Kid Sister

Kid Sister By The Professor

Thursday, 24 October, 1996

I've looked at this little book with the pretty pink and yellow flowers on the cover every day since it happened. At first, I just ignored it. It was just one more prop in a play I didn't want to act in. I left it on the desk, dismissing it as something only girls would be interested in. I mean, I've never known a guy to keep a diary. I certainly wasn't going to keep one. Not me. I was a guy, no matter the evidence to the contrary.

But I've noticed that with each passing day, I seem to be losing little pieces of myself. When the change happened, I was angry and confused. Now, I'm frightened. I had consoled myself with the fact that deep inside, I would always be Daniel Franklin Korby, no matter what the outside looked like. Now I'm not so sure. That's why I've decided to bite the bullet and start keeping a diary. I want to remember who I really am - not what I appear to be.

I'm going to keep it my own way, though. If I find myself starting out "Dear Diary" on an entry, I'm going to throw myself off a cliff. I don't even really plan to keep this on a daily basis. I'll just make an entry when there's something I need to say. My greatest fear is that the person I will be in two or three years will pick up this book and wonder why I would ever write this. That person would wonder who this person was. Well, this person is me, and as I fight back the urge to get all emotional and just sit here and cry, I'd better start committing my story to paper.

Maybe I should start with a little personal history. That seems in order if I really want to remember the person I used to be. I know I'll probably never completely forget, but I might forget my hopes and dreams if I don't write them down. I don't want to forget them, no matter what.

I was born the third son of Grant and Cindy Korby. Dad had been a professional football player, most recently with the San Diego Chargers. His career in football had come to an end about the time I was born. He and my mother preferred San Diego to their native Midwest, so they elected to stay in Southern California. When I was born, Dad had just started working as a stockbroker in a suburban office north of San Diego. It was only a thirty-mile commute from our home in Rio del Diablo.

"Rio del Diablo," he would chuckle as I was growing up. "You can tell the Spanish weren't real estate developers. Who in their right mind would call this place 'River of the Devil'?"

They had named it with good reason according to the local history I had studied back in middle school. The river that cut its way through the valley in which the town was built was an unpredictable one, providing abundant water for crops one year, running practically dry the next, and swelling with an incredible fury to spread across the desert not far east of town and wipe out half the farms in the valley the next year. It wasn't until the Corp of Engineers dammed it up after World War II that the valley really came into its own.

By the time my parents had moved there back in the late seventies, the town was pretty well built out, already bordering on other small towns that had grown through the years in the wake of San Diego's explosive growth. It was a nice town, though, filled with middle class families. There were no slums and little crime. In short, it was the sort of town everyone sought. It was safe, fairly new, affluent, and comfortable.

My brother Jake was born two years after me, and my parents finally resigned themselves to the fact that they would never have a girl in the family. So with four boys, they concentrated on raising a football team. As I've already mentioned, Dad was a professional football player, playing quarterback at the University of Kansas and shifting to strong safety in the pros. After a slow start with Chicago, he was traded to San Diego where he really came into his own, going to the Pro Bowl three times.

Mom was no slouch either. She had been a varsity athlete in her own right, participating in women's track at KU where she held a couple of records that had never been broken. And no, she didn't have the rawboned look of many women athletes; she was an attractive blonde who looked outstanding in a skirt and heels.

I don't mention this without a purpose. I just want to note that I came from good stock. My oldest brother, Grant, Jr., is now in his rookie year with the Denver Broncos as a tailback and my next brother, Allen, is a starting safety at UCLA in only his sophomore year. My younger brother, Jake, is coming on strong at wide receiver, and he'll probably replace me - well, would have replaced me when I graduated.

Yes, I was a good football player, but I wasn't a dumb jock no matter what some people would have thought. I was a wide receiver, with the big strong hands and 6'3" height which, when coupled with my substantial speed, meant I was an outstanding college prospect. My grades were good enough to get me into Stanford if I wanted to, but I had a strong desire to play for my oldest brother's alma mater, San Diego State. While I was intelligent, I longed to play pro football, too, and the Aztecs had a wide open passing game that would serve me well with the pro scouts.

Did I mention I was a pretty good-looking guy, too? No? Well, I was. Okay, so a lot of the jocks who aren't dumb are egotistical. I suppose I was guilty of a little of that. But I had the reputation of being a pretty decent guy. I knew of guys not unlike myself who used their looks and their physiques to intimidate everyone. They'd bully the guys who weren't into sports and pop the cherry of every unsuspecting girl they could find. Not me, though. I had a number of friends who weren't jocks. It came from the fact that my grades were as good as theirs. I think some jocks envy the brighter guys, but not me. I was right up there with them.

As for popping cherries, it was mine that got popped. My junior year, I ended up on a date with... well, I suppose I shouldn't write her name down. She's married now. Anyhow, she was a year older than me, and a bunch of us ended up out on a beach at night with some wine. Normally, I didn't drink. The coach had a fit with any guy on the team caught drinking. But it was late spring and all sports were over for the year. I just had a couple of drinks, but it loosened me up. The girl I was with that night practically raped me. I have to admit I didn't mind.

The only other time I had a sexual experience was pretty much the same as the first time. Only that was at the beginning of this school year with Vickie Peters. It was no big deal, though. Vickie asked me out, as she had most of the team. We did it in the back seat of Dad's Buick. It was also where I experienced my first - and as it turned out - my only blow job.

So there I was, a senior in high school. I was a starting wide receiver with great college prospects, a good grade point average, good looks, girls at my feet, and an upper middle class lifestyle. In short, I was on top of the world. I never dreamed how fast everything could fall apart.

It all started last Saturday night. The Rio Red Devils had crushed our homecoming opponent on Friday night. I had caught four passes for seventy-five yards, including the first touchdown of the game - all in front of half a dozen college scouts. My numbers would have been better, but the coach let the second and third teams have all the fun in the second half. My younger brother caught the last touchdown pass of the game. When it was over, we had trounced our opponent 52-10. We were all feeling good.

I had a date with Allison Mathews. She was a sweet little redhead I had known since starting high school, but we had never dated before. I was never one of those guys looking for romance in high school. I dated a number of girls, but none of them very long. I think it was because as a young boy, I had known several girls who had been good friends, so I didn't have the urge to find my one true love in high school. I knew that would come in its own time.

Allison and I had dated casually off and on for the past year. We could tell early on that there was no spark between the two of us. We were just friends. In fact, there was only one girl in the school who was a closer friend, and that was Jennifer Dawson. Jenny and I were so close we didn't even bother to call our time together dates.

Anyhow, Allison and I would date when she was between boys. There were very few guys in our class who wouldn't have gladly surrendered their right nut for the privilege of being the very first guy to get in her pants. Fat chance, though. Allison was a very religious girl. She was "saving herself." I admired that in her, and Allison knew that. That was why we could date every now and then. She knew I respected her decision and there would be no funny business.

The party was going great. We even had a live band that sounded for all the world like Hootie and the Blowfish. Everybody was having a good time. I was drinking strictly soft drinks and punch. That is to say, I wasn't slipping outside with any of the guys for a quick jolt of anything with alcohol in it. Coach Hendricks would kill any player caught drinking during the football season, and I wasn't ready to die. I mention this just because I wasn't drunk or high or anything else that night. That's how I know I couldn't have done what they said I did.

Allison and I had slipped outside for a few minutes. No, it wasn't to make out; we really had gotten a little hot, and the music was too loud to talk. The party was being held at a local country club, so the grounds were well kept and beautiful in the moonlight. As we walked, we talked about classes and our classmates. Allison was telling me all about a trip she was going to be taking with her parents to Mexico over Thanksgiving when it happened. Right in the middle of the conversation, I blacked out.

I had never been out cold before. Even when I had gotten hit in the last game of the previous season, colliding head on with an opposing safety, I had managed to stay alert. Now, there I was, walking along with Allison when the lights suddenly went out - way out.

The next thing I recalled was a girl screaming. The lights came back on slowly as if the senses were being turned back on one at a time. Even before I could see, I could feel rough hands on my arms, pulling me first backwards and then up to my feet. The screams had changed to cries of fear and distress, and behind me I could hear rough voices yelling, "Get off her!" and "What the hell are you doing?"

Then, I could see again, and I almost wished I couldn't for what I saw was Allison on the grass behind some shrubbery. There was a long scratch on her cheek, probably from one of the branches of the shrubs, and her dress was torn, literally ripped away, and her bra pulled away so that one full breast was exposed. She was looking up at me with pure horror in her tear-filled eyes.

"What?" was all I could manage to say as I was turned to face Coach Hendricks. It had been he who had pulled me up.

"Korby, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

I had awakened into a nightmare. How could I answer the question when I had absolutely no idea what I had been doing? "I..." I started, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"And stick your dick back in your pants, boy!" the Coach growled in a low whisper. "Have you lost your mind?"

Maybe I had, I managed to think through the haze. I looked down at my exposed penis and as my face flushed at the sight of several of my classmates - male and female - who had gathered at the sounds of the screams, I managed to stuff it back inside my pants. It wasn't all that easy since it was partially erect. The look of disgust from my classmates will be with me forever.

Two other men, one of them a friend of my father's, rushed up. "I called the police," my father's friend told the Coach, indicating his cell phone. "They're on their way."

Coach Hendricks looked me squarely in the eye. "This is what comes of drinking," he told me. I started to tell him I hadn't been drinking, but I could taste something in my mouth. Although I never liked it, I could tell it was whiskey of some type. I remained quiet as the Coach went on. "You're off the team, Korby. You'll be lucky if you don't do jail time. If I had my way, I'd lock you up and throw away the key. God damned pervert."

I knew he meant it. The Coach had two daughters of his own, not much younger than Allison. He appeared ready to say more to me, but two police officers appeared suddenly. With little preamble, one of them moved me away, one arm held behind my back. I was actually happy to be led away. I was embarrassed to be seen like this by so many of my friends. All of them, even Jennifer Dawson, were looking down or away so they wouldn't have to look at me.

The next two hours were a blur. I was still a little out of it. I had never taken drugs in my life, but I imagined this must be what it was like to come off a high. I was confused and inarticulate, barely able to stand as they took away my tie, belt, and the contents of my pockets. I was just staring into space when they took my fingerprints and my picture. Then they roughly shoved me into a cell. At least I had the cell all to myself. I don't think I could have faced anyone at that moment, even another prisoner. I didn't know what to do, so I did something I hadn't done since I was a small boy - I lay back on the cot and began to cry.

"Dan!"

It was my father's voice, bringing me out of a troubled sleep. It had all been a dream! It was just a terrible nightmare, I told myself. But then I opened my eyes, and the harsh jail light flooded back in. My father was standing over me.

"Are you all right?" he asked. There was concern in his voice, and I could see the pain in his face. I'd always been a son to be proud of, but now, I was in jail, apparently being held for an attempted rape. I didn't know what to say to him. How could I tell him what had really happened? How could I expect him to believe me?

"I'm okay, I guess."

"Come on," he said, still standing over me without touching me. "I've arranged for bail for you. Let's get you home."

The police sullenly gave me my belongings and made me sign for them. I could see the distaste in their eyes. I was a sex criminal, and many of them had daughters I was sure. I wanted to die right then and there.

What had I done? I wondered as my father silently drove me home. I didn't remember a thing. Had someone slipped something into my drinks? And why couldn't I remember any of it? It was as if I had suddenly been jerked out of my life and stuffed into this one. How could I possibly defend myself? What must Allison - what must everyone - think of me? My life was ruined in an evening. Nothing would ever be right again.

"Your mother is sleeping," Dad said as he guided the car into the garage. "The Doctor gave her something to help her sleep. She's... very upset, Dan."

