikini!"

If Jenny had been nervous about wearing a bikini, the thought of spending the day with Melinda overcame that reluctance— at least for now. "I guess." Jenny tried to sound hesitant, but failed.

Melinda saw through her façade. "Come on," she encouraged. "We'll have a blast!"

The two girls disposed of the remains of their lunch and walked out to Melinda's car. To Jenny's bewilderment, Melinda approached the passenger door and began to climb in. "You drive," Melinda said, holding out her keys. She read the hesitance in Jenny's expression. "You said you like cars, and that you don't get to drive much besides the company pickup. So you drive!"

Jenny _was_ a good driver. She handled the manual transmission well, not abusing either the clutch or the transmission, but making solid, quick gear shifts. She didn't over-rev the engine either upshifting or downshifting, either. Melinda saw a gleam in Jenny's eyes as they pulled into the parking lot.

Jenny looked at Melinda as she shut off the key. “I like your car," she said. Then she grinned. "Thanks. I haven't done that in … years."

Melinda took her swimsuit from the back seat, and with Jenny, walked to the employees' entrance. After swiping their passes, the two bypassed the women's locker and headed for the gift shop.

It was Melinda's turn to embarrass Jenny by holding up various bikinis to see what they'd look like on Jenny. The one Melinda liked best was actually an unusual one-piece, with two wide fabric strips sweeping up from the hips, over the breasts, and tying around the neck like a conventional bikini. It would leave Jenny exposed from the navel up between her breasts like a super-deep V-neckline, but it had little more modesty than a thong bikini. It was Kelly-green with silver accents; with Jenny's red hair, it could contribute to an Irish look. Melinda grinned appreciatively.

"I don't know," Jenny wasn't too sure. "It's kind of … bold, isn't it?"

Melinda settled the issue by taking the swimsuit to the counter. "We'll take this one," she announced. She showed her employee badge. "Charge it on my account."

"I can't let you …" Jenny started to protest.

"Too late!" Melinda cut off her objections. "I'm not going to pass the opportunity to see you wearing this!"

Jenny felt conflicted; she wasn't about to turn down the offer of friendship and generosity from Melinda, but she didn't want to feel obligated, either. She wasn't about to turn down a chance to spend the day relaxing in the park with Melinda, either. She sighed. "Okay." When Melinda signed the receipt, she continued. "Let's go change."

As they stepped out of the changing room into the entrance plaza, Jenny felt exposed. That changed when Anya and Grandmother happened to come out of the office.

Anya did a double-take. "Wow!" she exclaimed. "Look at you, girl!"

Grandmother patted Melinda on the arm. "Good for you," she said happily. "I'm glad to see that _someone_ can get Jenny's nose out of her trade journals and manuals and make her spend a little time _relaxing_! Lord knows how often I've tried!"

Jenny pouted, a look made even more alluring by her swimsuit. "I'm not _that_ bad, am I?"

Anya laughed. "You make me think of Scotty from 'Star Trek'. He hated shore leave, and wanted to spend his time with his engines and his technical journals!"

The old woman smiled. "You two have fun." She and Anya walked past, continuing on their errand, but the old woman stopped and glanced over her shoulder. “Jenny?"

Jenny was startled by her turn. She immediately suspected a problem with _her_ precious machinery. "Yes?"

"Under no circumstances are you to even _think_ of touching the equipment! You're a guest here! Got it?"

"But, if …." Jenny started to protest.

"Under _no_ circumstances! Other people know the procedures to reset the pumps, if needed. Are we clear on that?"

Jenny pouted. "I guess."

"And Jenny?"

Jenny looked up again.

"Have fun." The old woman was smiling pleasantly.

Melinda took Jenny's hand and led her into the park. "Wild Rivers, or Tropical Paradise?"

Jenny winced. She'd obviously never considered the park from a customer's point of view. "Maybe the lagoon to start?"

Melinda laughed. "Maybe the wave pool to start!" she countered.

Contrary to her fears, Jenny had a blast body-surfing in the wave pool. She delighted in the slides on the volcano. When she tried the plunge, she screamed as she shot down the slide, and as she climbed out of the runout slide, Melinda was laughing. Jenny quickly realized that her breasts had popped out of her swimsuit. She stuck her tongue out at Melinda readjusted her suit, then she started laughing herself.

The two floated around the Old Man River, climbing out at one point, so they could carry their tubes to the new whitewater run that twisted and turned and splashed down to where it rejoined the main river. Jenny was starting to understand why some rides were more popular than others.

As the afternoon wore on, they tried just about every ride they could, laughing and giggling, and, on more than one occasion, holding hands, as they walked down the paths between rides. At the end of the day, they decided to hang out in the hammocks by the lagoon, just resting and enjoying the view of the sun setting slowly behind the volcano and palm trees. It _felt_ like paradise, and neither girl really wished the day to end.

When they walked out to Melinda's car, Jenny was both exhausted and happy. They walked arm in arm, and Jenny was leaning on Melinda’s shoulder contentedly. "Thank you," Jenny said as they stopped to open the car door. "I had a wonderful time."

"The day's not over," Melinda offered.

Jenny smiled. "You wore me out." She kissed Melinda quickly. "Thank you."

Melinda smiled happily. "It was my pleasure." She kissed Jenny. "How about we get a light dinner?"

Jenny smiled. "That sounds good." She climbed in the car, while Melinda held the door for her, and sat back in her seat. She was happy. She'd had one of the best days in as long as she could remember.

By the time they got to the seafood restaurant, Jenny was asleep. True, it had been a long day, and it was already after eight, but Melinda was still surprised at just how tired Jenny was. She decided to not wake Jenny, but instead got some salads at a drive-through restaurant and headed back to Jenny's condo. She helped her weary companion up to her condo, and then, when Jenny sat down and promptly fell asleep on the sofa, Melinda moved Jenny to a more comfortable position.

Melinda put Jenny's salad in the refrigerator, scribbled a note, and left it on the refrigerator door, where Jenny couldn't miss it. Smiling, she bent over the weary girl and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you," she said again. Then she let herself out, locking the door behind her as she left.

**********

"You have exquisite taste in restaurants," Melinda said as she gazed across the table toward Jenny. Melinda was a picture of beauty in the dress that Jenny had secretly bought for her, the one that Jenny had said would be attractive on Melinda when they'd spent part of the day before doing errands at the mall.

"And in dinner companions," Jenny added with a smile.

"I was going to say that," Melinda replied with a grin. "Actually, I think _I_ have the best dinner company." She picked up her glass. "And I like your taste in wine. Cheers." She raised it briefly as if toasting, and then took a sip.

Jenny smiled and sipped from her glass. "I'm just glad you accepted my invitation."

Melinda laughed gently. "It sounded more like you were asking me out on a date."

Jenny tried to act surprised, but she couldn't manage it. "Actually, I was," she confessed. She saw that Melinda's glass was nearly empty, so she lifted the bottle from the ice bucket and poured Melinda some more wine. "And it only took me three days to get up the nerve to ask, too!"

Melinda laughed again. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" she asked.

"Moi?"

"Because you might not have to," Melinda added quickly and softly.

"You're already a bit tipsy."

Melinda shook her head, smiling. "No, I'm not. Not unless I'm drunk on you." She paused, as if embarrassed by what she'd said, and glanced at their dinner plates. "You know," she commented, "we've hardly touched our meals."

Jenny continued to stare into Melinda's eyes. "All I'm hungry for right now is you."

Melinda returned the lustful gaze. "I thought you were sexy from the first moment I saw you," she said softly. "You make me feel ... warm inside." She saw Jenny's eyes widen. "And it's not the wine."

"Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere more ... private?" Jenny suggested.

Melinda felt her heart patter. "Oh, God, yes!" she answered enthusiastically. "I was beginning to think that _I_ was going to have to ask _you_."

**********

Anya and her grandmother watched as Jenny strolled casually toward her workshop. She had a happy smile, and was whistling a tune as she walked.

"I've never seen her this ... happy before," Anya commented.

The old woman nodded. "I know," she said. She sounded sad.

"You don't approve of her being happy?" Anya asked.

"I _love_ seeing her so happy. Everyone deserves happiness."

"Jenny and Melinda have been seeing a _lot_ of each other, haven't they?" Anya asked, but her question sounded more like a statement of fact.

The old woman nodded. "Practically every night this week."

"I'm worried about Jenny," Anya said bluntly.

The old woman nodded. "So am I."

"Are they falling in love?" Anya asked, and then she laughed. "You know that when love is involved, the 'sight' doesn't work very well!"

"I know," the old woman laughed. "That just means you need to work on it more." She sighed. "I'm afraid for Jenny. Melinda is temporary. In a few days, she goes back to being Mitch."

**********

Melinda hummed to herself as she walked down the path. Any of the park's patrons who saw her would think nothing of seeing a park lifeguard, in her red one-piece swimsuit, walking between the rides and pools.

Melinda, though, wasn't walking to another ride or pool. She stopped and opened a gate marked "Employees Only". Around a corner, unseen from the main paths, a low building squatted. Melinda smiled as she stepped to the door. Carefully, so as not to make any noise, she twisted the door handle and eased the door open a crack. Melinda smiled as she slipped through the door, closing it gently behind herself.

Across the room, a figure in a pink T-shirt and shorts was bent over a workbench. Her long red hair, tied back in a ponytail, swayed back and forth along the sweaty back of her T-shirt as she worked.

Melinda crept silently across the floor, and slid her arms around the figure as she leaned forward and began to kiss her lover’s neck.

"Mmmm," Jenny purred as she straightened and leaned back against Melinda, reveling in the attention she was receiving. "You know I'm supposed to be working."

Melinda nibbled on Jenny's ear. "Yeah. But I didn't want to waste a break."

Jenny pulled herself back and turned, slipping her arms around Melinda's neck. She kissed Melinda passionately. When the kiss ended, she leaned back, and laughed.

"I didn't think I was _that_ bad a kisser," Melinda feigned a pout.

Jenny shook her head, still chuckling. "You're great, but now you've got some of my 'makeup' on, too!" She wiped at the grease smudge on Melinda's cheek.

"I don't care," Melinda replied as she leaned forward and kissed Jenny again.

**********

Liz sat down across the break room from Melinda. "You know," she said lightly, "I'm going to miss you. You're a good life-guard."

Melinda blushed at the compliment. "Well, I'm just doing my job."

"I hope you'll oblige us for the customary 'going away' dinner tonight?"

Melinda smiled. "I have a ... previous engagement."

Liz laughed. "I thought that might be the case." She stood, walked to where Melinda sat, and offered her hand. After Melinda stood, Liz gave her a big hug. "You can work with me any time."

Melinda felt her eyes misting. "Thanks. I've loved it here. It's been a real treat to work with you all."

Liz dropped her arms. "Are you sure we can't convince you to stay?"

Melinda laughed. "Believe me, the thought _has_ crossed my mind."

Liz grinned. "Is it because of all of us at the park, or because of Jenny?"

Melinda dropped her gaze and bit her lip.

Liz nodded somberly. "That's what I thought. You know, I'm _very_ worried about Jenny. She's very much in love with you."

Melinda turned away. "I know," she said softly. "I know." She wiped her cheeks. "I'm afraid one of us is going to get hurt."

Liz put her hand on Melinda's shoulder. "Or both of you."

**********

"You haven't touched your dinner," Melinda observed. She sat across the table from Jenny, in a booth in what had become their favorite restaurant. They'd eaten there every night since their first date.

Jenny shook her head, lowering her eyes. "I ... don't feel much like eating." She turned and wiped her cheek. "I wish ... it wasn't ending like this," she sobbed.

When Jenny turned back toward her, Melinda saw that Jenny's tears were flowing freely. "I wanted to have a special night with you," she said softly. "Dinner, maybe dancing, and then ..."

Jenny shook her head. "I can't. It already hurts too much. One more night would just make it worse."

"I thought ..."

Jenny wiped her left cheek again. "No. I wouldn't want to let you leave, and when you change back ..."

Melinda dropped her gaze. "I ...."

Jenny looked at her, tears streaming down her cheeks. "This is goodbye, isn't it?"

Melinda paused, and then nodded slowly, her own eyes leaking tears.

In response, Jenny slipped around the table, sat down beside Melinda, and put her hands on Melinda's cheeks. She moved forward and kissed Melinda, long and passionately. There was something missing, though. Happiness was gone. Joy was absent. It _felt_ like a goodbye kiss.

"I ... love you," Jenny said through tears as she stood. "Goodbye." Her words were soft, but her intention was unmistakable and bore a sad finality. She turned and fled the restaurant, not even once looking behind her.

**********

Jenny drove to the park, and sat in the parking lot, staring at the gate for a long time. She let her tears roll off her cheeks, not even trying to stop them. Eventually, though, she drove the short distance to the condo building, to her parking spot.

As she walked into the building, she paused, as she normally did, to check her mail. She tossed the advertisements in the trash, and carried the remaining post to the elevator. As she rode the elevator up, she sorted through the envelopes. As expected, there were bills. But unexpectedly, she found a plain white envelope, with no return address, and its address hand-written.

When she got to her condo, she added the bills to a neat stack on her desk, and then she turned her attention to the plain envelope. She sat heavily in her chair, and slid her finger under the flap.

She started reading the letter, and she began sobbing anew, then crying aloud.

Dear Jenny,

I want you to know that this is the hardest letter I've ever written. You are very special to me. You're warm, and fun, and wonderful. You're so tender and loving. I wish this didn't have to end, but we both know that it has to. I have to resume my life as Mitch. I have a construction job, starting tomorrow.

I won't be coming back to the park. I can't bear to see you, because it would hurt me to know how much you mean to me, and that we can never be together. Even looking at your picture makes me cry. I also couldn't stand to see the pain in your eyes, knowing how much you will be hurting inside if we had to part again.

I wish you had never fallen in love with me. But I will _never_ be sorry for the time we had together. It was very special, and I will always cherish it, as I hope you will.

I'm sorry I hurt you. I love you.

Goodbye.

Melinda

Jenny let the letter fall to her lap as she began to cry. She continued crying long into the night.

**********

"You wanted to see me, Boss?" Jenny asked.

The old woman nodded. "We're having problems with the pump on the spillway slide again."

"I'll get right on it." Jenny didn't sound at all enthusiastic.

That’s number two on your list," the old woman added. "The wave pool has priority. Right now, it's a _calm_ pool, not a wave pool, and that's not what the customers expect. It always draws more customers than the spillway slide, anyway."

"Okay."

"Did you get the parts yet?" the old woman asked.

Jenny thought for a moment. "I think so."

"You _think_?" The boss shook her head. "Jenny, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Jenny replied without any thought. "I'm okay."

The old woman gestured to a chair. "Do you want to talk about Melinda?"

Jenny shook her head. "Not really." She dropped her gaze. "She sent me a 'Dear Jenny' letter."

Jenny _did_ need to talk about it, her protests to the contrary. Just thinking about the letter, and Melinda, was causing Jenny's eyes to mist. She wiped at a tear that was trying to run down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," the old woman said, her sympathy genuine. "Do you need to take a little time off?"

Jenny shook her head. "No." She appeared uncomfortable talking about Melinda. "Can I get back to work?"

The old woman closed her eyes for a moment, and nodded. “Yes." She watched Jenny turn and leave, staring after her and shaking her head.

Anya came in from the parking-lot entrance. She saw her grandmother staring at the door. "Jenny was just here, right?"

“Yes, she was." The old woman sounded quite sad.

Anya closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they were filled with sadness. "She's not going to make it, is she?"

The old woman shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Her work is slipping — badly. She's totally heartbroken."

"I was afraid that this was going to happen. I knew she fell hard for Melinda." Anya shook her head. "I don't know what to do."

The old woman sighed. "There's not much we _can_ do."

**********

Mitch glanced up from his food and spotted a familiar figure. With her long red ponytail and her ever-present Bikini Beach pink T-shirt and shorts. Jenny was hard to mistake for anyone else. Mitch felt a surge of unpleasant emotions, as he debated whether he should call to her or not. Even though it had been two weeks, his heart still ached when he thought about Jenny.

Unfortunately for Mitch, Jenny picked that moment to turn and look around. She, too, was getting a bite, and needed to find a place to sit. She spotted him.

Faced with the inevitable, Mitch waved.

Jenny paused visibly, having the same internal debate about whether to talk to Mitch or not. In the end, she sighed and moved to his table. "Hi," she said softly as she sat down.

"Hi," Mitch replied.

"How are you doing?" Jenny asked, forcing a conversation.

Mitch shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Work is keeping me busy — and tired. You know how construction jobs are. How are things ... at the park?"

Jenny's eyes were misting. "It's okay. The usual problems — routine maintenance, broken pumps. You know. It's busy." She lowered her gaze. "Things are busier than normal, though."

"Are ... you okay?"

Jenny looked down. "I'm fine," she lied.

"Really?" Mitch wasn't convinced.

Jenny shook her head. "I can't stop thinking about Melinda."

"I'm sorry."

Jenny looked up sharply. "About our ... relationship?"

Mitch shook his head, looking down. He couldn't stand to see the sadness in her eyes. "No. I'm sorry that I hurt you so badly. I really didn't mean to."

"I guess it still hurts," Jenny admitted after an awkwardly silent moment. "I kept your 'Dear Jenny' letter, because it reminds me of how much you cared, but that hurts, too."

Mitch felt his eyes starting to water. "I'm sorry, Jenny," he said again. "I'm so very, very sorry."

“Do you think we could try it like this?" he asked. “As a man and a woman?"

She shook her head sadly. “You _know_ that option wouldn’t work. Neither of us would be happy in that kind of a relationship. After what we had, could _you_ be happy … like that?"

“I know." He knew that he was fighting a losing battle against his own tears. He rose quickly and darted from the food court, leaving his food behind.

**********

Anya didn't normally go to the mall, but she _did_ need a new “power suit." Grandmother was having _her_ do a couple of presentations at the upcoming theme park trade show, and she needed to look her professional best.

As she strode casually toward the store, she was glancing about. After all, she never knew when _he_ and his store might be around, and it seemed like ages since she'd talked to her friend Danni, the wizard's apprentice.

Anya did a double-take, and changed direction. "Mitch," she called and hurried toward him.

Mitch turned at the sound of his name, scanning the crowd. He quickly spotted the source. "Anya," he answered cheerfully. He stopped walking, so Anya could catch up.

"What are you up to these days?" Anya asked as she fell in beside him.

"Construction work," Mitch shrugged.

"It must keep you busy," Anya replied lightly. "So, tell me why you're so down in the dumps."

Surprised by the fact that she'd read his emotions, despite his false bravado, Mitch turned to her. "I'm not ...." He saw the knowing look in her eyes, and he quit trying to lie. "How's Jenny?" he asked instead.

Anya started at his question. "I ask how you're doing, and your first question is about her?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Mitch nodded. "Yeah," he said sadly. "I ... really like her. And I'm so sorry that I hurt her."

Anya shook her head. "She's not doing well. She's really broken up inside."

Mitch sighed. "I know." He looked down. "So am I," he admitted softly. "I ... think I love her. She's special."

Anya put her hand gently on Mitch's arm. "Melinda was more than just her lover. She was Jenny's best friend. We never saw her as happy as when you two were ... together."

"I ... didn't know that. I thought she just liked me … physically," Mitch said. "Is Jenny going to be okay?"

Anya shook her head. "I don't think so."

Mitch's eyes widened with surprise.

Anya continued. "It's serious enough that her work is really slipping. Grandmother and I have both noticed. If she can't focus on keeping the park running ...." She left the sentence hang, but her meaning was very clear.

**********

"Anya."

Anya looked up from her computer. "Yes, Grandmother?"

"Jenny didn't go out with you girls last night, did she?"

Anya shook her head. "No. She hasn't been out with us for weeks."

"Do you think she'd accept counseling for depression?" the old woman asked.

"I don't know. Somehow, I doubt it. She can be very ... stubborn."

"And independent," the old woman added. "We'll have to ..." She stopped, a frown on her face. "Anya, can you leave, please? I've got a visitor coming, and I don't think you should be here."

Anya frowned. It wasn't like her grandmother to ask her to leave, _or_ to keep secrets from her. "Okay," she answered. She got up and walked stiffly out the park entrance door.

As soon as she was outside, Anya stopped and concentrated. She focused her magic, and “saw" that Mitch was walking across the parking lot toward the office. Her eyes widened in surprise. About then, however, her “sight" went dark. She wondered if her grandmother was using her own power to mask Anya's sixth sense. Anya stamped her foot in frustration; she _really_ wanted to know what Mitch was up to.

Half an hour later, she sensed Mitch leaving the office. She waited a minute more before she walked back into the office.

"What was Mitch doing here?" she asked bluntly as she sat down at her desk. "Is he coming to work for us again?"

Grandmother was startled for a moment by Anya's knowledge of her visitor's identity, but then she smiled. She _had_ been insisting that Anya practice her 'sight' more, after all. "No, he's not coming back to work."

"Then ... what?" Anya was puzzled — her sight didn't work well when love was involved.

"It was something else, entirely," the old woman said enigmatically.

**********

Jenny trudged slowly toward her workshop, looking down as she walked. Even though it was a beautiful, sunny day, she felt gloomy. She sighed and pushed open the door and walked through, letting it close behind her. She glanced around, as if she might find something to cheer her up. Alas, there was nothing.

As Jenny neared her workbench, she spied something that didn't belong there. It was ... an envelope. She felt a surge of panic; she still had _the_ letter — in fact, she cried over it nightly.

Steeling her nerves, she stepped to the bench and picked up the envelope. This time, the address was typed, giving no hint as to its origin. With trepidation, she opened the envelope and extracted the letter.

She recognized the handwriting at once, and she almost dropped the letter. She forced herself to read.

My dearest Jenny,

I am so very sorry that I hurt you. I can't stand to see the pain in your eyes. There's pain in my heart, too. I realized that I loved you, just as I realized how much you loved me.

Jenny's tears were flowing freely. She made herself continue.

We both know that things couldn't work as they are now. You didn't fall in love with Mitch, but with Melinda, even though Melinda and Mitch are two sides of the same coin.

More than anything, I want you to be happy.

Please turn around.

Slowly, fearfully, Jenny turned from her bench, toward the door. A gasp escaped her lips. She wasn't sure if she was seeing things, but she ran across the floor to wrap her arms around her love, around Melinda, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

After Jenny had cried and hugged Melinda for several seconds, she backed up a half step, her hands lifting to gently cradle Melinda's cheeks. "I ... don't understand," she said.

Melinda smiled. "I'm back."

Jenny turned away, sobbing. "Please, don't. I can't ... go through losing you. Not again."

Melinda put her hands on Jenny's shoulders. "You won't have to. I'm never going away."

"But ..." Jenny turned, gazing at Melinda with a confused look. "Your college. Your family." She shook her head. "You have your life. I _can't_ ask you to give up all that!"

Melinda smiled warmly. "You don't have to. The way things are now, my family always had _two_ daughters, not one. And opportunities for women engineers are plentiful — actually better than for men." Melinda explained. "The way reality rewrote itself, I got a good scholarship ... as Melinda. And I've got a summer job — at the park expansion. I _do_ have to be a girl to work there, you know."

Jenny shook her head. "I don't want you to do that for me! I can't do that to you."

Melinda smiled. "You didn't. I decided on my own. With two brothers, I sometimes felt like I was redundant. And while I was working at the park, it seemed like I got along with my mom and my sister much better. It all fit."

"You ... can't!" Jenny protested again. "What if ...?"

Melinda's smile broadened. "Too late. I already bought a lifetime membership. I'm all girl, now and forever." She looked down, not sure how to continue and afraid of what she might hear. "I'm _your_ girl, if you'll have me."

Jenny was frozen with surprise for a moment, but as soon as she knew that she’d really heard what Melinda had said, she wrapped her arms around Melinda and pulled her closer so she could give a proper answer with a very passionate kiss.

**********

Anya looked up sharply from her computer. She felt a smile creep across her face. She turned to her grandmother. "Jenny is going to be okay," she announced.

Grandmother nodded. "Yes, she will."

"So _that's_ what Mitch was here for — getting a lifetime pass?"

The old woman nodded. "He and I had a very long talk, so he would understand the enormity of what he was seeking to do. He knows that it's going to be a bit difficult for him, for a while. He knows that, someday, he and Jenny might break up, and then his entire reason for becoming a girl would be gone. It didn’t matter to him. His love for Jenny was much stronger than any reasons he could give for staying as Mitch."

"So ... you didn't want me around, in case I might accidentally spill the secret to Jenny?"

Grandmother smiled. "No, dear. I trust you to keep a secret. But Mitch wouldn't have been as free to talk with two of us. He knows that you and Jenny are very good friends, and I was concerned that he might think that your opinion was biased. He likes you and trusts you — as a friend, but he needed a ‘parent’ to discuss this with."

"I hope they'll be very happy," Anya said wistfully. "They deserve it."

Grandmother clucked. "If you'd been practicing with the 'sight', you'd know the answer to that instead of having to hope or wish. But I agree. They deserve happiness."

**********

Epilogue

Jenny gave Melinda a big hug as the other passengers pushed and ducked around them. "I'm going to miss you," she said, as she wiped a tear from her eye.

Melinda smiled. "And I'll miss you, too." She gave Jenny a quick kiss. "I have to board now. I know three months seems like a long time. I promise I'll call you every day, and text you as often as I get a chance." She hugged Jenny again. "I wish I didn't have to go."

Jenny shook her head. “That fellowship is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. You _need_ to go."

Melinda wrapped her arms around Jenny, holding her tight. "I love you."

Jenny returned the embrace. "When you get back, we can talk about you moving in with me?"

"We won't just talk, my love! I'll be counting the days, until I can be with you all of the time." Melinda forced herself to step into the line, before it got any longer, and she missed her flight. She blew Jenny a kiss, and started moving through the winding path to the security checkpoint.

Anya put her hand on Jenny's shoulder, causing her to flinch. Jenny hadn't seen Anya coming behind her. "You'll be okay," she reassured Jenny.

"I know," Jenny said. "It's just that I'll miss her."

"You have the rest of your 'family'," Anya reminded her. "We're here for you." She hugged Jenny, but Anya suddenly felt something, as if her “sight" had given her a brief view of events to come. She realized, as she focused on the vision, that Melinda's absence _was_ going to be felt terribly by Jenny, especially as Jenny faced some type of family crisis. "We all wish she was staying," Anya said. "She's part of the extended family, too."

Anya knew that she was going to have to focus her 'sight' a little more. Whatever difficulty Jenny was in for, she knew it was going to be rough. Jenny was going to need all the help she could get.

"How about if I treat for dinner tonight?" Anya suggested. “Maybe that new Chinese restaurant?"

FIN

Synopsis: Fred's life is coming apart, and in his desperation, he is gambling on a very extreme strategy. After a meeting with Anya at the park, however, he discovers a new, less final way to save what's important to him.

**********************************************************************

This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Most of you know me. You've seen me countless times, I'm sure. And yet, if you met me on the street, there is no chance that you'd recognize me. I prefer it that way; I'm a little ... embarrassed by my occupation. To say that it's unusual would be an understatement. Unlike many models, I can bask in my anonymity, content with a perfectly normal - or mostly normal - life.

It all started a couple of years ago. Things weren't nearly as rosy then as they are now.

I used to work in the IT department of a dot-com company. Hah, that's a joke! At the end, I _was_ the IT department. What started as a very promising career move ended up being a cruel joke by the fates. One month after I exercised my stock options, the market tanked. To make a long story short, I had to sell at a huge loss to avoid major tax liability. That wiped out our savings.

Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention. I'm married. Elise and I met in college; she was a sophomore when I was a senior. When I got my bachelor's degree, she quit, preferring marriage to the rigors of getting a degree. Elise is about average height and quite shapely. Auburn hair, brown eyes - what can I say? I was helpless before her charms. And me? I laugh. I'm not much to look at. Six-foot nothing, one-hundred sixty pounds. Light brown hair, and strong Norse features - at least, that's what my grandpa Ole always said. I'll never win a contest on looks. But obviously, something caught Elise's eye.

We're quite happily married now, but for a while, it was touch and go. As the company slowly sank, Elise and I started fighting. It was hard on our kids, Jeremy and Melissa. Jeremy's grades started to sink, and Melissa got pretty withdrawn and rebellious. With no savings, saddled with a mortgage payment we could no longer afford, we were living hand-to-mouth on what was left of my salary and Elise's job as cashier at the local WalMart.

Things kept getting worse. My car was repossessed; I ended up with a third-hand broken-down Ford Escort. The kids needed some major counseling to handle the situation; hell, Elise and I needed some counseling. But with the cutbacks, we didn't have any health insurance, and so the counseling didn't happen.

After one royal knock-down drag-out argument that lasted most of a night, I moved a few things into my office at work. To my thinking, it really didn't matter; it saved on gas and frustration commuting, and besides, I spent so much time there anyway. Of course, that added to Elise's burden, so our weekend battles became even more heated.

I knew the worst was coming with my job. One day, we were all dreading it; the next, it happened. It wasn't like we weren't ready; my own resume had been on the street for a few months. But the entire area was suffering, and jobs were rare. I didn't get anything. I went from a high-flying IT manager to an associate PC salesman at a department store. At least it was a job.

We were stuck in a quagmire. Elise talked about finishing school, but we couldn't afford to give up her income. There was no way we could sell the house; the housing market collapsed right with the job market. We owed more than it was worth - a lot more. Slowly, day by day, we slipped further and further behind. The creditors were starting to call. And I was raised too proud to file for bankruptcy.

I was at the brink of disaster. No matter what I tried, what plan I came up with, there was no way forward. We were ruined. As I sat, evening after evening, wallowing in self-pity, I began to think that it was my fault. Everything that Elise and the kids were suffering through was because of some poor judgment on my part. If only I'd stayed with the big government contractor. If only I'd have bailed at the first sign of trouble. If, if, if. Let me tell you, when you start to dwell on all the 'ifs', you're pretty close to rock-bottom.

Counseling would have caught the dark turn my thoughts were taking - if we could have afforded it. Black thoughts engulfed me, thoughts originating from a depression so deep as to leave me helpless. And strangely, the thoughts started leading to a desperate gamble to save Elise and the kids.

There was one ace left up my sleeve. We had mortgage insurance on the house, and the company had left me with a life insurance policy. It wasn't much, but it was a couple hundred thousand - enough for Elise and the kids to pick up their lives and start over again.

Slowly, my twisted plan took shape. Late one autumn morning, after the kids left for school and Elise started a double shift at WalMart, I sat at my computer and typed a note explaining that I still loved Elise, and I was sorry that I couldn't provide the kind of life she deserved. I was going to take my own life so she could escape the poverty trap I'd led my family into.

With the note done, I e-mailed it to Elise. She'd find it when she got home - probably around eleven that night. I carefully took the photographs of Jeremy and Melissa from the frame on my desk and tucked them into my shirt pocket. I did the same with our wedding picture. Somehow, I think I was expecting the familiar images to comfort me as I set about my own demise. I marched out the door of our house for the last time.

The plan was simple; I'd drive along the coast road as fast as the little car could go, and then deliberately swerve into a bridge support pillar. At nearly ninety miles per hour - I'd checked to see just how fast the little car could still manage - and with no seat belt, I calculated my chance of survival at almost perfectly zero. I was lost in a strange trance as I drove. Everything passed in slow motion, like I was already separated from time itself. Signs I'd never noticed seemed to float ethereally by the car.

It was then I saw the sign. Bikini Beach Water Park. Funny, but as often as I'd driven that road, I'd never noticed it before. I turned my attention back to the road. And then, I turned back to the sign. Something about it seemed to be beckoning to me.