I closed my eyes. I tried not to imagine what it must have been like for her when she found out about me. My mother loved all of her boys, but in a way, I was her favorite. I don't know why, but I was the one she seemed to confide in. I was the one whose goals had matched hers. I wanted to teach and coach at the high school level when I got out of school and finished a football career, and her goal had been to teach as well. Now that goal would be shattered for me. A sex criminal as a teacher or a coach? No way.

"Get some sleep," my father told me tonelessly. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

Yeah, in the morning, I thought. Then we could start to plan my court defense. Then we could start to figure out what needed to be done with me. Even if by some miracle I managed to get off on sexual assault charges, my life was ruined. I felt like a piece of glass that had been shattered. No matter how many shards of the glass could be found and glued back together, the glass would never be whole - or useful - again.

I stumbled into my room, pulling off my jacket and shirt as I went. I didn't even bother to turn on the light, so I didn't see Jake sitting in the corner.

"What happened?" he asked softly. Jake and I were the only two boys left at home now that Allen had gone away to college. As a result, we had become quite close.

"You wouldn't believe me," I said with a sigh.

"Try me."

"Okay, why not?" I told him what I remembered. I told him about how great everything was going at the party and how Allison and I had left just to take a walk. I told him about waking up without any idea of what had happened.

Jake whistled. "I don't know, Dan. I don't think anybody will buy that story."

"Even you?" I asked softly.

"I want to believe you," Jake said with sympathy. "I really do. But think about how it sounds. What could make you do this and not remember any of it?""

A perverse hope swelled inside me. "Maybe it's a tumor, Jake," I theorized. "I might have a brain tumor. It might have made me do this and then forget about it."

"You sound as if you hope it is," he observed.

"Maybe I do," I admitted as I fell into bed. "It's about the only thing that might explain this."

"Well, I hope it's not," he told me as he rose to leave. He put his hand on my shoulder. "I'd hate to lose you."

It was at least a small comforting thought, and it allowed me to drift off to sleep.

I awoke the next morning hoping that the previous night had only been a bad dream, but I knew deep down that that wasn't the case. The horror I had felt upon seeing Allison screaming at me, the antiseptic smell of the jail cell, and the dour look from my father all were too clear in my mind for it to have been a dream. While I felt embarrassed, I did not feel as if I had done anything wrong. Attacking Allison had not been a conscious decision; it just happened. I mean, even if I had been drinking booze and attacked her, I remembered none of it. One moment, we were walking and talking and the next moment, my life had been ruined.

No one else was up yet, so I managed to get in a shower and get dressed without my family looking at me as if I were a condemned prisoner. Come to think of it, that might be what I was. I was only out on bail, and I knew enough about the legal system to realize that only meant I was free until tried and - in all likelihood - convicted of sexual assault. What was the phrase? Oh yes: penetration no matter how slight. I just hoped and prayed Coach Hendricks had stopped me before... before I had penetrated Allison.

I went out in the yard to pick up the morning paper, cringing as I realized I might even be the subject of a story. At least I wasn't eighteen yet. That meant they wouldn't print my name. A fat lot of good that would do me, though. Everyone in town would know about it by sundown.

I picked up the paper just as Jennifer was running by, her long brown hair tied in a ponytail and swinging as she ran. As I said, of all the girls I knew, she was my closest friend. She only lived a couple of blocks away and frequently ran past the house. I had even run with her a few times. As bravely as I could, I called out, "Good morning, Jen."

She had been ignoring me I realized, but as I spoke, she stopped abruptly in front of me, her blue eyes drilling into me. "How can you be so calm after what you did?" she muttered in amazement. "How can you even speak to me?"

I was taken aback. I hadn't expected that from Jennifer. Oh, I had expected her to be upset, but our friendship went back to when we were both in first grade. She had been there for me when my grandfather died, and I had stood by her four years ago when her sister, Lynn, had died in a car accident. I thought of her almost as family, and I guess I had expected her to react like members of my family had.

"I... I'm sorry, Jen," I apologized.

"And don't call me Jen!" she snapped. "It's Jenny or Jennifer."

"But I've always called you Jen," I pointed out. I didn't add that I had always been the only one who did. "You never minded before."

"You never did what you did last night before," she replied.

"Look, I'd like to explain about that," I began. I was about to go into my story, but she stopped me with a motion of her hand.

"Don't go any further," she ordered. "I'll just get more angry with you. You know, Dan, I thought you were special. I thought you were different. But no, you're just like the Swensons."

Who were the Swensons? I wondered. Before I could ask that, she was gone, running down the street without another word.

"Jen... Jenny," I called after her.

"You'll get yours, Korby," she called out over her shoulder. "You can depend on that!"

I don't think I had ever felt lower. If Jen - Jenny - felt that way about me, what must everyone else think? I was a pariah. No one would believe me. Most, like Jenny, wouldn't even listen to what I had to say.

The rest of the morning didn't go any better. My father continued his stony looks, gruffly responding to me when necessary. Mother still couldn't bring herself to talk to me about it. It was all she could do to keep from crying every time I looked at her. Maybe guys who did the things I was accused of willingly could live with themselves, but I was having a lot of trouble. I didn't even remember what I had done, and I certainly hadn't done it willingly.

Thank god for Jake, though. He got me through the morning. He even took me outside so we could throw the football around for a little while. I was go grateful to him that I did my best to hide the fact that every pass from him I caught was a reminder that on top of everything else, I had been thrown off the team. Hell, I realized, I had probably been thrown out of school, too.

I considered myself one of the good guys. Sure, I drank a little when I wasn't playing sports, and I had partied a bit. But I had kept myself clean - no drugs, no criminal behavior. The worst thing I had ever done apart from a little trip last summer to TJ to see the sex shows was that little party some of the guys and I had held up the canyon along the river before school started. Even at that, we had just sat around at one of the old line shacks left over from ranching days and drank a few beers. I had a little headache the next day and swore off beer until after the school year.

Now here I was, one of the bad guys.

Imagine my surprise when I got a call from Jenny. Jake had told me who was on the phone. I was a little relieved. Every time the phone had rung, it had been more bad news. As I expected, the school called to notify me I had been suspended until further notice. My father's attorney had called with the "good news." The District Attorney was only filing lewd and indecent exposure charges and some sort of sexual assault short of rape charge. With luck, I'd only get a short sentence and a lot of probation time. Of course, my life would be ruined, but so what?

"Hello," I said hesitantly. I half expected Jenny to just give me hell over the phone.

Her voice was terse but steady. "I need to see you."

"Why?" After all, she had made it clear to me only a few hours before that she never wanted to see me again.

"Let's just say I can help you with your problems."

I admit I was a little hesitant. Jenny had made it clear earlier that she thought I was pond scum. Why was she suddenly willing to help me? I supposed she remembered that we had once been the best of friends. And I certainly needed all the help I could get.

I looked at my watch. It was a little after two. "Dad has grounded me," I told her, "but I might be able to get away with a short walk. Can you meet me in front of the Samuelson's house?" That was a couple of blocks away and out of sight from my house. I didn't want Dad to see me with Jenny. If he saw me with a girl, he would probably freak out, given what had apparently happened the last time I was with a girl.

"Okay. Be there in fifteen minutes." She then hung up.

What did Jenny have in mind? How could she help me with my problems? All I really wanted from one of my oldest friends was for her to listen to my side of the story. I mean, there was no doubt I did what I did, but I didn't remember any of it. How could I make her believe me?

Slipping out of the house wasn't a problem. Mother was resting again. She seemed on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Dad and Jake were watching a game. Jake had invited me to watch with them, but I couldn't stand the thought of watching a football game knowing my own future in football was nil.

I called to my dad that I was going to take a short walk. Apparently when I called out to him, KU was on the five yard line with a third down, so his interest was elsewhere. That was fine with me.

I had expected Jenny to come running up to me, but instead, I recognized her behind the wheel of her mother's little BMW Z-3. The top was down and her long brown hair whipped loosely in the breeze. She pulled to a stop and ordered, "Get in."

I quickly got in next to her. Without a word, she pulled away from the curb. Then she said, "I got a Coke for you." She motioned to an open can in the cup holder next to me.

"Thanks," I said, taking a sip. I didn't say anything. I was waiting for Jenny to talk to me. This was her game. She'd have to set the rules.

But she said nothing as she drove, heading over to the main drag, then turning east.

"Jenny, something happened to me last night," I finally began, unable to stand the silence.

"Sure," she growled. "You just saw Allison and couldn't help yourself."

I sighed, taking another drink. "You don't have to be sarcastic about it. Look, Jen - Jenny - I wasn't myself when I did that. I don't even remember doing it. One minute, Allison and I were talking and the next minute Coach Hendricks was pulling me away from her. I honestly don't remember anything in between. You know me, Jenny. You've known me most of your life. If I was that kind of an... an animal, wouldn't you have figured it out by now."

She seemed to be quietly considering that as she drove past the edge of town out into the farmland that spread out from the river. "Maybe you had too much to drink," she suggested. Was it my imagination or had her voice softened just a little?

"I never drink during football season," I reminded her. "Unless somebody slipped something in the punch last night, I haven't had anything to drink in a couple of months. Jenny, you have to believe me. You have to help me."

She looked at me, and her glare softened a little when she saw the tears in my eyes. She even slowed the car a little, as if she was debating about continuing.

"I... I..." I tried to speak, but I seemed to be losing my ability to control my voice. Oh no! I thought. Was I starting to black out again? Was the mindless animal who had attacked Allison about to rise up again and attack Jenny? I fought for control. No, this wasn't the same sensation I had felt the night before, but I seemed to be drifting off to sleep.

"Dan, the decision has already been made," she said to me as I began to drift off. "I'll do what I can for you, though. I just hope you're telling me the truth."

It was the last thing I heard.

No, this wasn't like the last night with Allison at all. The night before, I had blacked out, and the time when I had committed my crimes were completely lost to me. But from the time I passed out in Jenny's car until I awakened, I had vague perceptions of what was going on. I felt the brakes of the car grip and heard the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. I could smell the dusty air and feel the sun against my face. I was pulled roughly from the car, and I could hear voices - familiar voices as at least four people, one for each limb, carried me from the car. All of the voices were female, and I could even remember musing that I must have been quite a load for four girls to carry.

Then, the sun was off my face. I was inside a building, but an old, unused one from the musty smell and creaking boards. I was hot. October in Southern California can be quite warm, and there was little ventilation in the building.

"He's waking up!" a girl's voice hissed.

"I'll take care of it," another said. I felt my head being held up. There was a bottle at my lips with something cool and refreshing in it. Without thinking, I drank as someone held my head. Then I passed out again.

Unlike the night before, I dreamed, but I almost wished I hadn't. It was dark in my dream - not the darkness of night, but rather the darkness of something else - something evil and foreboding. It was the sort of dream where you're standing in a shapeless room and can't even see the walls unless you look right at them. But you aren't looking at the walls to begin with. Instead, you are trying to figure out just what is in the room with you. Whatever it is, it can't be seen; it can only be... felt. And heard. It chuckled softly, amused by my discomfort. I had to get away from it. I had to wake up. I -

"Welcome back, Dan."

I recognized the voice. It was Stacy - Stacy Palmer, one of the girls in my class. Slowly, I opened my eyes, letting myself be flooded with sensations. It was dark, but I was still in the building. The moldy odor was still there. Moonlight flooded in through an open window, and a cool breeze played over my naked body.

Naked?

Yes, I was naked. I tried to move an arm to cover myself so Stacy couldn't see me, but my arm refused to move. It wasn't that I was tied down. Rather, I was laid out, spread-eagled on the rough wooden floor, unable to move anything but my head. I turned it from side to side, making out five figures in the semi-darkness. They were all girls from their shapes. I recognized Stacy from her blonde hair in the soft moonlight. Jenny was standing next to her. As for the others, they were too far from the light for me to see who they were.

I was relieved to see they weren't carry torches, long knives and wearing black robes, but somehow I got the feeling they might as well have been.