My mind, twisted as it was by my mission of doom, reformulated my plan. Okay, so dying in a flaming twisted wreck suddenly didn't seem so good. It wouldn't be fair for Elise to have to identify my remains. But if I just simply drowned .... I gave my glove compartment a quick check; the sleeping pills were still there from all the nights I'd actually slept in the car to avoid another fight with Elise. New plan. Take a large dose of pills, and then go to the deep pools. I could barely swim, and if I were tired too, well .... I smiled to myself. If I drowned at the park, maybe Elise could sue the pants off the owner as well.

My foot switched from the gas to the brake and I turned into the parking lot. Still not knowing why, I walked slowly across the hot asphalt toward the ticket booth. There was no line at the booth, but a steady stream of women, young and old alike, walked directly to the entrance turnstiles and entered the park. I stepped up to the booth nervously.

The young lady inside smiled sadly at me. I felt a chill run down my spine; it felt like my soul was naked before her, and she understood my predicament. "Hello, Fred," she said, her voice matching the sad look in her eyes. "I'm glad you decided to come."

I was so bent on my own destruction I that I didn't even notice that she'd called me by name. "I'd like a...ticket. Please."

The pretty brunette handed me a ticket as if she'd been expecting me. "This is a one-day pass. It expires at midnight. And please remember to shower. Health department regulations, you know."

Numbly, I took the ticket and joined the line of people waiting at the turnstiles. A couple of girls looked at me and started to giggle, but when I looked at them, the giggling stopped, replaced by looks of surprise before the eyes darted away. I'm sure my face was an unpleasant mask of black determination, a grim outer sign of the doom I felt in my soul.

The men's room was strangely quiet and small. It seems odd now, but at the time, I barely noticed. I stripped off my clothes and pulled on the swim trunks which were somehow in my hand. For the briefest of seconds, I wondered how I'd come to be holding them, since the only trunks I had were still at home in my dresser. But then I pulled on the shorts and stepped mechanically to the shower, twisting the lever and stepping under the warm stream of water.

My strangely-heightened senses marveled at how the water seemed to be massaging every fiber of my body, leaving my muscles tingling and refreshed in a way I hadn't felt for months. The strange thing was, the tingling didn't stop when I shut off the shower.

Little things were feeling odd, but not alarmingly unusual. The shower handle seemed higher at the end of the shower than it had mere moments before when I'd first turned the shower on. The shower seemed infinitesimally larger, as if it had grown ever so slightly. Even the locker room, outside the shower stall, seemed subtly changed.

As I stepped out of the shower stall, I got the odd feeling that my balance was off. My casual stride seemed altered somehow, like my center of balance was lower. I could feel my hips moving side-to-side as I walked, ever more hesitantly, toward the door. Something wet slapped at my neck, and annoyed, I swatted a hand behind my head.

With the awkward jerk of my arm, I felt something move on my chest. Something tugged and pulled against my pectoral muscles in a way I'd never felt before. It seemed as though a weight hung from my chest. I frowned, displaying my frustration and irritation at these minor nuisances. Up until now, the heightened awareness had been interesting, even fun. But now it had gone overboard, I was convinced, sending jumbled messages from my body to my brain. To highlight the absurdity of what my brain was trying to tell me, it seemed as though my feet were smaller, exposing less skin to the tile floor and thus not being as chilled! Of course, this was a totally preposterous notion I assured myself with my well-practiced left-brain thinking.

And then I turned the corner and saw the mirror.

The abrupt shift in my thinking slammed my logical left-brain. All the facts had been gathered, filed neatly into categories for later analysis. Even as I'd been walking, the analysis had begun. I can vividly remember, just milliseconds before I rounded the corner, that the facts weren't making any sense, that the hypothesis required to have the data fit was an impossibility.

But, as I said, I saw the mirror. The impossible was suddenly confirmed as not only possible, but also real. My left-brain struggled to fit the new data, to somehow, impossibly rationalize my reflection in the mirror. It failed, and in a desperate attempt to deal with the inconceivable, it turned control over to my under-utilized right brain, which in turn panicked. All the right brain could think of doing, given the facts so neatly laid out before it, was to scream.

There I stood, staring open-mouthed at the impossible reflection of a young semi-nude girl, and screaming just like the stereotypical girl would. I even sounded the part, higher in pitch and lacking in the resonance of standard male vocal apparatus.

After what seemed an eternity, but in reality was only about a minute, my left-brain decided it had had enough rest. My head dropped as I moved my gaze from the mirror to my actual body.

On my chest were a pair of magnificent feminine orbs, easily a large B if not C cup. My hands, transformed somehow into the fine delicate feminine shape that they now held, shot up toward the breasts. And yet, somehow, though I desperately wanted to touch them, as if to prove that they were a mere illusion, I couldn't will my hands to move that last centimeter. They stopped, cupped, just shy of the mammaries, their female shape belying the fact that I'd been male scant moments earlier. Clinically, I noted that my fingernails now extended half an inch beyond my fingertips, with a coating of light burgundy or maroon enamel.

Between my breasts was a valley inviting my gaze downward. My stomach had none of the well-toned and defined abs that I'd struggled to keep, even through the marital problems and hyper-extended work hours. My stomach was flat and smooth, extending to a moderately narrowed waistline. Further down, I could see that the swim trunks had been altered as well; now, instead of generic boxer shorts, my hips and crotch were clad in a modest but still revealing bikini bottom, a scanty bit of light blue spandex which barely covered my crotch.

The sides of the bikini rode high on my hips, revealing shapely curves that were impossible for a man. Though I couldn't see, I could tell from the feel that the changes had affected my posterior as well; I knew that when I looked, my ass would be rounder and more womanly. My hips extended down into smooth legs, barren of hair and seductively curvy, ending in petite little feet with painted toenails, unlike my male size thirteens.

There was no getting around the one final check. My right hand slid down slowly, inexorably, until my fingers caught the waistband of my bikini. I held my breath as I tugged outward, pulling the bikini away from my body, trembling with dread anticipation. Finally, I acknowledged the last bit of evidence, and with a soft slap, the waistband snapped back against my tummy.

It was gone. My manhood. My dick. The big _it_. My crotch was empty. Well, not really empty. Just devoid of a male sex organ. The main problem was that what I _did_ have was female apparatus.

My right brain tried to force a panic attack while I contemplated the totality of the change. Fortunately, my left-brain caught the move and force my emotions back into check; now was definitely _not_ the time to panic. I could feel the tug-of-war raging in my head; my logical half wanted to fully analyze the situation, to see if it was some elaborate trickery or illusion, and if not, to understand how such a change could have been manifested. But my emotional brain, already charged with dark emotions from my current quest, wanted to cry out in anger and rage. It wanted to find and punish whoever was responsible for this assault on my identity.

I glanced back at the mirror, at the face I now wore. My hands shot to my cheeks. I was pretty! Not gorgeous, but also far from homely. I had the face of an attractive young woman. My eyes looked bigger and softer; I rationalized that since my face was smaller, they only looked bigger. My lips were definitely fuller than they had been, but only a little. For some reason, I was relieved that I didn't have the full pouty lips I'd seen so often on strippers and sex idols. As quick as the thought came, it vanished, leaving me puzzled as to its origin.

My cheeks were a bit more defined, enough to make me look more feminine. Gone was the rugged chin and strong manly nose. My new nose was smaller, more refined, and ever-so-slightly upturned, giving it a graceful and dainty appearance. My chin was soft and smooth, devoid of the perpetual five-o-clock shadow that had plagued me since puberty, and without the squared appearance so treasured by past movie-stars like the Duke. And my hair! It was a light brown, almost strawberry blonde in appearance, although I knew that hint of red could be an artifact of the lighting. Though it was wet and hung limply about my neck, I guessed that the style was feathered from bangs in front to just past shoulder-length in back.

A knock interrupted my self-analysis. I felt my jaw drop, and I suddenly realized that I was about to get caught in this body - and that I was going to have some explaining to do. My hands clutched automatically over my exposed breasts even as the door opened.

The stab of bright sunlight momentarily hid the intruder; when the door banged shut, I could see it was the brunette from the ticket booth. She gave me a knowing smile. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming out."

I stared open-mouthed at her for half a lifetime. "You ... know? You know I changed?"

She smiled pleasantly. "Yes, Fred, I know." She held up a bikini top, which she'd somehow produced. She grinned. "Yes, I made the swimming trunks the same way."

My mind raced. She was one hell of an illusionist. Or .... My left brain ruled out the other possibility, but my right brain kept reminding it of one of Sherlock Holmes' principles. When you've ruled out all other answers, the one that remains, no matter how illogical, must be the truth. It had to be ....

"Magic," the girl confirmed. "My grandmother and I use magic to run this park." She got a wry grin. "By the way, my name is Anya. It's a pleasure." The grin faded. "I hope." Quite abruptly, she sounded deadly serious.

I gulped. It was as if she knew the mission I'd been on. "Fred Lewis." Then I shook my head, feeling silly. She knew that. She'd called me by name at the ticket booth.

Anya nodded, barely smiling. She stepped around me, to the locker I'd stashed my gear in. Deliberately, she pulled out the bottle. "I hope you won't be needing these." She slipped the sleeping pills into her pocket.

I started to object, then I dropped my gaze. I'd been caught, and I knew it. Slowly, everything started to come unglued; it felt as if every stitch of my life's tapestry were coming unfurled at once. My mind reeled under the assault of a year's worth of bad memories. And then, somehow, the dark clouds of my mind parted for a second, illuminating my intentions, and I staggered in the sudden light. I started to collapse, and Anya caught me, guiding me to one of the benches.

"I brought you here," Anya said slowly after I'd cried for at least ten minutes, something I hadn't done since fourth grade. I looked up, into her soft sympathetic eyes. "I could feel your dark thoughts, and I knew I had to do something."

"You ... brought me here?"

Anya nodded. "I had to do something!" she said in protest. "You were about to throw away the gift of life! I ... couldn't let that happen." There was pain in her eyes, an unspoken agony that I felt rather than saw.

"I don't understand." The words sounded distant, as if someone else was speaking. "You...brought me here? How?"

The corners of Anya's mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Magic. I ... sensed your thoughts." She tried to suppress a shudder, but failed. "I ... helped you think that the car crash idea wasn't good, and I substituted the drowning idea."

It wasn't making any sense. None of it. "But why ...?"

Anya shook her head sadly. "Your ... decision ... would have a profound impact on your wife and children." She saw my eyes widen. "Oh, yes," she said slowly. "I may not be as good as grandmother, but I'm learning to ... read ... the future."

"So you turned me into a girl?" My mind mulled the possibilities. "So ... what? You changed reality or something?"

Anya shook her head. "No, nothing that drastic. You've just turned into a girl. It's just a local change, affecting only you." She flashed a little grin. "It's much easier that way. Bending reality is really hard work."

I felt my eyebrows lower into a frown. "So if I'm still me ..." I shook my head. "That means nothing is changed. I've still got nothing to live for." I dropped my gaze to the floor, tasting bitter defeat once more.

Anya lifted my chin so she could look me in the eyes. "I've given you a chance to think. A chance to look for another way." A sudden grin crossed her face. "As Spock would say, there are always alternatives."

My mouth dropped open; she'd read my mind and knew that the Star Trek quote would get my attention. I sat, dumbfounded, contemplating what she'd said.

Anya had a serious expression. "Promise me you won't do anything drastic in the park," she said in a soft but commanding voice. She stared at me, sensing my hesitation. "Promise me."

I knew she wasn't going to let me leave without a promise, and I knew she knew that once I gave my word, I'd never go back on it. "Okay, I promise." The answer came slowly, but when I glanced up, I saw that Anya was satisfied.

"Now why don't you go out and have some fun. Try to relax." She stood and pulled me to my feet. "I've always found that when I quit thinking about a problem, the answer appears." Then she noticed that she was still holding the bikini top. "Oh, and put this on. Grandmother really doesn't like topless sunbathing."

I took the small wad of blue fabric, and with an ease that startled me, I put it on as if I'd been doing it all my life.

Anya read the surprise on my face, and she laughed. "When you change, you kind of inherit some feminine skills." She took my arm and led me to the door. "By the way, you really can't go by Fred here." She eyed me up and down, and I felt my cheeks redden. "Not like that, anyway."

"Felicity," I said softly, speaking the first word that popped into my brain.

"Huh?"

"Felicity." I turned to Anya, a half-smile creeping onto my features. "It was my grandmother's name, and if I'd have been born a girl, dad said they'd have named me Felicity."

Not quite knowing what to expect, I let Anya lead me out of the locker room. A couple of ladies glanced my way, their faces bearing a knowing little smile, and I looked away even as the red stain of embarrassment lit up my cheeks. "Does everyone here know...that I've been changed?" I finally asked Anya.

She laughed, a very delightful and pleasant sound. "No, not everyone. And if you just relax, no-one else will know either."

I glanced around, and saw that she'd been leading me deeper into the park. I saw women and girls strolling about, happy and carefree, all enjoying the amenities of the park. Slowly, it dawned on me that I wasn't seeing any guys. I turned to Anya to ask her.

She must have read my mind again. "No, there aren't any guys here, Felicity." She smiled as she used my 'adopted' name. "This is a haven for ladies, a refuge from the prying and lecherous eyes of men." It sounded just like it had come from a sales brochure. "So you won't have to worry about any guys hitting on you."

I nearly stumbled; to be honest, I hadn't considered that angle. "Uh, Anya? When do I change back? Or do I?"

Anya seemed taken aback by my question, then she laughed. "Just changing you into a girl wouldn't solve your problems, and it would have made more for your family. So yes, you do change back. Sometime around midnight, when the pass expires."

"Oh."

"Anya!" A voice was calling out behind us. "Anya!" Anya and I turned in unison, looking down the path to see who was calling her. One of the staff, prominent in her Bikini Beach polo shirt, came trotting up to us. "I thought I saw you coming down this way."

Anya frowned at the intrusion; I guessed that this was about business. "What's up, Vicky?"

Vicky gave me a quick once-over, then turned her attention to Anya. "Greg is at the front gate. He said it's important."

Anya's frown deepened. "Why doesn't he just come in?" Even as she spoke, I could see the answer dawning on her features. "The ad shoot," she said. She gave me a quick glance, and I could see her concern. "If he's here ...." She seemed to be concentrating for a moment, her eyes half closed and her brow furrowed. Then she looked up at me and smiled. "Come on, Felicity. Let's go see what Greg needs, then I'll finish your tour of the park."

Apart from learning that Greg was Anya's boyfriend, I learned nothing during the walk back to the gate. I noticed a rather average looking guy standing by the turnstile, watching with a detached interest as girls came and went from the park. I knew, instantly, that he was attached, and while he was watching the girls walk by, it wasn't with any interest. But as we neared, his eyes riveted on Anya and he broke into a smile. I knew that this guy was Greg. He was several years younger than me - and probably still a student. He had a very exuberant grin, a boyish innocence that was reminded me of all the new hires at my old company. Full of youth and hope and ambition, unaware of the perils that awaited them in the fiercely competitive real world. Someday, I knew, Greg's optimism would be dashed, to be replaced by a more realistic cynicism.

Anya stepped through the exit gate and gave him a quick hug. I was left alone, standing inside the gate, wondering why I was there. "Problem?" she asked.

Greg sighed. "Can't fool you," he said in mock protest. "One of the models came down with food poisoning." He looked very unhappy. "So Randy isn't going to be able to finish the job and we won't get paid."

Anya looked very troubled. "And you've already fronted the models ..."

Greg nodded. "About three thousand," he finished. He rolled his eyes. "I was hoping maybe you could..."

Anya shook her head; she knew what Greg was going to ask. "Nope," she said simply. "Once - maybe. But not again. Remember? You agreed."

Greg nodded slowly. "I know," he said. Then he looked up, right at me. His eyes were focused on me like laser beams, scanning me up and down. I felt a chill run down my spine. "But if your friend here ..."

Anya glanced at me, then she got a wicked grin. "You know, that just might work."

"What are you talking about?" I asked nervously. I sensed that the two of them were up to something, and I didn't like the feeling it gave me.