"What... what have you done to me?" I managed to ask through drug-thickened lips.

"Nothing - yet," another voice replied, amused. This got a little giggle from the group. I thought I recognized that voice, too. Yes, it was Stephanie Long, another girl in my class. Let's see, Stacy, Stephanie and Jenny. That meant the other two were probably Karen Withers and Pam Davison. The five of them hung around together.

"We're going to make sure you never do to any other girl what you did to Allison," another voice said. Yeah, that sounded like Pam's voice.

"Are we ready to begin?" another voice asked. It was Karen. Hail, hail, the gang's all here, my dulled mind thought.

"Not quite." It was Jenny. Good to her word, she was going to help me. Good old Jen - Jenny. "I want to claim him."

There was a collective gasp from the other girls. Claim me? What the hell was she talking about?

"Jenny," Stacy said softly, "we all agreed..."

"I know." I could see Jenny's head nodding in the moonlight. "But this isn't like the Swensons. I mean, Dan's never done anything like this before."

"And he never will again after tonight," somebody interjected to sounds of laughter. I couldn't tell who had said it.

"No, he won't," Jenny said evenly, "but shouldn't some good come out of all of this? You know what my... my parents have been going through. This is a chance to use this terrible incident for good. I promise you he won't have an easy time of it."

They were all quiet for a moment, as if considering Jenny's words.

"We'll all see to that," Stephanie said to the added mutterings of agreement from the other girls.

"Then it's agreed?" Jenny asked.

"No!" It was Karen. Her voice was strong and angry. She got in Jenny's face. "We all agreed what was to become of him and all like him."

"I'll take responsibility for him," Jenny argued, holding her ground. "It won't be pleasant for him."

"Let her have him!" Stacy broke in, pulling Karen away. Even in the dim light I could see the flash of anger in Karen's dark eyes. "It's nearly midnight. We will all make sure he suffers as planned."

Karen relaxed slightly. "Very well, but remember our pledge. He suffers as we planned."

As Karen looked from girl to girl, each silently nodded. I began to sweat. What had they planned for me? Were they going to castrate me? I had heard of girls doing that for revenge. I tried to speak, to make them understand that I wasn't a rapist. There was something wrong with me that I couldn't control. It wasn't my fault. But I could say none of that. All that came out of my mouth were unintelligible mutterings.

"Oh look," Karen said, her attention suddenly focused on me. "He's trying to talk. Enjoy your nice, deep voice. It's the last time you'll ever hear it that way."

My eyes widened. Oh my god, I was right - they planned to castrate me! I suppose looking back on it, they did - in a way. They gathered around me in a circle. I couldn't turn my head far enough to see all of them, but I could hear them, chanting in some language I had never heard before. In the moonlight, I could see their eyes, or at least I could see Jenny and Karen's eyes. Then I realized it wasn't just reflected light in their eyes. Their eyes had taken on a luminescence of their own.

The night before waking up over Allison had been a frightening experience for me, but it was nothing like this. I could feel my breathing becoming rapid and irregular. Perspiration was forming all over my body. My muscles hurt as I tried to move - to get up and run as fast as I could - but I couldn't move, except for my head. I could feel my heart beating faster, as if it were about to explode. I thought I might be dying.

Then there were suddenly new sensations. My skin began to crawl. It was almost as if there were live creatures under my skin, causing it to ripple and shift. There were other sensations as well. There was a tickling at the back of my neck, a pinprick pain in the lobes of my ears, and my body temperature seemed to be rising to an uncomfortable level, almost as if it were cooking away.

I tried to look down to see what was happening to my body, but although I could turn my head from side to side, I was unable to lift it. The muscles in my neck seemed as unresponsive as everywhere else. I could only feel what was happening. I cried out in fear and frustration, surprised to hear that my voice sounded strained and high-pitched.

Curiously, I felt an erection, as if fear could sexually stimulate me. Then, it seemed to ebb, my penis becoming flaccid. Well, not exactly flaccid; it was almost as if it wasn't there. I felt an odd sensation between my legs - not unpleasant but odd. In fact, my entire body felt odd. I felt strange sensations in my nipples, as if the perspiration and the night breeze had combined to make them suddenly sensitive. Again, the feeling was more odd than unpleasant. Just what had happened to me? I wondered as the chanting stopped. Before I could consider it further, I passed out again. It was getting to be a disturbing habit.

I dreamed that night - vivid dreams of unimaginable scope. It was as if I was living my entire life in the dream, but not as myself. I was someone else, but I couldn't tell just who. Many of my friends were there, and to my relief, none of them seemed to be angry with me anymore. I needed to know who I was. I looked down at myself and...

...began to hyperventilate. I was alone in a room and no longer asleep. I had heard the gentle morning sounds outside - the breeze, the birds, the occasional hum of tires on pavement. I had opened my eyes, slowly at first for I was still tired. Maybe it had all been a dream. I was in bed, wasn't I? Perhaps I really hadn't been at the mercy of Jenny and her friends. Maybe the dream went back further, to the night before. Maybe I had never assaulted Allison.

Awareness came slowly. I began to realize that the room that I was in was not my room. The early morning light showed a room cast in pastel yellows and complimentary whites. The Chargers poster and football trophies were gone, replaced by things I didn't recognize. My covers were not familiar, being more silky and lacy than I had ever known, and as I lay on my back staring down at them, I saw two perceptible bumps beneath them. Worse yet, I could feel the bumps. I sat up with a start. That was when I began to hyperventilate again.

My breasts - for I knew that's what they were - swung with gravity, pulling downward slightly. My hips seemed to be a pool of flesh, far more substantial than I would have imagined. Hair fell about my shoulders, and I could even feel it through the thin garment I wore. I tried to control my breathing, uncomfortable with the high-pitched whisper each breath made.

My brain overloaded. The sensations that flooded into it were too alien to understand. I had to let it go. I had to scream. I prepared myself to do just that when the door to my room opened and Jenny stepped in.

"Shh!" she commanded. I was so surprised to see her that I managed to swallow the scream before it happened. "You'll wake Mom and Dad."

"Mom and Dad?" I managed to ask, embarrassed at my high, musical voice. "We're at your house?"

"Actually, we're at our house," she replied with a little grin as she sat down on the bed next to me. I looked at her. She was wearing an outfit which I realized was much like my own - a lacy nightie that I later learned is called a chemise. The main difference was that hers was a rose color and mine was white.

"Our house?"

"That's right," she said brightly. "You're my younger sister now."

It took everything I had to keep from passing out again. Jenny only had one sister, and she was dead. I looked down at myself again, then up at Jenny. "I'm... I'm Lynn?"

She shook her head. "No. But everyone will think you're a sister I never had. Your name is Megan."

"This isn't possible," I mumbled, bracing myself on one arm. Looking down at the arm, it was easy to see it was possible. Instead of my normal large, powerful arm and large receiver's hand, my arm was small and slender, nearly hairless, ending in a small, graceful hand whose fingers were tipped with feminine nails coated in a frosted pink shade.

"I think you realize it is possible," she replied. "And before you ask, it was magic. I won't tell you more than that, so don't bother asking. You should thank me, actually. If Karen and some of the others had had their way, you'd be like the Swenson brothers now."

"You mentioned them before. Who are the Swenson brothers?"

"They're the twin brothers who raped Becky Mitchell in July."

I knew Becky well. She dated one of the guys on the team; she had dated him for about a year. Becky was a bright, sunny girl. If she had been raped, I would have heard about it. "Becky wasn't raped," I argued.

"Oh yes she was," Jenny insisted. "You just don't remember it. That's because we caught the Swensons just like we caught you. After they were changed into girls, no one - including Becky - remembered anything about the rape. No one but us even remembers the Swenson twins existed. But they know. They're twin strippers at Girlville now."

Girlville was a local strip club. Well, as local as any strip club could be. It was a couple of miles out of town on the road to San Diego. Come to think of it, my older brother had gone there a couple of weekends ago while he was home, and he had mentioned something about twin strippers. The word was they could be had cheap.

I looked down at myself with a shudder. I tried not to think about what it must be like to bare my new breasts at Girlville, a phony smile on my face while I wiggled for tips.

"I don't deserve this," I blurted, almost in tears.

"I disagree," Jenny told me bluntly. "You nearly raped Allison. In fact, if you hadn't been stopped before you could, I doubt if I could have convinced the others to let me have you. As it is, it was close as you saw last night."

"But I didn't..." I began, unsure where to go with it. I had been caught ready to rape Allison. The fact that I didn't remember doing it didn't change the facts. I let my voice go silent.

"Look, if you say anything else about how innocent you are, I'll let Karen and the others have their way with you. It isn't too late, you know. They can have you in platform heels stripping until your boobs sag before you know it if I say the word. Is that clear?"

There would be no arguing with her. The look she gave me was the exclamation point at the end of her statement. I looked away to avoid her stare. It was hard to do without looking down at myself, and I didn't want to do that either.

"And even if I believed you - which I don't - it wouldn't do you any good."

I managed to look up at her. "What do you mean?"

"We can always change you into another girl, but we can't change you into a guy again," she explained. "There are limits to the magic."

I felt my new, smaller stomach turn and bile rise in my throat. Was she telling me the truth? If she was, then no matter what I said or did, I was condemned to be female for the rest of my life. It was as if my life was over. I suppose in a way, it was. I would never play football - at least not in college or the pros. I would never do a thousand things that I had never verbalized, but would have been part of my life if I had remained male. I would never marry a woman and father a child. I would never catch the winning pass in the Super Bowl. I would never bench press four hundred pounds. I would never be a man.

Of course, other doors opened for me as surely as those doors had closed, but I wanted no part of them. As I write these lines, I still don't want them. I don't want to marry a man, get pregnant and give birth to a baby. I don't want to live my life as a woman, although I see no other option. But this was last Sunday, and I found the prospects of living my life as a female even more frightening then than I find them now. How could I do this?

Slowly, I got out of bed. As Jenny watched, I made my way uncertainly to a full-length mirror behind the door that Jenny had closed when she came in. I watched in silent horror as the unfamiliar girl that was me got closer and closer to the mirror. Through the chemise, I could see the shape of round breasts, still not fully matured but substantial, that bounced subtly behind the gossamer material of the nightie. My hips, I could see were wide, although not as wide as other girls I had known, and my waist was very narrow. My legs were long and well-shaped, ending in narrow ankles and small, shapely feet. My arms were thin. I knew they were normal, but after being a male who lifted weights often, they seemed like weak, useless sticks.

My hair was long and brown - the same color as Jenny's, and from the pale white skin and small collection of freckles on my face, I looked like a younger version of Jenny. "How... how old am I?"

"Fifteen," Jenny replied. "You're a sophomore again."

Then I was the same age Lynn would have been if she had lived. I was actually a little relieved. My face looked so young and my body so girlish I was afraid I was only twelve or thirteen. It would be bad enough going through two years of school again - this time as a girl. If I had to go back to middle school or even elementary school, it would be even worse. At fifteen, I'd still have a little freedom and not be treated like a child. But of course, I wasn't quite old enough to drive now.

"Now, let me explain the rules," Jenny said, motioning for me to sit down beside her on the bed. When I was seated, she continued, "The only way I could get all the other girls to go along with this was to agree to how you are to be treated and how you are to act. If you violate the rules, my hands are tied, and most of the girls would love nothing better than to make your life miserable."

It was already miserable, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut.

"You are now Megan Sue Dawson - Meg for short. You will act like a normal fifteen year old girl at all times. That means you will dress like a girl, act like a girl, talk like a girl, and think like a girl."

"But I don't know how!" I protested.

"I know you don't," she agreed, "but I'll teach you."

I said nothing. What was there to say? I couldn't change back if Jenny was to be believed, and since she had never knowingly lied to me, I believed it was true. I would have to learn how to be a girl or die. To be honest, dying didn't seem like such a bad idea. Okay, I was feeling sorry for myself. In any case, I began to feel something welling up inside me. I could feel my lips quivering. Then, without warning, I burst into tears.