Anya nodded to Greg. "Meet you in the office," she directed. He started walking toward a low gray building, while Anya took my hand and pulled me the same direction. "Greg is an amateur photographer," she explained. "He and a fraternity brother bid on a job for a department store chain. They got the bid, but one of the models had to back out. What Greg fears is that if they don't have enough different models, they'll lose the contract, and the money they've already fronted to the models."

We paused a moment to step into the building, into the water park's office. Anya gestured toward a chair, and I sat. I felt my actions were odd; for some reason, my legs refused to splay out at a relaxed angle from my slumped body; instead, I sat upright, and my left leg crossed automatically over the right one. I shuddered when I realized that it was a very ladylike action.

Greg joined us. He sat down the way I would have, had I been a guy. "Okay, I'll get right to the point. We're doing a photo shoot for the ladies' clothing section of a spring sale catalog."

I felt my jaw dropping open. "Ladies' ... clothing?" I glanced at Anya and saw her nod. "You want me to model ... ladies' clothing?"

Greg glanced at me, puzzled, and then slowly, his eyes widened. "Oh," he mouthed softly, and in that one sound, he indicated that he knew everything.

Anya glanced at me, then back at Greg. "Why don't you wait outside so we can talk?" She scooted him out the office door, then came back beside me.

Before she could say anything, I laid into her. "What the hell do you think you're doing with me?" I demanded. "First, you change my body. And now you want me to pose in ladies' clothes for a catalog?"

Anya let me rant, all the while staring impassively at me. Finally, she laid her hand gently on my arm. "There are always alternatives," she said. I shut up, rebuked by the words of Spock. "Look, Fred," Anya said bluntly, "you were going to kill yourself for some insurance money. Now, with a little temporary change, you have an opportunity to make some money - and still be around for your wife and kids. That sounds like a pretty good opportunity if you ask me."

I frowned. The logic of what she was saying was perfect. Still .... "But as a girl? In girls' clothes and stuff?"

Anya grinned. "Look on the bright side." She watched my mouth drop open; how could there be a bright side to any of this. "No one except you, me, and Greg, will ever know it was you. No one." She sensed that my determination was softening. "There's a five hundred dollar modeling fee, and if any of pictures are used, a bonus of fifty per picture." She nodded as I grasped the potential. "That's more than you make in a week at your sales job. And it's just for one afternoon of photos."

I was torn. A ray of hope had entered my miserable life. And yet, that ray had a downside that was, frankly, weird. Sure, this looked good. But for the long term... "I don't know," I mumbled. "It'll help. But only for a few days."

Anya nodded to me. "Right now, you need to take things one day at a time." She sensed my hesitation, and she continued. "Which is easier? Thinking about modeling girl's clothes, or thinking about your kids' faces as they stare into their dad's casket? Oh, and one more thing you hadn't considered. When you left a suicide note, you invalidated your insurance." She watched as my jaw dropped open; I hadn't considered that. "Your policy has a suicide clause. Your family would have lost you, and gotten nothing out of it but grief and misery."

I flinched. Her comment was dirty pool, and she knew it. Slowly, I began to realize that I'd been so wrapped up in my own problems that I hadn't given serious consideration to how it would affect Elise and the kids. I looked back up at Anya, fighting tears. "Okay, when you put it that way, it doesn't seem so bad."

The ride with Greg to the studio was deathly silent. He knew that I'd been changed. He was polite enough not to say anything, and I sure as hell didn't want to talk about it. I just sat there in my skirt and polo shirt and sandals, letting the wind blow through my hair as I stared blankly ahead. Yes, even my clothing had changed, from a pair of Dockers, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes into a very female outfit. The white skirt was sexier than I would have liked; it ended about two and a half inches above my knee, exposing a _lot_ of my curvy legs. I wouldn't have minded the polo shirt so much except that it was a snug fit, with the result that it emphasized the curves of my breasts. The open toes of the sandals displayed my painted toenails. I shuddered again at the thought of just how feminine I looked. At least I wasn't wearing any of the makeup that was in my purse.

Oh, yeah. Purse. As in a woman's handbag. Another little gift of the change. Packed with makeup and other woman's things - including, to my horror, a couple of tampons. This nightmare just seemed to go on and on.

My first impression of Greg had been correct; he was a college student working for a few extra bucks. That made me feel nervous; what kind of photography studio was I going to? If it even was a studio? Maybe he and his partner were just working out of seedy warehouse space somewhere in the shadier side of town. The more I thought, the more nervous I got. I had all of thirty minutes experience being a woman, and here I was out on my own, unescorted, with a guy I barely knew, going to a job I had never contemplated at a location I didn't know.

It was to my profound relief that we turned into a large strip mall and parked opposite a bona fide photographer's studio. I even recognized the place; we'd had the kids portraits done here a couple of years ago. As we walked in, me still quite nervous, Greg called out, "Randy, we might be in business after all!"

I assumed it was Randy that came out of the back. He was dressed like Greg - casual college student - and he looked, if anything, a year or two younger than Greg. He stopped abruptly when he saw me. I could feel his eyes critically scanning up and down my body. "Hmm," he mumbled. "Maybe ...." He turned to me. "You have any experience in modeling?"

I shook my head. "No." The word was soft, tiny.

Randy rolled his eyes and sighed. He glared at Greg. "We need a model, not an amateur," he snapped.

Greg held up his hands defensively. "Anya said she'd do okay."

Anya's name had an electric effect on Randy. He froze, his mouth half-open in protest. Slowly, he turned back to me. This time, I felt naked under his scrutiny. He reached out and lifted my chin; instinctively, I pulled away. "Well," he finally muttered, "she's got potential." He turned, finally acknowledging me. "Go in back and get changed. The outfits are numbered on the hangers. Start with number one." He strode purposefully to the back of the shop.

Greg glanced at me and shrugged. "He always gets like this when he's shooting," he explained. "You should have seen him the day we shot over at the park." He led and I followed him to the back of the shop, and he pointed to the dressing room. "Go and get changed. We've got a lot of work to do."

I heard some female voices around the corner, and I guessed that other models were busy posing. Not knowing what else to do, I nodded and opened the door, determined to get this over with.

I came back out like a frightened rabbit. Greg saw me, and he got concerned. "What's wrong?" he asked quickly.

My eyes were wide as saucers. "There's a ... girl ... in there!" I stammered. "A naked girl."

Greg frowned. "What did you expect? Dancing bears?"

"But ...." I started to protest. This was getting weirder with each passing moment. "She's ... naked!"

Greg took my arm gently. "Look, I don't know if you realize it or not, but right now, you're a girl, too." He shrugged his shoulders, and I realized that not only did he know the secret of Bikini Beach, but he'd probably been changed a few times himself. "So there's really nothing strange about seeing another girl naked. I know it's weird the first time or two, but you get used to it."

The door opened, and the girl walked out. My jaw dropped further; she was wearing only underwear! Greg, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice. "I think Randy's ready for you, Renee," he said nonchalantly. She nodded and walked casually toward the other room, where, presumably, Randy and the cameras were.

"But ... she's in her underwear!" I protested anew.

Greg's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "I thought ... Anya told you!"

Now I felt really scared. "Told me what?"

Greg gulped. "This is a lingerie shoot," he finally said, sounding a bit embarrassed. "We're shooting models in lingerie."

I sank against the wall, totally stunned. "Anya didn't tell me," I finally snapped, trying to stand tall and firm. "And neither did you!" I was just about to turn and walk out when I got a brief mental image of my wife and kids looking over a coffin. I know it was Anya's doing, and it sent a shiver up my spine. I sank back against the wall and swallowed hard; this was going to be totally embarrassing - no, make that humiliating - but I really didn't have any other choice. After taking a few deep breaths, I opened my eyes and glanced up at Greg. I could see sympathy in his eyes, as if he knew the depth of my plight. But he couldn't. Not unless he like Anya .... "Okay, I guess I'll do it," I mumbled. "It's not like I have a lot of other choices."

Greg went back to his job, which as near as I could tell, was gopher for Randy. I went into the dressing room and picked an empty chair. Slowly, feeling both nervous and embarrassed, I stripped naked, then I took the first outfit down. I blushed. I'd have given anything to see Elise in an outfit like this; it was a red lacy demi-bra with matching panties. I felt weird as I pulled the panties on; on the one hand, I was putting on ladies' underwear. On the other hand, the panties felt nice. Soft, smooth, silky. Almost erotic. I felt a chill run down my spine - again. Next, I picked up the bra. If I hadn't seen Elise put on a bra for the years of our marriage, I would have been confused. As it was, I slipped it on, using the same technique Elise used. And to my total surprise, I got it on as if I'd been doing it for years!

Just as I was adjusting one of the straps, the door opened and one of the other models came in. She smiled at me, and I blushed. I was a guy. Usually, anyway. But she didn't know; she thought I was just another girl. Without giving me a second thought, she stripped off her bra.

Her boobs were smaller than mine, and not as perky. I recoiled at the thought; here I was, in a dressing room with a disrobing girl, and all I could think of was that I had better boobs? Did this mean the magic had made me weird? I felt a surge of panic; was I going to be attracted to guys? How much had I been changed?

Greg called through the closed door, and I swallowed hard. Do or die time. Time to parade out for the photos. I felt my hands shaking as I opened the door. I tried to smile confidently; it was difficult. In only underwear, the breeze from the air conditioner was chilly. I glanced down, and in horror, I saw my nipples standing erect, as if to poke through the suddenly inadequate bra. I shook like a leaf as I followed Greg to the other room.

Randy glanced at me, then I saw him shake his head at Greg. I'd forgotten to put on any makeup and comb my hair. Sighing, Greg sat me down at a small vanity strategically located for last-minute touchups for the models. "This will only take a second," he said soothingly. I know he could see me shaking.

"You've done this before," I said with certainty as he expertly applied a touch of blush and some light eye shadow.

Greg smiled. "Once or twice." He picked up a tube of lipstick pursed his lips. "Like that." When I mimicked him, he applied the color quickly. "Actually, it's more like dozens of times."

I felt myself frowning. "So are you ... like Anya ...?"

Greg laughed softly. "No, she's the one with the magic. I'm just a normal, everyday guy." He leaned back, then he picked up a brush. A few quick tugs and my hair met his satisfaction. "Okay, that should do it. Now just relax."

Randy manipulated my pose quite professionally; even though he made it clear that his only interest was in getting good pictures, I felt helpless and vulnerable, standing as I was in only underwear and in a shapely feminine body. His every touch was a cause for alarm; my skin seemed so much more alive, more sensitive, more _sensual_. Though it was a sensory experience, I felt that this body was betraying me simply because I was noticing these things. My mind was racing as I struggled with the internal conflict and mixed signals. Was I enjoying being a woman? Could it be that I liked the pleasant tingling of arousal as the satiny fabric of the very feminine bra caressed my sensitive and erect nipples? Or was I hyper-sensitive because I was so out of place, that the sensations were making me feel paranoid?

After a few shots, Greg peeked over Randy's shoulder. He whistled appreciatively as he looked at me posing. I felt a shudder of embarrassment, a pang of self-consciousness at my situation. "She's a natural," Randy said softly to Greg, but not so softly that I didn't hear it. My already-crimson complexion turned even redder.

I think my mind kind of shut down for self-protection. I don't really remember a lot about the rest of the photo session. The best I can remember, it was an endless stream of makeup and lingerie; changing from one set to another, pose after pose. Some pictures were solo, some were with the other girls. I wore lingerie that I never knew existed. Bras, panties. Demi bras. Teddies. One-piece shapers. Corsets. Bra, panty, and garter combinations. And the endless barrage of flashes.

It was almost eight when we finished and I got back in my regular clothes. Greg gave me a ride back to the park, to my car. Slowly, the fog was lifting from my brain; as I climbed from Greg's car, I wondered if it had really happened - had I just spent the better part of the day as a lingerie model? It seemed so unreal, like a dream. Still dazed, I started across the parking lot toward my car.

"Felicity!" I heard the call from behind me, but it had no meaning to me. "Felicity!" Again the call.

It was annoying. I turned, just to see who was calling to whom.
To my surprise, it was Anya calling - to me! She was walking briskly out of the park, and she was trying to get my attention!

"Well, how did it go?" she asked as she neared me.

I know I still looked a bit dazed. "Okay ... I think."

Greg had caught up to me as well. I'd been in too much a stupor to realize it. "Yeah, the first time can be kind of disorienting."

Anya smiled. "I understand you did quite well." She gave Greg a quick wink. I know I had a confused expression. "Greg called while you were dressing," Anya explained. "Randy thinks you're a natural."

I didn't know whether to blush or scream. "Uh, thanks. I guess."

Greg held out an envelope. "You almost got away without this," he explained. I opened the envelope and pulled out the check. I glanced up, then back down. "We assumed you're freelance, which means you have to take care of the reporting and deductions," he continued.

I glanced back up. "I can't cash this!" I finally stammered. I held the check out to Anya.

Anya glanced at it, then she dropped her head, shaking it in disbelief. She finally held up the check to Greg. "You made it out to Felicity Lewis," she scolded.

Greg started to say something, then he realized what he'd done. He nodded sheepishly. "Sorry," he mumbled. He trotted back to his car, returning in a few seconds with a new check. He gave it to me, and I saw it was to F. Lewis. "That should work, shouldn't it?"

Despite my confusion, and anger at being truly identified as Felicity, I smiled. "Yeah." Then a sudden thought intruded on my moment of peace. I turned to Anya, feeling panic-stricken. "Oh, my God!" I nearly screamed. "The note! Emily ..."

It took a second, but Anya realized what I was talking about. "Oh, damn!" she swore.

I turned. "I've got to get home."

Anya grabbed my arm. "You can't," she said firmly, and as I struggled to get free of her firm grasp, I realized why. I wasn't Fred.

I felt the panic surge through my veins. Elise normally waited until after she and the kids had dinner to check her e-mail, but it was well past that point. "She's got to have read her e-mail by now! She's probably called the police already!" I felt tears starting to leak from my eyes, tears of helplessness and shame for what I'd done. "What are we going to do?"

Anya sighed heavily. I guessed that she felt guilty for not having seen the entire thing through. Her eyes closed for a few seconds, and she seemed lost in concentration. Finally, after what seemed hours, she opened her eyes. She grasped my arm, quite firmly. "Hang on."

The world exploded in a shower of light, and I flinched involuntarily. I felt as if I were swirling through a gigantic whirlpool, torn between a tug on my arm and the forces around me. I dared not open my eyes; the experience was frightening enough without some Twilight Zone effects as well. I felt another force and heard a soft pop, and there was suddenly firmness under my feet. I pried my eyes open slowly.

Anya stood beside me in the den of my house. Elise was sitting frozen at her computer, staring open-mouthed at the monitor. Her face was ashen, and her cheeks were tear-stained. Who knows how long she'd been staring, reading and rereading my suicide note, shocked so deep that she was frozen in disbelief.

When she heard us, she turned, her mouth dropping even further open as she saw us appear. "Who ...?" she finally started to stammer. It was easy to read the confusion in her voice. "Who are you? How ...?" She looked faint; I guess I could understand that - if two strangers had magically appeared behind me, I would have freaked out, too.

Anya placed her hand gently on Elise's shoulder. "It's okay, Elise," she said soothingly. "It's okay."

Elise didn't look soothed. "Who are you? What...what are you doing here?" She glanced at me, and I felt myself redden. "How ... did you get here?"

Anya smiled her warmest smile. "Magic, Elise." She glanced over Elise's shoulder, and her face darkened.

I felt the same chill. I could read the computer screen, the damning words I'd penned only hours ago, the words that told her that she was now a widow. Guilt at what I'd been trying to do smashed at my senses, leaving me reeling.

Anya was good, that much was certain. "Elise, we came here to tell you - and show you - that Fred didn't take his life," she said calmly. "I ... managed to convince him not to."

"Who are you?" Her voice was rising; I could tell that Elise was moving from being stunned by our appearance to wariness and alarm.

Anya glanced at me. I felt fear; how could I tell Elise that I was her husband? "Friends," she said.