Jenny put her arm around me. "Cheer up, Meg. It won't be that bad. Besides, you're helping three families."

"Th...three f...f...families?" I managed through the sobs.

"That's right," she replied. "Reality has changed since your transformation. Allison was pretty torn up by what you as Dan did to her."

I turned to face Jenny, "But I didn't - "

Jenny looked at me sternly. "Remember what I told you? I don't want to hear that."

I was silent.

"Anyhow," Jenny went on, "Allison is fine now. Nothing ever happened to her. And I'm sure your family is fine, too, without living with the shame of what you did."

"But... you mean they don't even remember me?" It was bad enough that I had been changed. Now, it seemed I had never existed.

"That's right. It's actually easier since you had three brothers. Residual memories they might have of you will be attributed to one of your brothers."

I stopped to consider all the things I had done together with my brothers. Jenny was probably right. Many of the things I did could just as easily have been done by one of my brothers. I broke my arm at the age of eight when I fell out of a tree. Allen had broken his at nine. Now, if my parents even thought about it, they'd just think of Allen. My god, I wasn't even going to be a clear memory. This was worse than being dead. I never even existed!

"You mentioned a third family," I managed to say.

"I thought that would be obvious," Jenny remarked. "I was referring to my family. Meg, you and I grew apart a little when we got older. No, don't protest. It's natural. I had girl interests and you had boy interests. Do you remember how Lynn was killed?"

I nodded. "Yeah. She died in a car accident."

"That's right," Jenny agreed. "Dad had just picked her up from some Girl Scout function. He was tired that evening; he had worked late the night before. He got distracted and ran a red light. He was lucky, but Lynn was killed instantly. Mom never forgave him for that, and to be frank, I don't think he ever forgave himself. Meg, my parents - our parents now - have been on the verge of breaking up. They fight too much and they drink too much. It all started with Lynn's death.

"Don't you see? You were the perfect opportunity for me to correct that tragedy. We were going to change you anyway. Why not use you to replace Lynn? No one remembers Lynn now - except me. So you see, our parents don't even remember losing Lynn."

"Wouldn't it just have been easier to make me into Lynn? You could have made me forget who I was and warp reality so that everybody believed I was Lynn and that the accident never happened," I pointed out.

"It takes all of us to do the magic," she explained. "I might have done that if I could do it alone. The other girls wanted you punished for what you did to Allison. You had to remember who you had been so you'd remember what you lost. You have to be a girl even though you don't want to be. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a punishment."

That still didn't explain why she hadn't turned me into Lynn. There was something she was hesitating to tell me. I didn't know what it was. In fact, I still don't. Whatever it could be, I would have to wait to find out. I suspected it was just because she couldn't stand to have me pretend to be Lynn. Better to have me be an entirely new sister and have her parents believe that Lynn never existed.

"Now, our parents will be up soon," Jenny went on. "They'll want us to go to church with them. I have a lot of things to go over with you, so let's get started."

I was sure I wasn't going to like my lessons in girlhood, and I was right. The first thing I had to learn was basic feminine hygiene, like how to take a pee and wipe myself. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to release my now-full bladder, but I found taking a pee no more difficult than as a male. The only difference, of course, was that I now had to squat to pee. I watched in morbid fascination as I wiped myself. The feminine slit was clearly visible through my silky pubic hair, and as I wiped, I realized that it wouldn't be long until many guys considered that innocuous little bit of anatomy as a grand prize. I vowed to myself to make sure that day was a long time off.

Jenny had me take a quick shower. She emphasized the quick part. I think she was afraid that the pervert part of me might want to play with all the new parts. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I tried very hard to spend as little time washing the emptiness between my legs as possible. And as for the breasts, I reddened slightly every time I looked down at them. I was particularly distressed to see the oversized pink nipples become slightly erect as the water cascaded off them.

I winced at the thought of putting on silk pink panties and a matching bra, but I had to admit - only to myself of course - that they felt right over my altered body. They clung reassuringly to my skin. It felt strange to be putting on panties without a slit in them. Of course, I thought with a sudden twisted inspiration, they did have a slit in them - all the way in them. Of course, even if there had been a slit in the front, it wouldn't have done me much good. My days of standing at the urinal were over.

Many people went to church dressed casually. It had to be my luck to be thrust into a family that still believed in dressing up for church. Jenny patiently showed me how to put on panty hose and a dress, selecting the proper jewelry to go with the demure little blue and white floral print dress that I was wearing.

I think I might have been able to stand the dress and the pantyhose and even the black one-inch heels that I quickly learned to balance in, but I was sure then and I'm sure now that I will never learn to like makeup. Jenny found lipstick that matched my nails, and worked like an artist on my eyes. Fortunately at fifteen, I needed only a minimum of foundation, so I was spared feeling too much like a clown.

When she had finished, I looked again in the mirror. The little girl I had feared was only twelve during my first glance in the mirror had disappeared. In her place was a very attractive young woman. From my long brushed hair accented by small pearl earrings to my small, heeled feet, I was someone who was bound to attract attention. I nearly gasped when I saw myself.

"Not bad, huh?" Jenny remarked with a grin.

I didn't know what to say, but I knew what I was thinking: No, not bad at all.

Jenny got ready while I stayed in my new room, familiarizing myself with my new surroundings. She was right, I supposed. It could have been a lot worse. It was better to be her kid sister than a known sex criminal, that was for certain. And it was far better to be her kid sister than to be a stripper down at Girlville like the Swensons. Even though I couldn't remember them, I pitied them - doomed to be strippers and horny sluts for the rest of their lives. Did they know who they had been? I assumed they did. That made it all the worse.

At least I knew Jenny's parents and had always liked them. I was sorry to hear her real sister's death had hurt their relationship so badly. It gave me a little peace of mind to realize that by becoming Meg, I might be helping them.

I looked at myself in the mirror again. Well, if I had to be a girl, it was better to be a cute one. Still, those slender arms and small hands would never catch a pass again. The only passes I was going to catch were the kind I didn't want. Okay, so I wasn't going to be much of an athlete. I had always been a good student, and repeating most of high school meant that I'd know how to ace most of the classes. So I was stuck with brains and beauty. I suppose for a lot of people that wouldn't be much of a punishment.

Wait a minute, I thought. The girls had indicated I was to suffer. Did they have more in mind for me? I'd have to stay alert. But in the mean time, I'd just have to be Meg. If Jenny thought I was knuckling under and being a good kid sister, I might have time to figure out how to keep control of my life. I might be stuck as a girl, but I was going to be one on my terms.

My resolve almost collapsed in church. It was bad enough to present myself as Meg to Jenny's unsuspecting parents, but it was quite another thing to go to church with them and face a number of my old friends. There I was, in the United Methodist Church with my new family, while several of the guys I had known and played football with tried to hide their stares. I told myself at first that they were looking at Jenny, but I knew better. They were looking at both of us.

And it wasn't just the guys who were looking at me. Pam and Karen were sitting together, and when they saw me, they both grinned at me and snickered to themselves. I hoped they choked on it.

After church, "Dad" took us to breakfast. Richard Dawson was a nice guy. I had always liked him. Like my father - my real father - he had played football, but only through college. He had become a CPA after college and now headed his own small firm. He was in his early forties, a little overweight, and starting to get a little thin on top, but his hair was dark brown without a trace of gray. My new mother, Jan Dawson, looked a lot like an older version of Jenny - and presumable me. I supposed if I could look like her at forty, I wouldn't be doing so badly - for a girl. Apparently, my presence had already had an effect. My new parents seemed to be deeply attached to Jenny and me - and to each other. The bitter memories of losing Lynn were gone. Whatever memories they had of Lynn were now attributed to me.

"So what happens now?" I asked Jenny once we had gotten home and were alone again.

"Nothing happens. You just live your life as Meg," Jenny told me with a shrug.

"I don't believe you, Jenny," I said as I put on a pair of jeans while Jenny watched with amusement.

She frowned at me. I began to fear I had crossed the line with her, but there was no going back. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't think your friends are content to just make me your kid sister. They have something else in mind."

She relaxed a little bit. "You're right, they do. They want you to be a slut. If they had had their way, you'd be one of the biggest sluts in the school. We could have done that. You could have been one grade A little sex bunny."

I shuddered at the thought. "But I'm not." Then, worried, I added, "Am I?"

She shook her head. "No, you're just a normal girl with normal sex drives. I made sure of that when you were changed. I've got enough power to do that."

"So where did your power come from?" I asked, slipping on a T-shirt that did little to hide my breasts.

"I told you not to talk about that."

"Oh, come on," I urged. "What would it hurt you to tell me? I'm just curious." It was a true statement. Like most people, I thought magic was something a guy in a tux did on TV. I never expected to find out it was real - particularly in such a dramatic fashion. Besides, the more I knew about what had been done to me, the more I could protect myself from any further magic. I didn't want to find myself yearning for some guy's cock, thanks to another magic spell.

"All right," she said after a moment's hesitation. She sat down on the bed as I finished dressing. "Stacy's boyfriend found a medallion and gave it to her last summer. It turned out to be some sort of magical device."

"How did you figure that out?"

"We had it researched," she explained. "We found it was something the Indians in this area had back before the Spaniards settled here. It apparently gave tribal shamans magical powers. We started experimenting with it."

"So you changed the Swensons into strippers. Is that all it will do?" I asked, sitting next to her. "Does it just change males into females?"

"We don't know yet," Jenny admitted. "It may have other powers, but we haven't figured them out yet."

I kept quiet. Of course it had other powers. It could shift reality. Otherwise, everyone would have known the Swenson boys had disappeared. Just like everyone would know that Dan Korby had disappeared and that Meg Dawson never existed. I didn't want to point that out to Jenny just yet. It was almost as if she wasn't really aware of the significance of the medallion. Why wasn't she? Jenny was a very smart girl - so were her friends for that matter. It was as if their judgment was impaired. I don't know why I realized this when she didn't. Feminine intuition? Yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was because I had been exposed to the process without being one of the wielders of the magic. I'd just have to file that thought away until later. No sense in alerting anyone of my suspicions.

I spent the day studying, interrupted by phone calls from "friends." Most of the friends were kids I knew. After all, our high school wasn't terribly large - just a couple of hundred students in each class. So we knew each other, either from sports or other activities. Some of my new friends were younger siblings of my former classmates. Meg seemed to be a fairly popular girl, judging from the number of phone calls I got. I was starting to wonder if I would get any time to study. Brains and beauty, I told myself. I had to do well in school.

Fortunately, almost every course I seemed to be taking was a course I had taken before as Dan. That meant I didn't have to focus on the concepts. Instead, I could focus on the details, giving myself that little edge that was often the difference between an A and a B. As I studied, it was almost normal again - almost like I was myself. Then, suddenly about three that afternoon, I realized I was missing the Sunday games. The odd thing was that I didn't seem to care. Now, that was quite unlike me.

That was the first inkling I had that something had changed besides my body. If I concentrated hard, I still liked football, just as I had as Dan. But if I didn't think about it, it became unimportant. What else had changed? I hesitated to think. Maybe I should start to write things down.

While going through my desk, I had found a diary. "Meg" had apparently begun the diary at the beginning of the school year. I glance at the first page with its feminine start of "Dear Diary." Gag me with a spoon. I threw the flowery book back into the desk drawer as if it were radioactive. You'd never catch me using a diary. Not me.

But I had to keep track of who I really was and what I really thought, didn't I? There had to be another way, though. No diary for me. Not now - not ever.