**********

"Magic," Elise mouthed again, staring all the while at me. I blushed yet again. And yet, I knew that she was almost convinced. I knew everything - how we met, where I proposed, even the little hourglass shaped birthmark on the inside of her left thigh. But still she harbored doubts. Elise was very intelligent, and, this time, that was working against Anya and me. Despite the evidence piled before her - our appearance, a little demonstration by Anya, and the fact that I knew things only Fred would know - she was having trouble accepting the existence of magic.

"Magic," I answered softly. Even as I uttered the word, Elise's grandfather clock began to chime softly. Twelve chimes. Midnight. I glanced at Anya, who nodded to me. It was time for the ultimate proof.

I felt my body starting to shift. Unlike the change in the shower, I was acutely aware of the changes. I could feel my bones changing, the muscles stretching and growing around them, the tingling in my scalp as the long strawberry blonde hair retracted, leaving me with my dark brown masculine haircut. I glanced to see the fingernails drawing back in even as the enamel faded. All the while my body was changing, my clothing was changing as well, the fabric flowing like liquid as it reformed itself into the clothes in which I'd started the day. In seconds, it was over. Fred was sitting on the couch next to his wife.

"Convinced now?" Anya asked slyly.

"Oh, my God!" Elise cried over and over as she stared. Then, with tears falling from her eyes, she threw herself around me, holding me more tightly than ever, her body shaking as she cried on my shoulder. I heard a slight pop, and I knew Anya was gone again. Elise still clung to me, bawling her eyes out.

When she let go, my eyes were stinging. I felt ashamed of what I'd nearly done to Elise. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.

Elise took my cheeks between her palms. "Fred Lewis," she said, her voice quavering between scolding and fear, "don't you ever, ever do that to me again!" Her tears began to flow anew. "I promised to stick by you for better or worse. We'll get through this. Together." She stared deeply into my eyes. "Together. Okay?"

I was slowly realizing just how badly I'd scared her with the note. It shook me. "Okay."

Elise wasn't about to let me off that easily. "Promise me you'll never do anything like that again." I muttered an okay, but she wasn't satisfied. "Promise!" she demanded.

My eyelids dropped to mask the fluid welling from my tear ducts. "I promise," I answered.

She hugged me again, and then she pulled back. She stared at my chest. For a second, I felt panicked - had something gone wrong with the magic? Was I still part girl? But Elise pulled an envelope from my pocket. "What's this?" she asked.

I reddened and looked down. "After I changed, Anya's boyfriend came by the park. He was going to tell Anya that they'd lost a deal on photographing ads for a catalog because a model was sick. When he saw me," I was really blushing now, "he asked if I'd take her place."

Elise's eyes widened. "You spent the afternoon ... modeling?"

I nodded. "That's my paycheck."

"But ... you were a girl!" Elise protested. Then slowly she added up the facts. "So you were modeling girl's clothes?"

I looked away even as I flushed a brighter shade of crimson. "Lingerie," I mumbled, embarrassed like I'd never been in my life.

**************

The money helped stave off a couple of creditors, but within a week, we were back to square one. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I couldn't go through with my last plan. Somehow, Anya had said, things would work out.

It was Sunday afternoon. We were sitting on the patio, enjoying one of the rare days when neither of us were working, when I got the call. Anya wanted to see me at the office. And Elise, too.

When we got there, Anya and Greg were waiting. I glanced nervously at Greg; how could I face him, knowing that the last time I'd seen him I was a woman?

"Sit down, please," Anya invited. "Coke? Sprite?" I took a Coke; Elise had just water. After she'd served the drinks, Anya sat down. "You're probably wondering why I've summoned you here?" she asked.

Greg snickered, and she elbowed him. "Well, it's funny! You make it sound like a mystery novel or something!"

Anya rolled her eyes. "Greg, show them the proofs."

Greg opened a notebook and started flipping through a lot of photographs. Elise looked at one or two, then she stared at me. Hard. I blushed and turned away. I was humiliated beyond belief by having done the pictures in the first place; now Greg and Anya were displaying them - to my wife! I sat and stared into a remote corner of the office while the three of them flipped through the pages. Finally, I couldn't hear any more turning pages. I turned my head back, only to see Elise staring at me. Her eyes were wide and soft, and she had an almost awe-struck expression. "What?" I asked sharply.

Elise shook her head the tiniest bit. "You ... you're good," she said admiringly. I felt my jaw drop, then I snapped it shut angrily. "No, really!" she said. "These are really good."

I glanced at Anya, and she nodded. So did Greg. "The CEO thinks so, too," Greg said. "The phrase he used was 'wholesome beauty'. He liked it. As a matter of fact, he asked - no, he demanded - that we get you in some of the pictures for the spring lineup and the swimsuit line."

My jaw dropped open again. This sounded crazy, impossible. I was being offered a job ... but modeling women's clothes!

Greg read my confused thoughts. "The job pays five thousand," he added.

I glanced at Elise, and saw her mixed emotions. On the one hand, it was a job, and the money would go a long way. And she was proud of me for the job I'd already done. On the other hand, it meant I had to turn into a girl again.

"No," I answered softly but firmly. "I ... can't. Not again."

Elise took my arm. "But it's a job, honey," she pleaded. Her voice betrayed her inner conflict.

Elise's pleading and the logic of a job were weakening my resolve. It _was_ a good opportunity. A thought occurred to me. "Where, and how long?"

Greg looked down, and I instinctively knew it was bad news. "Next week. All week." He sounded sheepish, as if he knew I wasn't going to like the rest of the news. "And it's in Atlanta, at the company headquarters."

I let my eyes close as I exhaled slowly. I found my head shaking. "No," I mumbled. "Not for a week."

"Fred." Elise waited until I looked at her. "We need the money."

I closed my eyes again and nodded. "I know. But ...."

"But nothing. We need the money. And it's a job."

I knew Elise was right. I knew I was trapped and had to take the job. Desperation does that to a man. I glanced at Anya. "So how will this work?"

Anya bit her lower lip. More bad news. "You'll have to have a pass for as long as your trip."

"I'll stay a girl the whole time?"

Anya nodded. I let my head fall into my hand, the heavy weight of my thoughts propped up by my elbow and the arm of the chair. I felt the weight of the world on me - Elise was right; we really needed the money. But a girl? For a week? I hadn't enjoyed the time I'd been changed before, and this was going to be much worse. But we _did_ need the money .... Finally, I lifted my head. All three were staring at me. "Okay," I finally gave in.

**********

The flight was awful; the guy next to me tried to hit on me the entire trip. I ignored him, and he tried. I was rude, and he tried again. He was getting a bit tipsy, and he tried even harder. I felt very self-conscious - how do women handle boors like that guy? Fortunately, we landed, and I escaped his unwelcome advances.

I felt the cabbie leering at me through his rear-view mirror. The porters were helpful - too helpful. More lustful gazes. With a great sigh of relief, I shut the door behind me, safe within my room. At least for a while.

I'd never been intimidated by big cities before. There was always something to see and do. But now? I huddled the rest of the day in my room, afraid to show my face. I wondered how women faced these things on a day-to-day basis. Then I realized that they'd grown up with it, and they had learned how to deal with these kinds of situations - or to ignore them. But me? I was a guy in a girl's body, and I realized, to my surprise and horror, that I knew nothing about how girls act and react to the world around them. I was a babe in the woods, so to speak, the ultimately naíve little girl in the jungle of the big city.

About eight, my hunger was past ignoring. I feared going out to the hotel restaurant, but after scrimping for so long, room service seemed a horrible extravagance. I went carefully down to the restaurant, paranoid and watching around me. I felt like I was being examined, lusted after, by every guy in the place, and that even after I made sure to wear the least revealing, least flattering dress Elise had packed for me.

Dear Elise. She'd known what I'd be up against. And bless her heart, she'd prepared. There wasn't an outfit in my suitcase that wasn't concealing or plain. Granted, I had a bigger bust than she did, which made some of her outfits tend to display my, uh, curves a little more than I would have liked. Still, she did a good job. I escaped the restaurant and returned to my room unmolested. But it was still very unnerving!

I woke early and showered, then spent a considerable amount of time drying my hair. I'd tried to control the process instead of letting the instincts take over, and as a result of over-aggressive toweling on my head, I'd gotten my hair totally tangled and snarled. I wanted to scream or cry from frustration by the time I got the tangles out. By the time I got dressed and got some makeup on, I realized that it was too late to get breakfast at the restaurant. Now, not only was I alone, female, and frustrated, but I was also late and hungry!

Fortunately, I'd done a little recon the night before, and I knew the hotel had a coffee shop. But when it got there, it had a line of waiting customers - probably like me, they'd run behind and were trying to grab a bite. I sighed and glanced at my watch - I was really going to be late if I didn't high-tail it now. My stomach answered this thought by rumbling. To make matters worse, a young businessman noticed me glancing anxiously at my watch. He gallantly said I could go ahead of him if I was in a hurry.

I smiled as I said thanks, not sure if my features were going to appear as just plain thankful, or send some kind of sensuous signal to the guy. Inwardly, I hated myself for having gotten into this mess. If only. If only a million other things had gone differently .... I sighed to myself as I paid for my bagel and coffee. I was stuck with this as a job - at least temporarily - and that meant I was stuck spending some time as a woman.

I'm sure the cabbie was leering at me as he drove me to the studio. I didn't have time to notice; I was busy eating my bagel and cream cheese and drinking my coffee.

The coffee did it. Some caffeine in my system helped calm my jangled nerves. At the same time, it felt ... different. Almost exhilarating! I felt very energized, like I could walk through the photo shoot in minutes. I walked into the studio with a definite spring in my step.

As I entered, I glanced around and saw the old grandfatherly gentleman sitting patiently in a chair. The receptionist took my name and even as she started to check her list, the man stood and strode to my side.

"Miss Lewis?" he asked in his warm friendly voice.

I turned from the receptionist. "Yes," I answered cautiously. I didn't know this old man, and I was uneasy to the point of being paranoid.

He smiled warmly. "I'm Mr. Randall, the CEO of ...." He didn't finish; I'm sure he thought I was going to faint or something.

My eyes bulged when I realized that I was talking to a multi-billionaire. _The_ Mr. Randall - Warren P. Randall the Third, the man whose name was synonymous with lingerie and fine women's clothing, had been waiting for me.

"I'm ... Felicity. Felicity Lewis," I stammered. I didn't really know how to greet a CEO.

"Yes," he smiled warmly, "I know." He took my arm gently and led me toward the back of the studio. "Some of my staff are here, and I'd like you to meet them before you get started."

I didn't know Warren P. Randall from his face, but his name .... Two companies ago, I'd worked on an intranet project for his corporation. The corporation, while not the largest lingerie maker in the country, was the largest privately held company which specialized in that line, and other women's garments and accessories. The Randall family had started and successfully built the company from a small corset shop in New Brunswick, New Jersey, into the huge corporation it now is. One thing I'd definitely noticed on the earlier job - unlike some competitors, they didn't go for unrealistically proportioned models in sexy poses. The company had a wholesome image that seemed somehow out of place.

In retrospect, I should have felt nervous about being led around by a rich old man. At the time, however, I had no experience, and being in awe of a billionaire who took time to meet a lingerie model, thoughts of trouble just didn't occur to me.

'Some of his staff' was an understatement. There was Emma, the vice president of research and development, Arthur from marketing, his sister Bea from advertising, and several assistants and deputy assistants. If a bomb had exploded at that moment, I think the company would have lost its top three tiers of management.

"Now, Bea, don't you agree that she's perfect?" Mr. Randall gushed proudly after introducing us.

Bea, I guessed, was about fifty-five. Shorter than me, she was stocky. Not fat, but solidly built. She wore her graying hair in a tight bun, and her face was worn with experience. Her lips were pursed tightly all the time, and with her old-fashioned glasses, she looked a bit like a librarian. I felt like I was being examined under a microscope as she gazed up and down my body. "Yes," she finally said, and her voice had a soft quality that belied her somewhat harsh appearance, "I think she'll do nicely." She pulled the glasses from her nose, dangling them on a chain around her neck. "Assuming," she continued in a stern tone that matched the piercing glare she was giving me, "that you meet the standards of our little company."

I withered under her gaze. "Uh, I'm not sure I follow," I said cautiously.

She frowned as she continued to stare at me. I honestly didn't know what she was talking about, and she didn't seem willing to give me any hints.

Mr. Randall came to my rescue. "What my sister is saying," he said in a fatherly tone, "is that we work very hard to protect the image of our company." His gentle face took on a slightly more stern appearance. "We did a little background check on you," he continued.

My eyes widened, and I felt panic rising in my throat. If they'd done some background checks, then ....

"And, much to our delight, we found nothing that could prove ... embarrassing ... to the company."

Bea's face softened - a little bit. "We don't like to discover that our models have seedy backgrounds," she said. "Alcohol abuse, exotic dancing," she said the words as if they were distasteful, and I knew that, to her, they were, "you know, that sort of thing."

"Oh." I felt a ton of weight lift from my shoulders. "Uh, no, I've never done any of that."

"And we like it even less when our models move on into those sorts of ... disreputable professions." She half-smiled, and instead of feeling relief, I suddenly felt nervous. "Warren, I'll handle it from here. Why don't you go back to your office and try to be useful?" There was an air of familiarity about her comment, as if it were an inside joke. But it was also clearly a command; she was in charge from here on out, even if Mr. Randall was the CEO.

We went back into the dressing room of the studio. Bea shooed out a pair of ladies, company employees I surmised, and she sat me down on a sofa. "Do you sleep around?" she asked bluntly.

I know the shock showed on my face. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do you sleep around?" she repeated.

I shook my head. "No," I managed to croak. "But you had to have seen the report," I managed to add. I felt terribly uncomfortable with Bea's questions.

"Are you a virgin?"

"Uh, yes," I whispered while I dropped my head, blushing. Just after I'd changed for the trip, Anya had mysteriously hinted that my body - my female body - was still virginal; at the time, it seemed odd. Now I understood why.

Bea watched me squirm, then she laughed. "You know, it's always interesting to see how a girl reacts to that question. And I know it's terribly personal, too." She smiled. "But you see, we have to make sure our models fit the image of the company." She sat back. "I knew from the first glance that Warren's judgement was right." She read my puzzled expression. "Your outfit. Very conservative. Very lady-like." She nodded approvingly. "You'd be surprised how many models show up looking like ladies of the evening, and then expect to model our lines of clothing."

I nodded dumbly. I guessed that I'd passed her inspection.

"Stand up."

Without hesitation or question, I stood.

"Take off your clothes, please." I stared at her, my mouth slowly dropping open, not sure I understood the order. She looked directly at me. "Take off your clothes." Slowly, uneasily, I obeyed, slipping off my skirt first and then unbuttoning my blouse. I stepped out of my shoes and skirt as my blouse slid off my arms, leaving me standing in my panty hose, panties, and bra.

From her pocket, Bea produced a tape measure. Quickly, expertly, she took my measurements, jotting them down as she did so. I heard her humming and muttering to herself as she worked. But I didn't have the courage to question her.

"Okay, now the bra."

I slipped off my bra, relying on the programmed instincts since my own brain was numbed by what was happening. She stepped back, examining me carefully, then she turned me to the side. Arms up, arms out, arms down. Side, front, bent forward. All kinds of poses. Finally, she let me straighten up. Bea smiled at me. " I started the business in a fitting room. I could tell, without the tape, that you're a 34C." She beamed. "And of course, I was right!" She sat back down, indicating that I should put my bra back on. "You know, you really should get a professional fitting. That bra just doesn't do your figure any justice!"

I clasped the bra behind my back. "So I take it you approve?" I asked meekly.

Bea laughed heartily. "Honey," she roared, "I've seen a lot of models in my day. And you're one of the best I've ever seen!" She was beaming. "Warren was right. You have a natural modesty and innocence about you that you can't hide. It's the perfect image for our line." She grinned. "If I do say so, you've got about the most perfect breasts. And, honey, I've seen a lot of them in my day!"