So I made it through my first day of girlhood. Maybe it was just the shock of the change, but it didn't seem too terrible. I wondered if prisoners got through their first day in prison the same way. Maybe just the shock of being trapped by prison walls dampened all other feelings. Maybe the shock of my transformation was sufficient to dampen my emotions. After all, shouldn't I be crying and beating my chest (or should it be breasts?)? Somehow, that seemed counterproductive. Besides, it was probably what Jenny and her friends wanted me to do.

Well, maybe not Jenny. While she had not exactly been her old friendly self with me, she had not mistreated me. God knows she had the perfect opportunity to rub it in. She could easily have been taunting, "How does it feel to be a little girl, little girl?" followed by maniacal laughter. She could have forced me to wear something frilly all day if she had put her mind to it, instead of the jeans and T-shirt I had found actually both modest and comfortable. For the most part, she left me alone, just like most big sisters would do, I suspected. After all for the most part, my older brothers had left me alone when I was a boy and I usually left Jake alone.

The real challenge would be the next day, I realized as I got ready for bed. I would have to face all my old friends in the body of a sweet young girl. I had gotten a little taste of it at church, but I knew the next day would be far worse. I couldn't then have imagined how much worse it would be.

"You look great," Jenny said with an evil grin the next morning.

I didn't feel great, though. I hadn't argued when Jenny had helped me pick out an outfit. After all, another T-shirt and overalls seemed a modest outfit for my first day in school as a girl. Silly me. I hadn't realized the overalls would be cut as shorts. "Shortalls" some of the girls called them. This left my smooth, feminine legs exposed. I missed my tanned, muscular legs covered in dark hair. And the T-shirt wasn't the plain one I had worn the day before. Oh, it was still plain, but it was a pastel yellow with lacy trim at the sleeves and neck. And the cut of the overalls didn't disguise my breasts as I had hoped; rather it emphasized them. At least I got to wear tennis shoes, but the lacy tops on the socks were almost too much.

Jenny had helped me again with hair, makeup and accessories, but she had made me do more of it while she critiqued me. Unfortunately, I did too good a job. If I had been male and spotted a girl who looked like me, I would have probably walked into a tree while staring. No, this wasn't going to be a very good day.

Things really went downhill from there. Jenny offered me a ride to school. Stacy was picking her up in a few minutes. I agreed. I didn't really want to face Stacy, but I had even less desire to face a school bus loaded with my classmates. I should have taken the bus.

"Don't you look hot today!" Stacy commented with a nasty little laugh as I climbed in the back seat of her car. Jenny flashed me a look that warned me to be quiet.

"I think your little sister is going to be a heartbreaker," Stacy went on when Jenny had gotten in beside her. "And in another year or so, those pretty little breasts might be even bigger. Then, she'll really stop traffic."

My face was flushed. I knew Stacy was enjoying my embarrassment. She wasn't the only one. When we pulled up in the parking lot at school, Stephanie, Karen and Pam were waiting for us. They were having a grand time watching me bend over to get my books out of the seat.

"Ooh, nice ass, girl," Pam called to me. I took an extra moment fumbling with my books so they couldn't see how red my face was.

"Great outfit, too," Karen called out. "It's very feminine."

They all laughed at that - even Jenny.

"So, do you have a date yet for this Friday?" Stephanie asked as we entered the building and walked toward our classes.

As if on cue, Andy Thompson, a sophomore halfback on the football team, turned from his locker and faced me. "Hi, Meg," he said smoothly. "How about you and me - after the game Friday?"

Something told me his mind had been nudged to ask me out. I had no doubt of it when I heard Karen snicker, followed by the others. "We'll see you later, Meg," she said, and just like that, I was alone with Andy.

As Meg, I had spoken with a couple of guys on the phone Sunday. They had called just to talk, and I had gotten rid of them fairly quickly. At church, I had spoken to a couple of boys after church, but I was with my "family" and could hurry away. This was the first time I had been forced to stand and talk to a guy one on one since my transformation. And I didn't like it.

Why? Well, the main reason was that standing there, talking to Andy, something started stirring inside me. As Dan, I had talked to Andy - and other guys like him - every day. But this was different. He towered over my new form, every part of his body a reminder of what I had lost. He was tall and I wasn't. He had broad shoulders and muscular arms while my shoulders were slender and my arms smooth and feminine. He carried his books in a large paw while I had to clutch mine to my breasts since they were too thick and heavy for my small, graceful hands. He looked strong and confident while I... well, I knew I wasn't strong and I certainly didn't feel confident.

But that wasn't the worst of it, not really. The worst of it was that I found myself strangely drawn to Andy. It was a feeling similar to what I had experienced as Dan when in the presence of a pretty girl - minus of course the start of an erection. But even there, I felt a twitching sensation. The main difference was that I also felt something at the tips of my breasts. Oh dear god, I was getting turned on by... by... a guy!

"What do you say, Meg?"

"Huh?"

Andy sighed. "Friday - after the game. We'll go do something. Okay?"

I should have said no; I knew that. But part of me was... curious for lack of a better word. Besides, I knew Andy as no girl could. We had played football together. He was a good guy. I wouldn't have any problems with him. And if I was stuck as a girl, I was going to have to go out with a guy sometime or everyone would think I was a lesbian or something. Better to go out with somebody like Andy who I knew pretty well than some guy who'd want to paw me all evening.

"Sure," I managed, almost choking on the word.

Andy grinned. "Great. Later then." And he was gone, a happy smile on his face, leaving me to wonder just what the hell I was thinking.

I guess after that the day wasn't too bad. Fortunately, there was a class schedule attached to my notebook, and I knew where all the classes were since I had taken most of them as Dan. The only ones that were new to me were Home Economics and Phys Ed. Home Ec was something most of the girls and even a few of the guys took. My mother had always believed we boys should know how to cook and sew, too, so it wasn't anything I hadn't been exposed to before.

Phys Ed was weird, though. I hadn't had to take it as a guy since I was out for football. It was strange to disrobe in front of a bunch of girls and not have anyone give me a second look. I looked, though, but it didn't do anything for me. Whatever magic had changed me had changed my physical responses to sex as well. Now, my body got all tingly when I saw some guy like Andy, but girls were just... well, girls. Like me. Consciously, of course, it was another issue. I was trying very hard to be attracted to the girls I saw undressing. But as much as my mind wanted to be a normal guy, my body refused to cooperate.

That Phys Ed period was probably the most frustrating hour I had spent since my transformation. As Dan Korby, I had been gifted with natural physical ability. I had strength, speed and coordination that were the envy of even my fellow athletes. Now, though, I felt like a spastic. As we played volleyball - a girl's game in the eyes of most jocks - I realized I was one of the scrubs. I was small, weak, and completely uncoordinated. Oh, I was fairly quick, but when it came my turn to serve, I couldn't even get the ball over the net. And when it was my turn to play at the net, I was being muscled out by girls I would have considered fairly petite when I was Dan. I had lost my athletic ability completely. To make it worse, I felt like crying.

By the end of the day, I was pretty bummed out. Oh, I had done all right, I suppose. At least I hadn't made any big mistakes. As far as everyone was concerned, I was Meg Dawson and always had been. That is, everyone except for Jenny and her friends. As the day went on, I would catch them looking my way, little knowing smiles on their lips. I could hear their smug little giggles when I opened my locker door grazing a boob that stuck out farther than I had expected. They were enjoying every minute of it. I guess it made sense. As far as they were concerned, they had nailed the big dumb jock sex maniac. They had changed him into a sweet little girl for the rest of his - her - life. Now all they had to do was sit back and watch the fun.

"You okay, Meg?" It was Brenda Wright. Although she was a sophomore like I now was, I knew her because she dated Jim Moran, a friend of my brother's. Jim was on the team, so Brenda was often hanging around.

"Just a little tired, I guess," I told her truthfully as we walked out of school together. I would have to endure the bus for my trip home.

"I'm not surprised," she told me in that little chirpy voice of hers. "You must have studied like crazy over the weekend. You blew Ms. Winters away."

Ms. Winters was our biology teacher, and yes, I had blown her away. I had answered every question she had asked me correctly, which I began to realize was not Megan's style. It was true in my other classes, too. Apparently, Megan hadn't gotten off to a real good start in high school. I got the idea I was supposed to be a C student at best. I also got the idea from the attention I got that Megan was majoring in boys. Well move over, world, because a new Megan was on the scene. If Jenny and her friends thought they could turn me into a complete ditz, they had another thought coming.

"Look," Brenda continued, why don't you go to football practice with me?"

"Oh, I don't think so, Brenda." I was reluctant to do so for a couple of reasons. First, I was tired - tired of being seen as a girl and just plain tired. Next, I remember what the guys on the team always said when they saw girls in the stands at practice. "She's just trolling," someone would say, and the rest of us would laugh. Come to think of it, that was how I had ended up in the back seat of a Buick with Vickie Peters. "Besides, I have to catch my bus."

"Oh, come on," she said, playfully tugging my arm. "They've only got about an hour more to practice, and then I'll have Jim drop you off at home. You can use my cell phone to call your mom."

Well, why not? I really wanted to see how some of the guys were doing on the team, and since I couldn't practice with them, I supposed it was the next best thing. Fortunately, I remembered my new phone number and okayed everything with "Mom."

It was a big mistake, just as I had feared. It just made my heart ache to see all my old friends out there on the field together. It should have been me out there, I kept thinking. And the worst of it was when Hank Arnold would catch a pass. He was my backup, so every time he caught the ball, I kept thinking it should have been me. Then, just to add insult to injury, every now and then a few of the guys would look up in the stands and see the girls sitting there watching. I could see the sly little grins on their faces. They thought I was trolling! Assholes!

Of course, there was certainly some trolling going on. Vickie Peters was there, and she seemed to have her eye on Hank. I wondered if I shouldn't tell Hank that he was going to be my backup there, too. Hank had his own car - a little used Toyota. As wild as Vickie could get, I wondered how he was going to have room for her in his back seat.

At last the practice ended. It wasn't a total loss, I suppose. I used the time to get some studying done so I wouldn't have to do it later. It served the extra function of taking my eyes off the guys on the field. To my dismay, I found I was actually watching them not as football players but as good-looking guys. I was starting to have little fantasies that I'd rather not write down here. So I began studying to take my mind off the beefcake on the field.

We met Jim at his car, and Brenda got up on tiptoes and gave him a big kiss. Would that be me someday? Would I ever perch up on my toes to kiss some guy's stubbled cheek? The thought should have made my stomach turn, but for some reason, it didn't.

"We need to take Meg home," Brenda chirped to Jim. I was a little surprised to realize it wasn't a request - it was an order. Here was Jim Moran, a big solid football player taking orders from a little wisp like Brenda. Yet he didn't seem to mind.

"No prob, babe," Jim grinned. "I gotta drop Jake off, and he doesn't live too far from Meg."

Jake? Not my brother Jake! But my brother was the only Jake on the team. I practically ran when I heard Jake's voice call, "Hi, Brenda. Hi, Meg."

I turned to face Jake. Instinctively, I looked down since as Dan I had always been taller than Jake. Unfortunately, looking down made it appear now as if I were focussing on his crotch. I quickly looked up at the grinning face of the boy who had once been my brother. Like all the Korby boys, Jake was a good-looking guy. I had known that as his brother. Now, though, I was seeing him in a different light. What I saw was a big strong fellow - a little less than a man but much more than a boy. I stifled an unexpected gasp.

Jake even held the car door open for me. Then, he got in next to me. There was no contact between us, although his arm was draped across the car seat just above my shoulders. Mostly, he talked with Jim about practice. He did nothing and said nothing on the way home that could be interpreted as a move, but I felt uncomfortable nonetheless. It wasn't until they had dropped me off that I began to realize that deep down I wanted him to make a move.

That brings me to why I started writing this diary. I realized I would need to if I wanted to keep control of myself. I need a record I can refer to which will remind me who I really am. I'll try to keep filing it out regularly. Now, that doesn't mean daily, but I'll try to make it a cohesive chronicle. I've been Megan almost a week now, and every day I find I'm losing a little piece of Dan. It probably started the minute I looked at myself in the mirror, but I didn't really notice it then.

I notice it now, though. Every morning that I get up, I do things like quickly sliding earrings into the holes in my ears or shaving my legs and under my arms without so much as a second thought. Yesterday, I even decided to wear a skirt and dark tights to school because I thought it would look "cute." I was dressed before I realized how unlike Dan that was. I also couldn't seem to get the thought out of my mind that the boys would like my legs. I even caught a couple gazing at them in school yesterday and didn't get all embarrassed. Instead, I kind of liked it.

Damn! I had to stop writing there for a minute because I started crying. That seems to happen a lot, too.

I've tried to hide a lot of this from Jenny. I think it's because I'm afraid this is exactly what she and her friends wanted to happen. The last thing I want to do is give all of them the satisfaction of knowing that I'm trying to fight off this unwanted attraction to boys.

Oh, I still talk to Jenny. She's given me a lot of tips on clothes, makeup and jewelry. Without her help, I'd probably be a fashion nightmare. In fact, I suppose our relationship is developing into a big sister-kid sister relationship not unlike hundreds of thousands around the world. It's hard though, because once we had a different relationship. Now, I'm her little sister.

It amazes me how "normal" all of this has become. I suppose it was to be expected. After all, if I'm constantly treated as if I had always been Megan, eventually I have no choice but to act that way. But I must never forget that underneath the surface, I'm someone else. I may look like Megan Dawson, but I'm really Dan Korby. I must never forget that.

Saturday, 26 October, 1996

I'm so pissed as I write this I can barely see straight. I waited up for Jenny last night so I could confront her. Then, I remembered she said something about spending the night at Stephanie's. I fought back the impulse to call her there, but then I realized some of her other partners in magical mayhem were probably there, too. They would have laughed their asses off at my discomfort. There was no sense in giving them something to laugh about. So I flopped into bed and managed to drift off to sleep after a while, stilled pissed.

My "parents" asked what was wrong at breakfast, but all I would tell them is that Andy and I had had an argument and I was still mad at him. They didn't press. They had already watched one daughter go through the ups and downs of relationships with boys, so they knew when not to press. It was just as well. I didn't want to tell them what had happened anyway.

The ironic thing is that the day before had begun as the best day since my transformation. It was a little cool that day, and Jenny had suggested I wear a pair of jeans and a silky white turtleneck and carry a dark blue sweater that I could slip on at the game. It turned out to be the kind of outfit that suited me well. My formerly masculine mind didn't see it as being particularly feminine, even with the little gold necklace I was wearing, and yet all the other girls complimented me on how good it looked.

Then in classes, my reputation as a good student was enhanced when I got back a couple of quizzes with not just good grades but the highest grades in the class. Even my teachers were starting to realize that my sudden interest in classes at the first of the week wasn't just a fluke. In fact, Mr. Mackenzie in California History even held me back after class just to tell me how proud he was of me.

"I suspected you had the ability, Megan," he told me with a smile, "but you just never seemed very interested in this subject before. If you keep this up, I'll even throw out that poor score you got on the first quiz."

So I certainly had reason to be happy yesterday. The only other milestone the day still held out for me was my very first date - well, my first date as Megan. And I was even looking forward to that. After all, I had known Andy for a long time. I had no reason to expect him to be anything other than the Andy I had always known.

Boy, was I wrong.

It started well enough. We won our game last night, and when Andy met me outside the locker room, we were both in a good mood. Yep, it was the same old Andy. We talked about the game as we walked to his car. Andy was even pleased to find that I had a good grasp of his contributions to the game. He even complimented me on understanding more about football than most girls. Although he meant it as a compliment, it bothered me. For a few minutes, it had just been like old times with my friend Andy. Now, I realized, I was different, and when I expressed an opinion on a male subject like football, my knowledge would be respected as keen - for a girl.

Once in his car, things fell apart fast. I had expected him to take me to one of the after-game parties. There were always a couple of sponsored parties and a couple of parties at students' houses. There we could talk and laugh with our friends, celebrating the victory. My good humor evaporated though as I realized Andy was driving out of town.

"Uh... where are we going, Andy?" I asked nervously as the lights of town receded.

"Not far," he replied vaguely. "There's something I want you to see."

The something was a little overlook by the river. Or maybe that wasn't the only "something" he wanted me to see. He turned off the car and groped for me in one smooth motion.

"Andy!" I practically screamed. "What's wrong with you?"

He looked confused in the darkness. "Me? What's wrong with you?"

This wasn't going where I wanted it to go. "I think you'd better take me home," I said primly.

"Meg, what the hell is wrong with you?" he boomed, causing me to jump.

"I...I..." It was impossible for me to explain it to him.

I half expected him to jump me anyway. Instead, he leaned back in his seat and mumbled, "After last Friday, I thought we had a good thing going. I guess you're just like Vickie Peters, trying to make the whole team and tonight isn't my turn."

Now it was my turn to be confused. I had seen Andy at the party I had attended with Allison last Friday - where this whole mess had gotten started. He was with April Turlow that night. But of course, Megan Dawson had not really existed then, no matter what he thought. But apparently the magic had changed the past - or more likely, memories of the past. So just what did Andy think he had done with Megan last Friday night? Whatever it was, it must have been something to rate the secluded spot I had suddenly found myself in.

So was Megan like Vickie Peters? Was that what everyone remembered? I was starting to get the feeling that Megan Dawson was something of a bad girl. My reputation would be confirmed I was sure by disappearing with Andy, no matter what really happened.

And nothing was going to happen - I was pretty sure of that. Why only "pretty sure" and not "completely sure?" Well, because to be completely honest, something deep inside me wanted it to happen. There was a part of my new being that wanted Andy to ignore my protests and... And what? Go all the way? It might not be the first time for Megan, I realized grimly. Although I had resisted the temptation to sexually experiment with myself so far, I suspected Megan was no virgin. Just what had Jenny and her friends done to me? Wasn't it bad enough that they had turned me into a fifteen year old girl? Did they want to make me a slut as well?

The rest of the evening wasn't very pleasant. Andy did take me home, dropping me off with the minimum of verbal courtesies. I couldn't really blame him, I guess. I still remember what it's like to have a hard-on in your pants. If I were still Dan and had every reason to suspect that the girl in the car with me was going to do something about that hard-on, I'd be pissed, too. But like Andy, I'd have taken the girl home, just as he took me home. I'm no sexual criminal no matter what people remember - or used to remember.

So here I am, Saturday morning, and if Jenny doesn't get home soon, I'm probably going to explode. And what really pisses me off more than anything else is that I still have this little gnawing curiosity about what it would have felt like if I had let Andy have his way.

Sunday, 27 October, 1996

So okay, I've calmed down a little today. Jenny and I didn't see much of each other on Saturday, and when we did, we weren't alone. She could tell I was annoyed, though. Of course, that probably made her all the more certain to avoid me. I tried to talk to her when she came in from a date last night, but she protested she was too tired. Besides, Mom was still up and hovering around her until bedtime, so I didn't get a chance to confront her.

I finally got her alone when we got back from church. I was pissed all over again since I saw a couple of guys I knew to be friends of Andy's giving me knowing looks. I guess they figured Andy had scored, and they were just admiring the trophy. Then there were the girls. The ones like Jenny who had managed to keep their so-called virtue looked at me as if I belonged over at Girlville.

"Just what's going on, Jenny?" I asked, storming into her room after her. Our parents had dropped us off, then joined some friends for brunch.

"What are you talking about?" she asked calmly as she stripped out of her church dress in favor of something more casual. I tried to keep my train of thought and not think about Jenny's large breasts. Now, don't get me wrong. I wasn't interested in them that way. I just couldn't help wondering if mine would get that large.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

She turned to face me, coming close enough that I was suddenly made aware that she was now at least two inches taller than me. "No, I don't, and if you want this conversation to continue, you'll calm down right now and tell me what you're talking about, little sister."

The "little sister" made me even angrier, but I was intimidated. Jenny was now bigger than me, and with her friends, she could do even worse things to me. I managed to calm down and tell her, "I'm talking about what you made of me. I mean, it's bad enough I have to be a girl, but did you have to try to turn me into a stupid slut as well?"

"We didn't turn you into a stupid slut," she protested. "If you want to be a slut, that's your business. As for the stupid part, you don't seem stupid to me."

"No, I'm not stupid," I admitted, "but it seems as if everyone remembers me as a poor student. As for the slut part, I..."

My voice trailed off. How was I going to explain this to Jenny? Was I going to tell her that every time I looked at a guy, I was starting to wonder what he had in his pants? Was I going to tell her that it was taking all my willpower just to resist? Was I going to tell her that last night, I had this dream in which I was being screwed by Andy... and loving every minute of it? Was I going to tell her that on that very morning, I had actually started stimulating myself in the shower?

Jenny took advantage of my lapse. "Look, Meg, it's just possible that the same sexual impulses that caused you to attack Allison are still in you as Megan. You may have just as high a libido as you did as a male. If that's the case, it serves you right. My only advice to you is that you'd better use some protection. You're only fifteen and you know how our parents feel about abortion."

If we had both been male, I would have slugged Jenny for that. What am I saying? If we were both male, we wouldn't have been having that conversation at all. I suppose I could have slapped her, but that particular impulse was too alien to me. Instead, my body took over. I burst into tears. I was furious, but I was too impotent to do anything about it. I fled from the room, trying without success to control the tidal wave of tears that wracked my body. I threw myself on my bed, hating myself for realizing I would probably get mascara all over my pillow.

It was only a couple of minutes until I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Meg?"

It was Jenny. Part of me wanted to scream at her to get out of my room and never come back, but her hand was comforting. "What?" I mumbled into my pillow.

"Look, I know this is hard for you," she began. "I'm not going to say you don't deserve it, but I'm still willing to help you - for the sake of what's left of our friendship. Besides, as far as everyone is concerned, you're my sister."

And I need help desperately. This being a girl has just been too much for me. Sometimes, it seems almost normal. If I ignore the tickle of long hair and the weight of the breasts and the mile-wide hips that cause me to walk funny, it almost seems normal. But I can't ignore them often. Then there are the boys. I keep trying to avoid looking at them "that way," but I can't. I've tried looking at girls as I did when I was Dan, but it doesn't work. Sure, I still think they're cute, but that isn't enough to set the sexual wheels in motion. Of course, I've got nothing to get hard any more. Now a good-looking guy on the other hand... well, that's another story.

In short, I've become a ball of raging emotions. One moment, I'm adjusting to this new identity - and new sex. Then the next minute, I feel like killing myself rather than face girlhood for another second. I hope none of my classmates have noticed, but I'm sure they have. Most of the girls seem sympathetic enough - except of course for Jenny's little group. As for most of the guys... well, I'm sure they just think it's female problems. Yeah guys, it's female problems all right, but not the kind you think.

At its worst, I start really feeling sorry for myself. After all, whatever caused me to attack Allison like that wasn't me, any more than Meg Dawson is me. But according to Jenny - and I don't think she's lying about this - even if I could convince her of my innocence, it wouldn't matter. There's something about the magic that prevents them from turning me back into Dan or any other male for that matter.

So to net it out, I need help in a big way. Jenny's offer of help was a lifesaver. Impulsively, I sat up and hugged her, still sobbing. If you ever get a chance to read this, thanks, Jenny. I know right now as I write this that I can't get through this without you.

Saturday, 30 November, 1996

Has it really been a little over a month since I've written anything down? It's hard to believe. I guess it's because I've been very busy. Oh, I've looked over at this little book dozens of times, but I always think I'll write something later. Then later never comes. I think the only reason I picked it up to write something today is that I'm home alone and my teachers were good enough not to give us grossly long assignments over the Thanksgiving weekend, so I'm not up to my eyeballs in schoolwork.