I felt a shudder of relief course through me; I was terrified that I wasn't going to get the job, that Bea might disapprove, or that there was something in this mysterious background check, or another dozen unspoken fears. Or worse, that she might discover that I wasn't really Felicity; that I was Fred, a guy who had been magically changed into Felicity.

"Go ahead and get dressed," Bea suggested as she sat down. "My staff has some work to do with the photographer before you'll get started, so we might as well relax."

Slowly, very conscientiously, I began to pull on my clothes. Bea suddenly rose and strode out the door, leaving me shaking. Why had she left? Did I give something away? She returned, though, before I got my blouse buttoned, carrying a tray with a silver tea set, which she set on the vanity. "I thought you could use a cup of tea," she volunteered when she saw my expression. While I finished buttoning, she poured two cups.

I gratefully took a cup from her. My nerves were jangled. Doing a photo shoot for a small-time advertising circular was one thing; performing in front of the heads of a major corporation was another. One slip-up and I was done. Then I started; where had that thought come from? I was Fred, an unemployed computer engineer, not Felicity, an inexperienced newcomer to the modeling scene.

"You seem a little nervous," Bea said, making small talk.

"Oh, I've done ..." I dropped my eyes. I'd wanted to boast that I was experienced. But I couldn't. Something about Bea wouldn't let me. Like Aunt Bee of Mayberry, I felt like I was obligated to honesty. "I only did the one shoot a couple of weeks ago," I admitted sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess I am nervous."

Bea laughed. "You'll do fine," she assured me. "You know," her voice went soft, almost conspiratorial, "sometimes, models are at their best when they're nervous. It tends to bring out a wholesome innocence. We like that."

I tried to smile. "I hope so. I hope I don't disappoint you." I took another sip of tea. "Mmm," I said, surprised. "This is good."

"It's herbal tea," she explained. "With a touch of honey. Much better for you than all that caffeine."

I nearly choked on the sip in my mouth. I suddenly understood my jitters. I'd had two cups of coffee since rising, my normal pace. But I was in a much smaller body, and undoubtedly, my tolerance for caffeine wasn't as high. Thus the jumpiness. "Um," I began to explain my surprise, "I think I had a bit too much coffee this morning. More than I should have, anyway. Maybe that's why I feel so nervous."

"Maybe," Bea laughed. "And maybe some of it is being a small-town girl in the big city. You know, any decent girl would feel a bit out of place on her first trip here."

**********

The first day went well, if you could call a demanding photographer and Bea's perfectionism and a grueling day going well. I was exhausted when we wrapped up the day's shoot at six. One of the photographer's assistants, who had been especially nice to me, asked if I wanted to join him for dinner; Bea seemed rather pleased when I turned him down. I was too tired, and far too uneasy. I just went back to the hotel, called room service for a light meal, and then soaked in the tub. If anyone ever says that modeling is easy work, I defy them to do a full day of changing, redoing makeup, and having to hold unnatural poses for agonizingly long times. Even with Bea Randall and her assistants helping, I was exhausted by the end of each day.

The second and third days were more of the same. We were doing all kinds of lingerie, and to my gratitude, most of the shots were my torso only, which meant my face wasn't showing. Even though it was really kind of a 'borrowed' face thanks to Anya's magic, it still didn't seem right to be showing it in pictures where the rest of my body was clad only in underwear.

But that doesn't mean I wasn't nervous. Even after three days, I still was terrified. What if I gave away my little secret? Was I doing things the way a true woman would? Was I being _too_ nervous? Having my nerves jangled for days on end took its toll on me, both physically and emotionally. If it hadn't been for Bea, I don't think I could have gotten through the ordeal. She was like an aunt during the entire shoot. It helped a lot.

We wrapped up shooting early on Friday morning, so the company invited me and the photographer's staff to headquarters. Bea had set up a little party, as much to thank us as to celebrate getting a first-class photo shoot done, and ahead of schedule to boot. I wasn't scheduled to leave until early Saturday afternoon. Anya and I hadn't wanted to take any chances, and if we'd been running late, it would have been less risky to have the pass go through Saturday.

I wanted desperately to get home, there weren't any openings on earlier flights. Besides, even if I did get home, I was stuck as a girl until Saturday evening, and I couldn't very well hang around the house all day. The kids didn't know my little secret, and they would wonder, and probably talk about mom's friend.

So I went to the party.

It started quite nicely. The wholesome image the company projected to the public was maintained inside the corporate walls as well. The management of the advertising department had meat and cheese plates, rolls, vegetables, and such catered. Punch was provided, but it was strictly non-alcoholic. Everyone was very polite, almost formally so. The photographers and I were treated almost like royalty.

Maybe I'd gotten too comfortable. Maybe Bea had helped lull me into a false sense of security. Maybe I just pushed my luck. In any event, what happened next was purely my own fault.

As it got later in the afternoon, I decided to go back to the hotel. When I indicated that I was leaving, Ray, one of the assistant photographers - the same one who had been so nice the other day - volunteered to give me a ride. I considered it for a moment, then I decided I didn't really want to trouble Bea and her staff to call me a cab.

Ray was nice - to a point. When I got back to the hotel, he asked if he could buy me dinner.

Any woman worth her salt would have known what he was up to. I, being new to the game, didn't. We had dinner in the hotel restaurant, and Ray ordered a bottle of wine. Now, I know that all the warning signs were there. At the time, however, I really wasn't paying attention. As I said, I think I got lulled.

The next thing I knew, we were up in my room, and Ray was groping at the buttons on my blouse. I was very drunk, and though I was trying to fight him off, I wasn't being very successful. Besides, with the alcohol in my system, I was starting to get a little bit curious about the warm feeling inside.

I tried to stop him. I really wanted him to leave me alone. But I was a tiny weak woman, and drunk at that, and I couldn't make him.

I awoke Saturday morning feeling the hangover from the wine, and almost immediately, I knew that my nightmare wasn't just a nightmare; it was all too real. I could feel it - inside me, I could tell. I hurt, and there was a small bloodstain on the sheet. I tasted the bile rising in my throat as I realized what I'd done; I ran to the bathroom fearing that I was going to throw up.

My emotions, so tangled by the week's events and the faint memory of last night, were a jumble of mixed feelings. Anger at what had happened. Guilt that I'd let it. Sadness that I'd lost something. Hatred of Ray for taking advantage of me. Hatred of myself for letting myself get into the position where I'd been changed. Frustration that I hadn't heeded all the warnings. And many, many more. Into this jumble, logical, rational Fred stepped to assert control.

First things first - I had to get cleaned up and get ready to fly home. I was an emotionless robot through my now-familiar morning ritual of showering and getting ready. Next was the packing. It should have been simple, but everything I picked up to pack reminded me that I was a woman, and as a woman, I'd been taken advantage of. I cried my way through the morning.

Breakfast was a self-imposed ordeal; I felt like every eye was on me, knowing my secret and my shame, and was judging me for my stupidity and recklessness. Tears streamed down my cheeks as the elevator doors closed and I began the ascent to my room.

The worst was yet to come. Bea was waiting in my room. She'd come by to give me my paycheck and to ask if I'd be interested in modeling more of their clothing lines, most specifically, the new swimsuits. She knew, just from looking at me, that something was really bothering me.

I ended up spilling my guts about what I'd done the night before. As I talked, crying the whole time, she watched me, non-critically, and when I finished explaining what had happened, she held me and let me cry on her shoulder.

I was deathly afraid that she'd be disappointed in me and I'd lose my job. But it turned out that she knew exactly what I'd been through; Bea confessed that long ago, she'd been treated the same as I had. The important thing, she told me, was what I decided to do from here. She'd seen many girls go through it; they seemed to either learn and never repeat their mistakes, or they decided their morals weren't realistic and became 'fast' women.

It was easy to reassure Bea that I didn't ever want to do that again. I was upset that it had happened once, and the thought of sex with a man made my stomach churn. It _wasn't_ going to happen again. Because I wasn't ever going to change and model again. It was that simple - I was never again going to be in the vulnerable position I'd been in.

Bea seemed to sense how determined and honest I was about the 'mistake', as she called it. She gave me a hug and assured me that it was our little secret, and that if I wanted to model for the company some more, she'd be pleased to have me. I got the feeling that Bea found me to be a kindred spirit of sorts.

I was more than rude on the flight home; I was downright bitchy. The guy beside me asked to be moved. When Elise picked me up at the airport, she knew something was wrong. I sat in silence on the trip home, her many questions about the week going unanswered. We both carried in my bags, and when Elise carried one to our room, I simply dropped the other bag and retreated to the family room.

I didn't hear Elise glide into the room; only when she sat beside me did I stir. And that was to turn even further away from her. My cheeks were very tear-stained. Damn this body and its hormones! I couldn't stop crying for anything.

"What happened?" Elise asked simply.

I shook my head. "Nothing," I mumbled between sobs.

Elise put her arm around me. "Did you ... you know?"

I collapsed against her, my entire body convulsing. "I tried ... I didn't want to ...." My words were barely coherent through my sobbing.

Elise just held me close. It was up to me to talk.

"It ... seemed ... so ... innocent," I finally sniffled. "I ... was ... so ... stupid!" I bawled some more.

"I'm sure you tried to stop him," Elise said soothingly. "But you're new at this, and you don't know how a girl is supposed to handle these kinds of situations."

"But...I was just a cheap slut!" I bawled. "I let myself ... get into the situation!" My face was buried in my hands. "It's all my fault," I cried over and over.

Elise stroked my hair gently. "The innocent girl goes to the big city," she cooed. "You were just too pure and innocent and trusting, and some slick guy took advantage of your innocence."

"But ... I was a virgin ... until it happened!" I sobbed. "I didn't want it to happen! I didn't want to have sex with a man! Not ever!"

"I'll help you learn. Next time, you'll be prepared. You won't fall for any of the tricks."

"There won't be a next time!" I sobbed. "I'm never going to change again!"

Her hands paused momentarily; she hadn't considered that my reaction would be so extreme. And yet, she could easily understand. I'd been hurt, been made to feel cheap, and I didn't want to put myself in that position again. She kept stroking my hair lovingly as I cried in her arms, until I fell asleep. Somehow, she got me to bed.

**********

"You've got a call." Elise called out to the patio, where I was grilling burgers. The kids were lounging around; it was a rare event for the family to be together and not fighting.

"Who is it?" I asked, irritated. I didn't want to burn the burgers.

"It's Anya," she called back.

"Shit!" I muttered under my breath. I checked the grill, then stalked inside. "The burgers should be done in a minute or so. Don't let them burn." Elise shrugged and went outside to tend the cooking. I picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Fred." There was no mistaking Anya's voice. She sounded rather cheerful. I hadn't told her about the unpleasantness on the last trip.

"What's up?" I asked cautiously. Somehow, I knew that if Anya was calling, it was because there was another gig.

She confirmed it. "You know the Ice House, the brewery? Well, they want to do a commercial, and they're looking for young ladies to ...."

"Not interested," I interrupted her.

Anya was taken aback; it took several seconds for her to recover. "But ... it's even better pay than the photo ads," she rebutted. "It'll be easy. Local shoot, one day."

"I'm not interested," I snapped. Then I hung up the phone. In a few minutes, it rang again, but I ignored it until the answering machine picked up the call.

I stomped back outside, my pleasant mood suddenly fouled. I took over at the grill just as Elise was starting to pull off the burgers. She eyed me, wondering what was up, as she moved aside. "What's up?" she asked tentatively.

I shook my head. "Nothing." I didn't even look at her to answer; she didn't need to see the distress in my eyes.

We finished eating, but without much conversation. I was very troubled by Anya's call. We still needed the money, and the job would have been helpful. It had been four weeks since the big shoot and the incident, and in that time, I'd turned down Anya and Greg twice. Each time, it got harder. Money was tight, and my job cut back on my overtime. Things were looking a little bit better, but my job prospects were still grim. In short, I needed the job. But my ego had been seriously wounded, and I just couldn't take any more changes.

Elise waited until we were cleaning up the dishes, working together in the kitchen like we usually did. "What did Anya want?"

I took the plate and started to dry it. "Nothing."

"She said it was a good opportunity. A couple of thousand for one day shooting a commercial."

I was surprised to find out that Anya had been talking to Elise. It
felt like she was going behind my back. I didn't look at her; I could
feel her pleading eyes drilling into my soul. "I ... can't."

She sighed; the sound added tons to my already heavy burden. "Fred," she said softly, "we need the money."

I knew she was right. There was absolutely no denying that funds were getting tight again. I tried not to look at her or even give an outward sign that I'd heard.

"The brakes on my car are squealing." Elise waited to see if I'd heard. "I had Dennis in the shop take a quick peek." She watched my shoulders stiffen. "Oh, don't worry. He didn't charge us for it. Anyway, the front brakes are in pretty bad shape. Dennis said it's dangerous to drive, especially when they get wet."

I set down the plate automatically, since my eyes were closed. My head shook slowly from side to side. I knew Elise was right. But whenever I thought about changing, I couldn't get the image out of my mind, the recurrent nightmare. I was stuck in that body, the young, sexy woman's body, and I was getting addicted to sex, sex with any man who had a penis. Every time I had the nightmare, I woke covered with sweat, and I had to check my body to ensure it wasn't real. I never told Elise, but somehow, I suspect that she knew.

"I talked to Anya today. She says you've turned down a number of jobs." She stopped washing, turning toward me. "Why?"

I clutched the counter-top so Elise wouldn't see my hands shaking. "I just can't," I answered, trying to hide the pain from Elise.

She rested her hand on my shoulder. "I know," she said softly. "We'll just figure out something else."

I shook my head, my eyes screwed tightly shut. "There isn't anything else," I finally said, my words so soft that she barely heard them.

"Are you sure?" She sounded worried, bless her heart.

I nodded slowly, trying to force the nightmare from my mind. "Yeah," I said, sounding completely unsure. "I guess I have to do it."

**********

"You checked with Bea Randall?" I asked Anya, incredulous. We stood beside the gift shop, surrounded by throngs of Bikini Beach patrons coming early to enjoy the park.

Anya nodded slowly. "I hope you don't think I was out of line. It's just that, well, that was a good contract, and I'd hate to see you do something that closed out future prospects."

I stood, dumbfounded by her thoughtfulness. It was almost like she was my agent and was protecting my future. "I guess you're right," I said, shaking my head slowly as my long tresses bobbed around my face. I swatted at the longer hair, annoyed as usual by the changes. I was out of place, since I was wearing my street clothes. It made me feel a bit less conspicuous than the small bikini of the first change, and when I changed, I needed every morale boost I could get.

Anya's grandmother walked up to us. There was something on her face that I didn't quite understand, but Anya took immediate note. The worry on Anya's features made me worry, too. "Can I talk to the two of you in my office?" she asked plainly. She turned and strode in the direction of the low gray office building, confident that we would follow.

I glanced at Anya to see if she knew what was going on. From her expression and demeanor, she didn't think it was serious. She merely shrugged.

The interior of the office building seemed dark, but that was only because it was so bright outside. When my eyes adjusted, I took a seat across the desk from Anya's grandmother. Anya sat down beside me.

"Anya," grandmother began slowly, "you've been using the park to change Mr. Lewis so he can earn some extra money modeling, right?"

Anya didn't flinch. "That's right," she said evenly. "In every case, he paid for a pass for the appropriate length of time."

Grandmother held up her hands defensively, laughing. "Whoa," she said. "I know he's paid." She was trying to make sure I didn't feel awkward, but she was only partially successful.

"So?" Anya asked cautiously. I could see her concentrating, as if she were trying to read grandmother's mind.

"And you've been helping arrange his, um, _her_, work, correct?"

Anya's eyes suddenly widened. "Oh, of course!"

"What?" I was confused.

"I've been using the park resources, namely the water, to help you with business, not recreation," Anya explained, "and using my own time to help you line up work."

"So?"

"So, normally, you'd pay an agent to find you work. And grandmother thinks that Bikini Beach should get a small percentage, since our business is involved in your, uh, work."

"A piece of the action, is that it?" I asked, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice and only partially succeeding.