Actually though, schoolwork has been my salvation, along with Jenny. I've found when I throw myself into my studies, I forget about all my other problems. I've developed quite a reputation as a good student. As Dan, I made good grades my sophomore year, but I'm doing even better this time around. History is my best subject, and even my worst critics (usually catty girls) have decided the A's I'm getting from Mr. Mackenzie aren't the result of giving him blow jobs after class - as if I would.

Jenny has been even a bigger help than I would have imagined. The animosity she showed toward me back when she helped change me is mostly gone. She still won't discuss my professed innocence with me, nor am I allowed to discuss her magical activities, but as long as we avoid those subjects, we get along fine. I've never had a big sister before, but as Dan, I had two older brothers. The relationship with Jenny seems even closer than the one with my brothers. I'm starting to think men are basically independent. They try to go it alone whenever they can. Oh sure, they play team sports and cooperate with each other, but essentially, they have to do it themselves. An example? Well, there's always the old jokes about men never stopping for directions.

Women, on the other hand, seem more inclined to work together. They tell little secrets to each other and bare their souls at the drop of a hat. Jenny started to confide in me, and somehow, that helped me to deal with my newfound femininity. For example, when I had my first period, I was in a dark, dark mood. My emotions seemed even worse than they were right after my transformation, and the discomfort I felt that first day was enough to confine me to my bed that evening. Jenny helped me along, explaining what she went through with hers. She even helped me with my very first tampon. I couldn't imagine one of my older brothers doing anything for Dan which might be an equivalent. Of course, come to think of it, I can't think of anything men do that is equivalent to that anyway.

I don't really like to admit it, but having my first period was something of a watershed for me. Before that incident, I still thought of myself as Dan Korby, doomed forever to live in the prison of a woman's body. Now, I'm not going to say that I wouldn't change back to Dan in a heartbeat if I could. I would give a lot to be a guy again. But having a period was virtually a confirmation of my new sex. Somewhere, I read something that is almost a clich^Â. It involves a woman helping her little girl through her first period by saying, "Today, dear, you are a woman." It always sounded hokey until it happened to me. Now I understand what that statement really means.

And speaking of being a woman, I've actually taken a few baby steps toward dating. I know. When I look back at my last entry, it looks as if I'm frightened to death of boys - or at least how I might come to view boys as a girl. Well, in a way, nothing has changed and everything has changed.

With Jenny's help, I've managed to control some of my sexual impulses. I've come to realize that the warm tingly feeling I get now when I see a good looking guy is really no worse that the little hard-on I used to get as a guy looking at a good looking girl. I can control it. If for no other reason, I'll control it because I think some of Jenny's friends want to see me lose it - especially Karen and Pam. They seem to hang together a lot, and both still delight in teasing me about being a girl. I have to admit, they still annoy me, too.

But as for dating, I've had a couple of dates. Well, actually, it's been more than a couple. I've tried to make them very innocent dates, though. What I mean is the kind of date where there are several couples in a group, or going to a movie, preferably with another couple. It's easy to avoid compromising situations with dates like those. I've also made it a rule to think twice before dating anyone on the football team. After all, thanks to clowns like Andy, I suspect many of the players might get the wrong idea about me.

Of course rules are made to be broken. I do have one date coming up with a football player, and I'm anxious to see how it goes. It's with my brother - well, my former brother - Jake. He approached me just before Thanksgiving, catching me completely by surprise. In the simple, direct manner my brother had always operated, he leaned against the locker next to mine as I was extracting books for my afternoon classes.

"Hey, Meg." He had that boyish grin I think he must have been born with.

"Hey, Jake." I gave him a little smile. We had become casual friends over the last month. I admit I cultivated the friendship, primarily so I could keep up on the doings of my old family. Although the Dawsons were nice and had treated me well, I missed my old family very much.

"You know, the Winter Formal is coming up in a couple of weeks..."

Uh-oh, I thought. Yes, I knew the Winter Formal was coming up. I fully intended to avoid it. While I had pretty much gotten the hang of being a girl day to day, I had avoided the fancy stuff. I seldom wore skirts to school, and on Sundays, I got out of them as soon as church was over. Actually, I wasn't all that unique. I noted a lot of girls spent little time in skirts. In any case, I had no intention of getting a fancy hairdo, a slinky dress, and strappy heels to be seen on the arm of some guy at the Winter Formal.

That is until Jake asked me.

As time had gone by, I had tried to tell myself that Jake was no longer my brother. He was now just a friend. Any genetics test would show we weren't related, I was sure. But I had known Jake literally since the day he had been born. As the last two brothers at home, he and I had gotten very close. The thought of dating him, particularly going with him to something as important as the Winter Formal... well, it just didn't seem right.

On the other hand, I knew how Jake handled himself on dates. He had always been a gentleman. I knew I would be safe with him. Also, I knew he was a little shy around girls. I was sure he had no Plan B if I turned him down. In fact, I realized much to my dismay, the last couple of weeks or so, he had been hanging around me quite a bit. It had apparently taken him this long to work up the courage to ask me. So how could I turn him down?

"...and I was wondering if you'd like to go with me."

There it was. He got it all out. Was there any excuse I could use to avoid the date - any excuse that wouldn't devastate him? I couldn't think of a one. I knew I'd hate every minute of the evening, but I needed to do it for Jake.

"Uh... sure, Jake, I'd like that," I lied. It was worth it though to see the happy, relieved look on his face.

Oops, that's all I have time to write about now. My Mom and Jenny are calling me. They want to shop for dresses for Jenny and me for the Winter Formal. I'm really not looking forward to this. I've found previous excursions to the mall as a girl to be pretty tedious. And Jenny is enjoying this entirely too much.

Sunday, 1 December, 1996

I've been a girl now for a little over a month, but I never really realized what a pain in the butt it would really be until yesterday. I'm referring, of course to shopping.

I know the stereotype is that all women love to shop and all men hate it. I know for a fact from my previous family that that isn't always the case. My former older brother, Allen, could spend all day in a mall and not buy as much as a T-shirt. My real mother, on the other hand, was an in-and-out shopper, deciding in advance exactly what she wanted and finding it with the skill and precision of a combat team on a search and destroy mission.

As Megan, I had developed a few friends, but I had the reputation of being something of a loner. I had, however, accompanied some of the girls in my class on a foray into Rio Del Diablo Mall a couple of weeks after my transformation. Unfortunately, they were stereotypical, spending the entire afternoon either trying on clothes and telling each other how cute they looked or trolling for boys. I couldn't wait to get away. I had managed to avoid the mall ever since. My new mother would just shake her head and mutter that I was an "unnatural girl." If only she knew the truth.

But yesterday, there was no escape. Mom was determined to buy her girls new dresses for the Winter Formal.

"I told her I had a perfectly good dress for the formal," I complained to Jenny earlier. "There's nothing wrong with that Navy blue one of mine."

Jenny, sitting on my bed as I complained, frowned. "The one you wore to church last week?"

I nodded.

She gave me one of her patented sighs. "Meg, you've still got a lot to learn. This is a formal - not an afternoon tea. You need a new dress."

"You're just afraid if I find something to wear in my closet, Mom won't let you get a new dress for the formal," I accused, but I did it with a little smile. I had really come to think of Jenny as a sister, in spite of her role in my transformation and sisters were for teasing.

"Maybe," she admitted. Then, with a wicked smile of her own, she added, "But a girl can always use a new dress."

I honestly didn't see how. There were outfits in my closet I had never worn yet. It seemed to me that girls always had ten times the clothes they actually needed. Then I silently remembered the time about a week earlier when I was practically in tears because I couldn't find a blouse to go with the cute little vest that I had chosen to wear to school.

So there I was, with my new mother and new sister, trying on dresses for the big night. Short and slinky seemed to be the order of the day, and as I tried in vain to find something a little more demure, Jenny had made it her devilish duty to find the skimpiest, sexiest dress Mom would possibly allow - for me, that is.

"I don't know," Mom mumbled critically as I modeled a satiny little blue dress. It had spaghetti straps that left my shoulders practically bare and exposed a substantial amount of my growing cleavage. To make it worse, I had worn the wrong kind of bra which would have shown under the dress. So to make it look right, I was not even wearing a bra now. I felt as if it had been painted over my ass and allowed to drip only a little way down my leg. The clerk had loaned me a pair of heeled sandals to see how it would look. I felt as if I was wearing nothing at all.

I guess I wasn't embarrassed enough, standing there in front of the mirror, for who should wander by but Karen and Pam.

"Ooh, Meg, that looks fantastic on you!" Karen commented with mock enthusiasm.

"Absolutely!" Pam chimed in. "I wish I had seen it first."

Jenny just sat there, stifling a laugh.

"I don't know..." Mom said. "It seems so... well, revealing."

"Oh, all the girls will be wearing stuff like this," Karen told her with a syrupy smile. "This dress is way cool, Mrs. Dawson."

"Well... do you like it, Meg?" my mother finally asked.

If Karen and Pam had not come up when they did, I would have probably said no. But I didn't want them to have any reason to stick around, and I knew if I refused that dress, they would just spend the afternoon watching me try on many more, steering me to even more revealing dresses.

"Yes... it's nice," I managed. "I want this one."

I had figured right. As far as Pam and Karen were concerned, the entertainment was over. I hoped that I really spoiled their fun. Of course, now I was stuck with a dress the size of a silk handkerchief. I just hoped the night of the formal I could come up with enough courage to wear it. Maybe I'd wear a coat over it all evening.

I thought that would be it, but my new mom was a shopper in the classic sense. Once Jenny and I had picked out our dresses, the rest of the afternoon was spent trying on shoes to go with it, picking out a new purse too small to put much of anything in, matching necklaces, bracelets and earrings, and setting up appointments for Jenny and me to have our hair done the afternoon of the formal. I was glad Karen and Pam hadn't bothered to follow us. They would have gotten a real charge out of watching me get dragged from one feminine activity to another.

I have a feeling my new girlhood is going to get cranked up to a new level next Friday. I'm not looking forward to it.

Saturday, 7 December, 1996

I got up early this morning to write all of this down while it's still fresh in my mind. Yesterday was one of the strangest days of my life - old or new. It started out normally enough, with school and all, but about the time I had my hair done by a hairdresser for the very first time, my fear level shot through the roof. I was actually going to have to wear that little postage stamp of a dress I had selected. I was actually going to have to perch on sandals with the highest heel I had ever worn and do it with grace and balance. I was actually going to go out on a date with my own brother - or rather my former brother. And if I had known then what the night would bring, I would have been even more frightened.

It took me two hours to get ready - three if I included my time at the hairdresser. She had taken my hair and coiffured it in such a way that it swept up off my neck to the top of my head. It felt odd to feel no hair down my neck and over my ears and shoulders for the first time since my transformation. The weight of the hair was also odd, piled up as it was. Still, I had to admit it looked very attractive, exposing my small ears and framing my face in a sophisticated fashion. I was almost pleased Mom had insisted I have my hair done after all.

Mom had also suggested a nice warm bath. Now, I've been a shower person forever, and a change of sex wasn't enough to change that. But I do admit, the bath was relaxing. As I lay back in the warm scented water, I thought of how shocked Jake would be if he had any inkling that he was about to have a date with his own brother. Of course, if I had told him, he would have thought I was completely crazy. After all, he had never even heard of Dan Korby. Nobody had - except me and Jenny's little group.

In some ways, I considered that more shocking than my transformation. I mean, how could five girls playing at magic find a way to reform not only my body but the reality around it? Jenny still refused to talk about it, in spite of the fact that we had become closer as I began to conform to my new identity. Still, whenever I would broach the subject, she would deflect my questions or refuse to answer them outright.