"Ms. Lewis," grandmother said firmly, catching my attention. "Anya could have let you go through with your original plan, in which case, we wouldn't be having this conversation. She didn't, and I'm proud of her for that. But we run a business here, and you're taking advantage of my granddaughter."

I dropped my head, ashamed of the truth in what Anya's grandmother had said. When I looked back up, they were both looking at me. There was not the vaguest hint of judgment in their eyes, just ... something I couldn't put my finger on. Compassion was part of it, and understanding. "What do you think is fair?" I asked Anya.

Anya looked straight into my eyes. "Normally, an agent gets ten to fifteen percent," she said quickly. "I'd say that ten percent, split seventy-thirty between myself and the park is probably fair." She glanced at her grandmother, who nodded her head ever so slightly.

"I guess that's fair," I said. And suddenly, I understood. Anya was learning how to be a businesswoman. Her compassion to save me the first time was humanitarian, and grandmother expected no less. But the second time, and the third...that was beyond compassion. It was becoming business. And as such, Anya was expected to look out for the best interests of Bikini Beach and herself. "I'll get someone to draw up a contract," I added hastily.

Grandmother laughed, and I started. "Oh, no," she said through her mirth. "Don't bother. I have no time for those blood-sucking leeches." She glanced at Anya, who nodded agreement. "Unless _you_ need a contract, that is."

It was up to me. Did I trust them? "No, if my word is good enough for you, then your word is good enough for me."

Grandmother looked at Anya; once more, there was that strange expression, as if they were communicating mentally. Anya merely nodded, and then she rose and walked quickly from the office. When I turned back to grandmother, she was looking at me with a curious expression. "You had a rather ... bad experience." No judgment, no accusation. Just statement of fact.

I dropped my head, ashamed. "Yeah," I managed to mumble. I could feel my cheeks reddening with shame.

"But it wasn't your fault, was it?"

"Yes, it was."

"No, it wasn't." I looked up into her stern expression, and in her eyes, I saw understanding. Just like in Bea Randall's eyes. "It wasn't your fault. And you shouldn't feel guilty."

"But ...." I wanted to say something, anything, but there weren't any words to express the turmoil in my heart.

"But you hate changing, don't you?" Again, a statement of fact. I nodded, leaving my head hanging. "And yet, you continue to change, facing the horror of what happened before, having to live in a body you don't like. Why?"

I looked up sharply. "I don't have any choice, do I?"

Grandmother smiled. "You do it out of love. Love for Elise, and for your family." There was a warmth in her countenance that I didn't know possible. "That is why I let Anya work with you."

A thought hit me. "But if you knew, then you also know ... that I'm going to have to do more of this." She nodded, her expression grim. "A lot more?" Again, a nod. A darkness settled into my heart. I really didn't like being in this body. And yet, I had to, to keep my family together. And from grandmother's indications, I was going to be doing this for a while.

"That frightens you, doesn't it?" She smiled as if laughing at a private joke. "It frightens you that you might get to _like_ it." I nodded, and she laughed again. "Well," she added, "that part I can't help you with. It's all up to you whether you like your female alter ego or not."

**********

I got home early, feeling pretty good about the day. The commercial had been very successful; I wore a teeny bikini and showed off my body while I sang the praises of men who drank beer from the brewery.

Elise had worked all weekend, so she had the day off. It was nice to have her home, just in case. We had a quiet dinner; the kids were out. While we were watching a movie, Melissa came home. She eyed me suspiciously while Elise explained that I was a friend from work. I really didn't think she bought the story, but she did go to her room and get on the phone. I didn't understand it; she'd hung out with her friends at the mall all day, and now that she got home, all she wanted to do was call them to talk about what they'd done and plan the next day. Or something. I wasn't really sure I wanted to know.

It was about eleven that we heard the door opening and someone coming in. As the feet padded softly across the dim kitchen, Elise snapped on the light.

And she promptly screamed. I ran to the kitchen to see what was going on, and I felt like screaming, too. It wasn't Jeremy. The intruder was one of Melissa's friends. The girl, about eighteen, was about five-six, one-twenty-five, and quite generously curved. She had long wavy blonde hair and spectacular blue eyes on a face that stunningly gorgeous.

"Mom, it's me!" the girl complained as Elise threatened to call the cops. "Jeremy!"

I felt a chill run down my spine at the words. Elise halted her threats. "What kind of sick prank do you think you're pulling, young lady?"

"Mom, I'm Jeremy!" the girl complained again. "I did just like Dad did." The girl turned toward me. "Isn't that right, Dad?"

Elise turned white. I felt my heart race. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded in my soft feminine voice. I hadn't yet mastered sounding stern.

The young lady - Jeremy - turned to Elise. "Mom, can I talk to Dad about this? Please?"

Elise wasn't happy, but she went back to the family room. I pulled a couple of chairs from the table and sat down. Jeremy sat down across the table from me. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded again. "How ...?"

Jeremy grinned mischievously, and I knew beyond a doubt that it was my son. That grin couldn't be faked by anyone else. "I followed you this morning," he said. "I wondered what you did, and what you and mom were arguing about the other day."

My eyes narrowed. "Discussions between your mother and I are private," I scolded.

He shrugged. "Whatever." Then he smiled at me. "Anyway, I decided to follow you - to find out where you were getting the extra money."

"Our money problems ..." I began.

"... are none of my business," Jeremy finished mockingly. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I've heard it a million times." He scowled. "But they _are_ my business. They affect me - and Mel, too!"

"So what did you do?" I asked. I felt panic, fear that what happened to me might have happened to him.

Jeremy smiled. "I was just at the mall, hanging with the girls," he answered. "You'll never guess who Suzanne Hollings is sleeping with ..." he started, whispering as a seasoned gossip.

I cut him off. "Enough. Is that all?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "Why?" Then his eyes narrowed, and I could almost see his mind racing. He was going to figure it out, of that I was sure.

"Well, don't do it again."

"What if I want to?" Jeremy asked defiantly. "What if I like it?" He saw me blanch, and he realized that he'd said something wrong. "So why do you do it?" He pulled a picture from the clutch purse he was holding. As he unfolded it, I felt my knees go weak. "That's you, isn't it?" he demanded. It was one of the pictures of me from the Randall lingerie job, wearing a demi-bra and matching panties, and my face was clearly visible.

"That's different," I said hastily. "It's a job. We need the money."

Jeremy grinned. He'd won this round. "Yeah, right."

Something told me that Jeremy was going to get into trouble if he went back to Bikini Beach.

**********

Over the next three months, I did a gig about every other week. Most of them were small; the store Sunday advertising flyers, small catalogs, and a couple more commercials. The money wasn't great, but it kept us in the black, and we were even getting a bit set aside. A very tiny bit. Still, it felt like progress. And there were not yet any openings in information technology. I felt like I was trapped.

Over the weeks, Elise's attitude toward me changed. At first, I didn't notice. But eventually, I couldn't help seeing it. One night, after the kids were in bed, Elise and I were watching the television. It just happened that one of my commercials came on. Elise's entire demeanor changed abruptly, like a switch had been thrown. I watched her through the remaining seconds of the commercial, and then I confronted her.

It took a lot of prying, but eventually I got the truth. It was unbelievable, but Elise was getting jealous of me. Of my success as a woman model. Of my looks. She admitted to having mixed emotions; on the one hand, the extra money had saved our marriage. But on the other hand, I was a girl for the ads, and when that happened, I was better looking than she was. She was afraid that I was getting too successful as a woman, and that I might decide to stay, leaving her stuck with the kids.

I laughed, and Elise got mad. It took quite a while to calm her down and to convince her that I really, really hated being a woman. I didn't like it in the least bit, even if I'd gotten used to the idea. Not comfortable, used to. It was very comforting to Elise to discover how much I hated being a girl.

It was precisely four weeks later that we had trouble with Jeremy. Early Saturday, a girl came home. Jeremy. Just like before, but even more curvy, especially up top. Elise went nuts, scared at how he'd changed himself. I tried to caution him. It turned out that he'd changed two or three other times that we hadn't known about. He'd been working odd jobs and scrimping to save money for the Bikini Beach passes. We just hadn't caught him before.

I tried to intercede; it seemed to me to be just a young male curiosity thing. But Elise, I could tell, wasn't convinced. She wanted to ground Jeremy. I got him off the hook, which it turned out was a bad thing. He went out with the girls clubbing.

I was almost sleeping when he came in. Something didn't sound right. Normally, Jeremy was super-quiet when he came in. This time, though, it was as if he didn't care. I slipped from the bed and went to the kitchen to greet him.

The sight that greeted me brought back my own nightmare. Jeremy was a mess. His clothing was ripped and disheveled. His face was panic-stricken. I knew.

"You want to talk about it?" I asked cautiously.

Jeremy shook his head. "Nope."

"You had sex, didn't you." No question, just certainty.

Jeremy glanced at me, then he dropped his head and began to sob. "Uh huh," he mumbled through his blubbering.

I sighed heavily. "I thought so."

"How would you know?" Jeremy demanded, his voice conflicted between anger and humiliation.

"Because," I began evenly, "it happened to me, too."

Jeremy's head popped up, his eyes wide in surprise. "You, too?"

I nodded slowly. This time, I could talk to him without my cheeks burning from shame.

Jeremy tried to say something; his mouth moved, but nothing would come out. "You ... got laid ... too?" he asked, his voice quavering with uneasiness. I just nodded. "But how ...." Jeremy looked confused. "Did you like it? Is that why you keep ...?"

I slapped him hard, right across the cheek. "Damn you," I nearly screamed, "I _tried_ to warn you! I tried to persuade you what could happen!" My face was burning, but this time from my anger. "I tried, even when the memory of that night hurt me!" Tears were stinging my eyes. "But you wouldn't listen, would you?" All the emotions I'd bottled up burst to the surface at once, leaving me dazed in a muddle of feelings.

Jeremy rubbed his cheek, then he dropped his gaze. "I guess I had that coming," he mumbled. Finally, he looked up at me. "You didn't like it, did you?"

I fought the memory. "No," I answered simply. "I didn't. It was almost a rape!"

Jeremy rubbed away a tear. "Neither did I." He dropped his gaze again. "I got so confused. I was having fun with the girls. But when the guys came, I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know how to act. I was scared."

"That's how I felt, too."

Surprise was written on Jeremy's features. "Like you were out of control? Like you were so ... so vulnerable?"

The realization that I'd had those feelings too hit me like a bomb. "Yeah," I admitted softly. "Exactly." Inwardly, I was shaken to my core. That was _exactly_ how I'd felt, but had never found the words to say."

**********

It was almost exactly the one-year anniversary of my first modeling job that I came home from another shoot for the Randalls. This one was for their major mail-order catalog for their swimsuit line.

Elise had dinner set up when I got home. I asked what the occasion was, and she just smiled and reminded me of the anniversary. I was startled. It hadn't seemed like that long. And yet, at times, it seemed like it had been a lifetime. And to my pleasure and chagrin, it hadn't gotten any easier. If anything, I disliked my 'second career' even more than at the start.

We got a little drunk, me still in my female body. And we ended up getting, uh, intimate. It was weird. I felt strongly attracted to Elise, just like always, and when she put on her red and black teddy, I really started getting aroused. Then, she pulled out a skimpy little outfit for me, and we cuddled. Eventually, we ended up making love - both of us as women.

When I awoke, I was in my old male body. I glanced at Elise, sleeping peacefully on my arm, and I puzzled. Was she really bisexual? Or lesbian? One thing was certain - she'd been the aggressor the evening before. I was still pondering the question when she woke up.

Elise started to get amorous, but I couldn't get interested. What we'd done the night before bothered the hell out of me. Elise, to my amazement, was also confused. She'd never been attracted to another woman before; I was her first. But since the other woman was really her husband, it seemed to be okay. It didn't make sense, but it seemed okay to Elise.

**********

"How'd the shoot go?" Elise asked as she sipped her tea at the kitchen table.

I shrugged. "Another job," I answered without giving it any more thought. I was in my model body. "And they gave me the swimsuits as a perk."

Elise shook her head. "A perk?"

It was funny; most of the time, I couldn't use them. "Maybe Jeremy can use them."

Elise stiffened. "Don't." Something about Jeremy was bothering her greatly.

I knew what it was. "We're going to have to confront the issue," I said, trying to sound as calm as possible. Inside, my guts were churning. After the sex incident, I thought that Jeremy had gotten over his curiosity. It turned out I was wrong. Unlike my changes, Jeremy's were 'global', as Anya called it. Everyone but Elise and I knew him as Jillian when he changed. I shook my head; Anya must have _known_ what was going to happen, and in her own way, letting Elise and I remember Jeremy helped us prepare for this very moment.

It took a couple of months, but eventually, his comfort at being with the other girls overrode his fear and anger about the incident. Eventually, he even confronted the boy, Mark, about it. It turned out that _both_ of them had been drunk. Mark had huge regrets; he'd let his friends' dares and ribbing get to him. I turned out he was a really decent young man, and he and Jillian became friends, and then they even started dating. Jeremy was spending most of his weekends as Jillian just so she could date Mark.

"But ...." Elise shut up. Finally, she looked at me, and I could see the sadness in her eyes. "We're losing him, aren't we?"

I nodded sadly. Elise couldn't understand one thing. Jeremy was my son. A son. A male heir, someone to carry on the family name. Just like some say there's a special bond between a mother and her daughter, so is there a bond between father and son. Unlike the woman-to-woman bonding, a father and son didn't have a spoken bond, but rather, something a little more nebulous. "We don't have a choice," I added.

Elise sniffled. "Why?"

"I don't know." I lowered my head, feeling the stinging of tears. "But he's spending more and more time as a girl. He doesn't really talk - except when he's a girl."

Elise nodded sadly. "I know. I wondered if you noticed that." She shifted her gaze and stared out the window, at the appropriately gray skies of the threatening thunderstorm.

"So what do we do?"

Elise sighed. "His birthday is coming up. Maybe ...."

I knew the answer. We'd offer him a lifetime pass for a birthday present.

Elise trembled with her sorrow. "And if we don't? Why don't you talk to Anya? Make her refuse to get Jeremy any more passes." She sounded desperate.

I shook my head sadly. "We could block it until he turns eighteen. After that ...." Elise knew what I meant, and she dropped her head under the weight of the inevitable. "And if we prevent him from changing, then he's going to resent us."

Elise's eyes were closed against the inner turmoil. "I know." She sat silently for nearly a minute, while lightning flashed outside. "So we get it for his birthday?"

The irony wasn't lost on me, nor on Elise. I'd started the whole thing, and after a year of being a woman for modeling jobs, I still disliked changing. Jeremy, though, didn't. He wanted to change for good. I didn't understand.

**********

I'm working again, thank goodness. A retail chain decided to revamp the entire IT system, and overhaul their web presence at the same time. The funny thing is that I found out about the job while I was doing an advertising job for the chain. I overheard the managers talking while they reviewed the advertising campaign with the photographer. When I told them that I'd overheard, and that my brother Fred was pretty well qualified and might be perfect for the job, they were skeptical. But I had their names, and when I changed back, I got my resume right past the HR department and onto their desks. After that, the interview couldn't have gone better; I knew what they wanted and what strengths to emphasize. I landed the job.

I'm still modeling, though. We need to rebuild the college fund for Jillian and Melissa. Jillian has been a surprise; without the peer pressure from the jocks Jeremy hung with, Jillian has turned out to be a very sharp girl, and she's set her sights on Stanford, for a degree in engineering. When I checked the tuition, it helped persuade me to keep modeling.

For some reason, Elise doesn't want me to stop modeling, either. I don't understand that one. It's not sexual; except for that one night, we haven't done anything while I'm changed. She has helped me a lot with how women think and act, and it's helped. When I did another job for the Randalls, I was hit on all the time. Thanks to Elise, though, I didn't feel as helpless. Vulnerable, yes, but not helpless. It boosted my confidence greatly when I got through that job without any further damage to my reputation or purity.

I'd really like to quit. Between modeling and running a burgeoning IT department, I'm almost overloaded. If it weren't for Jillian's upcoming tuition and fixing Elise's car, I'd quit in a heartbeat. I still hate being a woman.

Anya says I'm an enigma. Most guys who change as often as I have end up changing permanently. They get used to it, and even quickly start to like it. Some stay oriented toward women sexually, and some end up liking sex with men. But not me. I don't like it, I don't want sex with guys, and I don't want sex with other women. It's more than enough that I _am_ a woman from time to time for my second job.

FIN

Synopsis: A family goes to Bikini Beach for a quiet day of fun and sun. Imagine the surprise of the father and little boy when they get to spend the day seeing the world from other side.

The Bikini Beach story universe and characters contained therein are copyright 1999 by ElrodW, all rights reserved.

**********************************************************************

“This one doesn’t look good, either.” Mike Harwin slid his key into the ignition as he slammed the car door. He glanced over the seat. “Sorry kids, but this doesn’t look like a very nice beach.”

There was an immediate cry of protest from little Jimmy and his sister Nichole, seated in the back of the sedan. From their commotion, one could easily guess that they’d been promised a day playing on the beach, but the promise was about to be broken.

Cindy Harwin glanced at the kids, seeing the disappointment on their faces. “Are you sure?” she asked, trying to find something hopeful.

Mike shook his head. “Lots of drinking. And it looks like a biker gang out there too. I’m sorry, but I don’t want the kids around that.”

Cindy nodded slowly. “I know. But we promised…”

Mike sighed. “Well, there’s not a lot we can do.”

Cindy glanced back at the children. She so wanted them to have their fun. Then she remembered something. “Hey, what about that new water park that just opened? Something Beach?”

Mike looked at her, thinking. “Bikini Beach? Is that the name? That sounds familiar. I thought I saw a commercial the other night.” He raised his eyebrow at his wife. “Bikini Beach? Are you sure that’s the kind of place you want me at?”

Cindy snorted derisively. “You’re a married man, you old lech. And I’ll be right beside you, making sure you keep your eyeballs where they belong.” She glanced quickly at the kids, who were still crying. "Let’s give it a try.”

**********

Mike was trying to keep his eyeballs front and center as he waited in line at the ticket window. This place was appropriately named, he decided. Bikinis were everywhere, and many were attached to young attractive ladies - shapely young ladies.

“May I help you?”

Mike turned, startled. “Um, yeah. Do you have family passes? You know, kids?”

The old woman in the booth looked at Mike and smiled pleasantly. “This is a private, members-only park, but we have some guest passes. And of course we entertain children. Would you like a one-day pass, or longer?”

Mike glanced over at Cindy and gave her a thumbs-up. He turned back to the window. “Two adults. My wife and I. And two children. Six and nine years.”

The woman rang up the total. “I do hope you enjoy the park. We have special areas for children who swim, and for toddlers.”

Mike smiled as he handed the woman his credit card. “We tried the public beaches, but…”

The woman nodded knowingly. “Don’t I know it! They’re just no place for young ladies — or children — to go!”

Mike signed the receipt and took his tickets. Cindy had already gotten the children from the car, and with their beach bags in hand, was waiting by the entrance.

Mike took Jimmy with him into the men’s locker room, while Cindy took his older sister to the ladies’ room. Mike was surprised at how small the men’s room seemed to be. He began to undress, but had to pause to catch his young son. A quick struggle and he had the boy corralled and changed into bathing trunks. Then he turned on the shower, pushed Jimmy in, and finished changing himself. After he closed the locker and pocketed the key, Mike stepped into a shower stall himself.

**********

Mike turned the corner to the exit. He frowned; walking seemed somehow different. And the door was heavier, harder to push open. It didn't make sense. He was busy trying to keep little Jimmy from scampering off. Once he had the boy's hand, they sat down on a bench. Something was wrong, he thought as he squirmed uncomfortably. The bench felt … funny! Odd. It was as if something wasn’t quite right. He pulled Jimmy up on the bench beside him.

“Where’s mommy?” Jimmy asked.

Mike smiled. “It always takes ladies longer to get dressed. That’s just a fact of life, son.” He smiled appreciatively at the pair of scantily-clad bathing beauties who sauntered past, and was puzzled by their giggling. He shrugged it off and straightened up.

Something didn’t feel quite right. Again. Like his legs were too short? He shifted on the bench, and got his feet back on the ground. And as he did so, he felt a peculiar heaviness in his chest.

“Daddy?” Mike glanced down at Jimmy. “Why do you have pitty-pats?” Jimmy was staring at Mike’s chest.

Mike glanced down, and his mouth dropped open. On his chest were … boobs! Modest sized, firm, bouncy boobs, with big nipples! Women’s breasts, on his chest! Mike clasped his arm over the breasts, feeling them pressing into his arm even as he felt his arm pressing against the new objects. He glanced back at his son, embarrassed.

Mike’s jaw opened further, if such were possible. Jimmy’s hair was long. Long and curly and girlish. Not only that, but his face was softer, too, like his sister. Mike felt a surge of panic. What the hell was going on here? This was impossible.

Cindy came out of the locker room with Nichole in tow. She glanced around, looking for her husband, convinced that he would be waiting. But she glanced right past him. Then her head snapped back. She focused on Mike and Jimmy, sitting embarrassed on the bench. “Mike?”

Mike nodded slowly. “Something happened to us,” he said, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. He flinched at the sound of his voice echoing in his ears. It was unmistakably feminine. Sure — Cindy was going to believe him - go into a locker room as men, come out as women. Happens every day.

“What…?” Cindy’s mouth still hung open.

“Ladies, topless sunbathing is really a bad example for your little girls.” The old woman’s voice interrupted their staring fest.

“What…” Mike tried to say, flinching again at the softer and more mellifluous sound that came out of his mouth.

The old woman smiled at Mike and Cindy. She held out a pair of bikini tops — one matching the bikini bottom that Mike’s trunks had changed into, and the other one for Jimmy. Mike stared at her, dumbfounded, until Cindy took the bikini top and began fastening it on him. Then she expertly finished Jimmy’s swim suit.

“What’s going on here?” Mike demanded again.

The old woman held out a couple of tokens to the children. “I bet you girls would love a soda, wouldn’t you?” She gave a reassuring smile to Mike and Cindy, and sent the children across the way to a soda concession. She straightened and smiled at Mike. “I run this park for young ladies.”

Mike shook his head. “But … somehow you changed me…?”

The old woman nodded. “Into a young woman. So you’d fit in. There are no men in my park to disturb the privacy of the girls. As I told you, this is a private, members-only park — for women” She watched the unbelieving stares of Mike and Cindy. “You’re here. You’ve changed. So you might as well enjoy the park. After the changes wear off, your children won’t remember anything except a fun day at a water park.”

Mike glanced at Cindy. “So this wears off when we leave?”

The old woman shook her head. “Sometime after midnight, the magic wears off." She smiled. “I’ve found that it save possible ... situations that way.” She looked a bit embarrassed. "I can't tell you exactly when, though. It varies from customer to customer."

**********

“Mom! Janey won’t let me have a turn.” Nichole’s voice called from the top of the water slide.

Cindy glanced up at her daughter. One of her daughters, she reminded herself as she saw Jimmy — Janey — in her cute little swimsuit and long braided hair. “Janey, let your sister have a turn.”

Cindy glanced beside her at Mike. Aunt Michelle, the kids were calling him. Her. She shook her head. This was so confusing. “The kids are having fun.”

Mike snorted. “Yeah, they are.”

Cindy gave him a disgusted look. “Would you at least try to enjoy yourself? You’re being such a pain.”

Mike lifted himself to stare at her, and was reminded of the change by the swaying on his chest. “Enjoy what? Being changed into a girl?”

Cindy looked cross. “Mike Harwin, you are being such a baby! We came here for a day of family fun, and we’re going to have a day of family fun! And you are part of the family!” She turned to the pool at the base of the slide. “Janey, Nichole, we’re going to go to the family slide!”

Cries of joy rang out from the pool as the two girls splashed their way to the side and climbed out. They eagerly took Mike’s hands and tugged him, leading him away from the pool to the big water slides.

**********

Mike found a scream coming from his throat as the big tube dashed way up the side of the water slide, then with a splash slid down and up the other side, all the while careening faster and faster down the incline. Water splashed them constantly, and the little girls were both giggling and screaming with delight. Mike glanced at Cindy, and saw a look of joy on her face. She was having fun. As they reached the bottom, the raft slowed and splashed into the catch pool. For a few seconds, they floated away from the slide, before Mike slid over the side and tugged the raft toward the unloading area. He heard the girls giggling as they clambered out.

“Want to go again?” he finally said as he shoved the raft to the waiting staff member. As he stepped out of the pool, Cindy looked at him cautiously, and then grinned. The two girls screamed their assent, and the foursome began the climb back to the top.

**********

“Are you sure about this?” Mike was surprised that he was the one voicing doubts. Cindy and the girls were ready and eager to go on the slide, but as he contemplated the ride, he felt butterflies. The seemingly vertical channel of the slide, the long runout, the pool at the bottom. Mike felt nervous.

Cindy grinned. “It’s a blast!” She seated herself in the starting pool, then when the lifeguard raised the bar, she heaved herself down. Mike watched nervously as she slid out of sight, then reappeared sliding toward the pool, entering with a great splash. She glanced toward the top, waving and grinning excitedly.

It was Janey’s turn. She put on a brave face, then slid down, screaming all the way. Next was Nichole. Same thing. Finally, it was Mike’s turn.

The lifeguard looked at him with amusement. “Cross your legs,” she admonished. “And cross your arms over your chest.” She lifted the bar.

Mike nodded to himself. Piece of cake. He lurched forward, then heard a girlish scream coming from his mouth as he dropped down the chute. Faster and faster his body hurtled, while he tried to keep his legs crossed. He felt his arms flailing, and tried to get them over his chest. Then he felt the small g-force as he turned onto the runout, and finally, with a splash that hit him like a ton of bricks, he splashed into the pool.

Mike sputtered out of the water, and glanced at Cindy. She was doubled over laughing, holding her hand over her mouth, pointing at him with one hand as she tried to control her mirth. Mike frowned. It wasn’t so funny to him.

Then he finally looked down to where she was pointing, only to see that his bikini top was hanging around his neck, exposing his bare boobs to the world. With an embarrassed frown, Mike tugged the tiny triangles of cloth, stuffing his breasts back into their concealment. He looked back up at Cindy, and saw tears in her eyes, so amused was she. Mike’s anger and frustration slowly melted. If the roles had been reversed, he’d have been the one laughing as Cindy tried to stuff herself back into her top.

**********

The solo rafts were fun. The mat slides were fun. The wave pool was fun, even if it did tear Mike’s top off again and again. Cindy laughed, but Mike silenced her when he complained that it wasn’t his fault if he were too well endowed for a bikini. They soaked up the sun on the beach, the girls building a sand castle while the adults lounged and rested.

The rope swing interested the girls for a long time. Once again, however, Mike found his boobs just wouldn’t stay in his bikini. They tried everything, including the little paddleboats in the pond. Finally, the sun began to set and it was time to go.

Mike led Janey into the one locker room, while Cindy took Nichole to the other. Mike opened the locker, not really knowing what to expect. Since the day had been magical, he wasn't too surprised when he found that their clothes had been changed as well. Janey took off her swim suit and then pulled on her pink panties and her sundress, while Mike slipped into his short shorts and halter top. What surprised Mike, though, was that he'd put on the clothes as if he'd been doing it all his life. They gathered their belongings and met Cindy and Nichole at the entrance.

It was late enough that they were hungry. Cindy suggested they stop at a drive-in for hamburgers, to which the kids agreed enthusiastically. Mike found himself stuffed even before half the burger was eaten, a fact which Cindy took great delight in. On the way home, the girls fell asleep in the back seat.

In the dim twilight, Mike pulled the car into the garage. He hoisted Janey from her seat, gasping at how heavy the little girl was. Then he chided himself. He, too, was changed. He didn't have the muscles he used to. This delicate feminine body was struggling to carry his little boy - er, girl. Mike found himself amazed at how easily - or seemingly easily - Cindy carried Nichole.

Up the stairs they trudged, with Mike being careful not to trip. As Cindy headed for Nichole's room, Mike turned for Janey's. Jimmy's. Damn, but this was confusing!

Mike gasped when he walked into Janey's room. It was so ... girlish! No Star Wars curtains. No Green Bay Packers bedspread. The messy stack of action figures was gone; in its place were dolls - Barbie dolls, and more dolls of all varieties. Yeesh, Mike thought. How many kinds of dolls are there? He caught himself; he knew that Nichole had a huge assortment of such toys in her room. It just seemed so odd to him that a similar pile was in _this_ room.

Even the bed was changed, to a white canopy bed, with lacy canopy and bedspread. Lacy pink curtains. Pink and red flowers on the wallpaper. And - this got the biggest gasp from Mike - no mess on the floor! He could understand the bed and the dolls. But the clean floor?

He tucked little Janey into the bed, then stared down at the angelic little face. It was his son, and not his son. He recognized the girl Jimmy would have been if a different sperm had won the race.

Tenderly, Mike leaned forward and kissed the little girl on the forehead. Then he trudged to Nichole's room, passing Cindy in the hall. Finally, having done the goodnight ritual, they both headed downstairs.

Mike slumped into a chair in the kitchen. "I'm beat," he finally said, still flinching at the sexy sound of his voice.

Cindy laughed. "When you decide to have fun, you really outdo yourself, don't you."

Mike smiled, a faint smile that seemed to take most of his energy. "Bedtime?"

Cindy looked at him and laughed. "In your condition, I don't think we have too many other options."

As Mike pulled up the blanket to tuck himself in bed, Cindy looked at him. "Well, how was it?"

Mike paused and glanced at her. "It was fun. I think we really enjoyed that park."

Cindy laughed. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Mike blushed. "I don't know what you mean."

This caused Cindy to howl. "Oh yeah? Mister Macho Studly won't admit that being a woman for a day was interesting, now, will he?"

Mike answered by flipping off the light. "See you in the morning."

**********

Mike - in his normal male body, sat at the table, reading the paper as he spooned in his Grape Nuts, part of his normal morning ritual. Cindy stared, then heard the commotion as two kids ran down the stairs. "Jimmy, Nichole," she yelled. "Breakfast first, then cartoons."

"Aw, mom!" Jimmy whined as he trudged into the kitchen. "I'm gonna miss Pokemon!"

The two grudgingly sat down and poured themselves some cereal while their mother got them juice.

As he dug into his bowl of cereal, Jimmy's face lit up. "That park was a blast! Can we go back today? Can we? Please?"

Nichole glanced at Jimmy, and then enthusiastically joined in. "Yeah, can we go back?"

Mike nearly choked on his Grape Nuts. Cindy watched him, and then started to laugh. "We'll see," she finally sputtered.

After the kids had eaten and were watching cartoons, Cindy started to laugh again. Mike looked up from the paper. "What's so funny?"

"They really don't remember! And they want to go back!" She started to giggle. "Funny, but I can't picture you in a bikini. Not right now, anyway."

Mike started to say something, but his mouth closed. For several seconds, he contemplated what had happened. Finally, he spoke. "I think you're insulting me because you're jealous." He watched his wife's expression change from amusement to surprise. "Yeah, that's right! You're jealous because I looked better in a bikini than you did."

It took a bit for Cindy to get over the shock so that mouth would work again. "Oh yeah? Well maybe we should just go back so I can prove just how wrong you are!"

Mike stood his ground. "Well, maybe we should! Because I know I'd win!"

Cindy stared defiantly at him. How dare he think he'd look better in a bikini! Then the absurdity hit her, and she couldn't keep a straight face. She had to sit down, she was laughing so hard. When she could talk again, she looked up at Mike. "You're serious, aren't you," she finally said.

Mike grinned. "Well," he shrugged, "It kind of gives me a better perspective. And I can think of worse ways to spend a family outing."

Cindy hugged him and gave him a peck on his cheek. "That's an interesting way to think of it. I suppose we can go back, as long as you don't get to like it too much." She kissed him again.

FIN