I also wondered if the girls had changed my mental state as well as my physical identity. They had certainly done so with the Swensons. I actually saw them a couple of weeks ago. Jenny even pointed them out. Both were dressed in very slutty outfits as they strolled down the street, and both seemed perfectly comfortable being sluts. Surely there could be no doubt that they were forced to act in that manner.

And yet I had noticed no great change in my own persona. Sure, I accepted being a girl. What else could I do? And if I had stayed in my room crying, Jenny's friends would have had a field day at my misery. Yet I had been careful not to act too feminine. I had done as I had sworn to do, throwing myself into my schoolwork until I was one of the top students in my class. I didn't hang out at the mall with the other girls. I didn't gush in front of handsome boys. I didn't spend endless hours in banal phone conversations. I had even improved my performance in Phys Ed, becoming a fairly accomplished volleyball player. I'm sure at least Karen and Pam are disappointed. I single them out because Stacy and Stephanie have been pretty decent to me lately, unlike Karen and Pam.

"Are you going to soak all night?" Jenny called out from behind the door, breaking my reverie. "You know, I need to get ready, too."

"You are ready," I told her, pulling myself out of the tub though. Jenny had started getting ready when she got home from school. She had been dating Tad Delong, one of the brighter guys in her class. I remembered Tad but hadn't known him well when I was Dan. He seemed like a decent guy, but I knew Jenny saw him more as a friend than anything else. Still, she had made herself absolutely gorgeous for him.

"I have to put a few finishing touches on my makeup," she explained. "I'll help you with yours if you hurry."

"I know how to put on makeup," I protested, surprised to find I was actually proud of that.

"Not for a formal."

I frowned, wrapping a towel around myself. "There's a difference?"

"Oh yes, little sister," Jenny laughed as she came in the room.

I studied her face and saw what she meant. Her makeup was much more artful than usual. It remained subtle but seemed more dramatic. She looked more mature - not older, just more mature. I wondered what the effect would be on me.

I found out. Once I was in my panties and bra, Jenny worked on me. The result practically took my breath away once I was completely dressed. Standing there in front of the mirror in that short blue dress, I thought I looked very little like the young girl who had tried it on less than a week before. Then, the dress had looked all wrong. I had only gotten it to quiet Pam and Karen, but I had been worried about how it would look on me ever since. However, now it looked wonderful. I didn't appear to be fifteen at all. Instead, I was a young woman, graceful and sophisticated, standing there in my heeled sandals. My breasts were pert and a little cleavage was showing. My legs literally shimmered in the sheer dark nylons I wore. I was going to blow Jake away.

And I did, too. Jenny had already left when I got downstairs, but Mom and Dad ambushed me from the den, telling me how wonderful I looked. Dad was even preparing his camera to take pictures of me and Jake. I had to smile. I was actually starting to think of them as my parents. Jake showed up as my parents were admiring me, and I almost giggled when I saw his mouth drop open. I think he thought he had asked an ugly duckling to the formal and gotten a swan instead.

Well, that's not really true, I suppose. Jake and I had been friends for weeks now. It's just that when we'd talk football or something, he'd treat me like one of the guys. I had liked that about him. I hadn't wanted a high school romance, and Jake didn't seem to want that either. We were just friends, that's all.

When I started this passage, I said the evening was frightening. I don't know why I said that, other than the fact that as the evening went on, Jake changed from just a friend - and my former brother - to something else. I found myself at first surprised and later pleased to have doors opened for me and an arm around my waist when we walked. I began to enjoy the opportunity to get out on the dance floor with him for the slower numbers since it gave me the opportunity to be held in his arms. And when he gently kissed me as we danced, I wanted him to do more - much more.

And he did. There, overlooking the river in the Buick I had myself driven when I was male, Jake took me. I felt for the first time in my new life the wonderful feeling of being entered by a man. He was gentle - more gentle than I could have imagined, and I wanted him to do it again and again.

Does this mean I'm falling for him?

Saturday, 14 December, 1996

I've been so busy this last week that I haven't had a chance to write anything down, so I just read the entry I supposedly made in this book last Saturday morning. As I did, a chill went down my back. It isn't what I wrote last Saturday - not at all. I told a much different story that morning. But it's changed; all of it has changed. I'd need to tell that part of my story again, but the frightening thing is that I know it could easily change again. Reality is much more malleable than I had ever imagined.

Actually, part of the entry is true if I have to be completely honest about it. I really have gotten used to this new form in ways I could never imagine when I began this diary. I really was amazed at how good I turned out for the formal, and I really did have a good time with Jake. And yes, he did kiss me, but only at my front door at the end of the evening and he most certainly did not make love to me.

I was having a great time with Jake. And no, I wasn't being a fragile little flower with him. Okay, so he held the door open for me a couple of times. That didn't mean I planned to marry him. And okay, dancing with him was fun, but I wasn't exactly melting in his arms. Falling for him? Screwing him in my former father's Buick? Give me a break. This is Jake I'm talking about, okay?

What made the evening frightening was something that I never expected, and it took me back to the time just before my transformation. It was something that is certainly not included in that disturbing diary entry that I obviously never wrote.

Jake and I were dancing. It was something slow and romantic, the kind of stuff that's always played late in the evening at formals. A few couples - particularly the ones like Vickie Peters and her date - had left, presumably to find a little privacy to get more intimate. So we had no trouble hearing the scream.

One moment, we were standing there in shock, unsure of what was happening. The next moment, I was chasing after Jake, cursing the tight dress and high heels I wore that allowed Jake to bolt so far ahead of me. When I reached him, he was pulling someone up off the ground outside the building. Although it was hard to see who it was with the small crowd that was starting to build around him, it was obvious from the look on Jake's face that he was shocked. Then, we all gave a collective gasp as we saw Jake pull Ray Olson to his feet.

The screaming had turned to whimpering, and I made my way through the crowd in time to help Stacy Palmer lift a crying Susan Iwata to her feet. "I...I'm okay," she managed to gasp. "Look out for Des."

We didn't have to look far. Stacy's date had Desmond Young on his feet. Des was rubbing his jaw and looking about for Susan. When he spotted her, he stumbled into her arms and her crying began all over again.

"Wha... what's going on?" That was from Ray Olson. Ray looked disheveled and confused. I gasped and turned away when I saw his limp penis hanging out of his pants. I couldn't help but note to myself that it was the first penis I had seen since my transformation. This entire incident was bringing up some very unpleasant memories.

"He...he attacked us," Susan said, pointed in fear at Ray. "He said something about whites shouldn't be dating Japs. Then he hit Des. I was afraid he had killed him. Then, he threw me to the ground and started to rip off my clothes." As evidence, she pointed to the torn shoulder strap of her dress. The front of her dress had torn too, and it was all she could do to hold Des and keep her breasts covered at the same time.

"You no good son of a bitch," Jake muttered. I wondered what he would have thought if he had known that his own brother was in a similar mess only a few weeks before.

"But, Jake, I didn't do anything," Ray managed to say. The look in his eyes was one of fear and confusion. "At least I don't think I did..." he added quietly.

I had known Ray for many years. We had been classmates. I had never known him to be prejudiced in any way. This was a replay of what had happened to me. True, the circumstances were a little different, but just as I had attacked Allison with no memory of the event, Ray had apparently hit Des and attempted to sexually assault Susan.

As I helped get Susan inside and away from prying eyes, I began to realize the similarity had to be more than just a coincidence. I had assumed since the incident I had been involved in that something had snapped inside me. Maybe it was a tumor or some mental condition I could only guess at. In any case, so many others had witnessed the event and reinforced the horror of what I had done that I could only passively accept the punishment that was meted out to me. At the time, as personally degrading as I had found it to be turned into a fifteen year old girl, it seemed to actually be better than the alternative of a trial, prison, and a disgraced life.

Now I wasn't so sure. Something was going on that I had never imagined before. Ray seemed as confused as I had been, and completely as unlikely to do what to all reasonable evidence he had done. I looked around, hoping to catch the reaction of Jenny and her friends. Except for Stacy who had helped me with Susan, none of them were anywhere to be seen, but the look on Stacy's face was one of shock and disgust. I didn't think she was a good enough actress to fake her reaction.

Jake took me home. If there was ever a magic evening as described in the altered entry preceding this one, it was lost in the horror of that evening attack. Jake did hold me close as we walked to the car and again as he walked me to my door. I think he thought I was frightened. Well, I suppose I was, but I was also confused and angry. I was confused as to why someone had done this terrible thing first to me and then to Ray. Someone had caused us to do something terrible to innocent young women and caused Ray to viciously attack Des. I was certain from what I had seen and what Jake had told me Ray had said before the police arrived that Ray had no idea what he had done - any more than I had. And I was angry - angry that someone or something had hurt so many people.

Jenny and her friends were of course the prime suspects. If they had the ability to transform men into women, couldn't they also cause Ray and me to attack someone and then forget about it?

"You seem very thoughtful tonight," Jake commented as we stopped at my door.

Of course I couldn't tell Jake about it but I wished I could. I needed someone I could trust to help me figure out what was going on. "I'm sorry," I told him honestly, for if the truth be told, I had had a good time with him before Ray's attack. Then I surprised myself by saying, "I'll make it up to you."

"I'd like that," he said with a smile. Then, he leaned over and kissed me. To my shock, I kissed back. It didn't feel queer as I had feared. Instead it felt very natural. My new body began to react to his touch, and it took all the restraint I could muster to gently push him away. As I was sure he would, Jake just smiled and said goodnight.

As I just wrote this, I had an uncomfortable thought. The entry that I didn't write - could that have really happened if Ray's attack on Des and Susan hadn't occurred? Would I have really ended up making love to my former brother? I didn't think so, but I really didn't know. Have I really become that much of a girl? Oh God, I hope not.

Alone in my room, I tried to piece together what was going on. It had started with the Swensons according to Jenny. They had committed a rape and been changed into strippers for it. What was their connection to Ray or me? Nothing I could think of. I didn't remember them, but of course, that could be part of the magic. Ray and I had many connections though. When I was a guy, he and I had played football together for years and we had been friends. We had partied a bit together. He was with me when some of us went across the border to TJ, and he and I had been two of the guys drinking at the line shack right before the beginning of our senior year. Since my transformation, we hadn't spoken much. Ray was a typical jock and I was just the kid sister of one of his classmates.

But Ray didn't remember doing what he had obviously done that night, just as I hadn't remembered what I had done to Allison. Up until now, I had thought myself the victim of some physical or mental disorder. Jenny and her friends had refused to listen to excuses and had transformed me into the young girl I now was. I had accepted it and tried to make the best of it. But what if there was another reason for my actions? What if I had been compelled to do what I did to Allison just to give them an excuse to unman me? What if they had done the same to Ray and the Swensons?

I just couldn't imagine Jenny being a part of some plot to unjustly change guys into girls. It wasn't her style. For the most part, it wasn't the style of any of her friends either, except maybe for Pam and Karen. Pam had always had a vindictive streak, and Karen, although I didn't know her well, seemed much like Pam. Stacy was a lot like Jenny and Stephanie pretty much went with the flow. That meant Pam or Karen might be behind this.

But what exactly was it they were doing? Jenny called it magic. What else could it be? Of course, a less complimentary term for what they were performing was witchcraft, but I couldn't see Jenny getting involved in demonic arts. She was just not the type to get involved with witchcraft.

She had come home later than me, so I stayed up to talk with her. She didn't seem surprised to see me sitting on her bed in the dark, still in the outfit I had worn to the formal. She sat down next to me without turning on the light.

"Did you want to talk about something, Meg?" she asked me, playing the big sister.

"I want to talk about Ray," I told her firmly.

"There's nothing to talk about then," Jenny said, standing up and slipping off her dress. "The decision has already been made."

"Without a trial?" I asked. "You're going to do the same thing to him you did to me, aren't you?"

"Meg, this is none of your business," she said sharply.

"Why?" I pressed. "Because I'm not really a girl? Because I'm as bad as Ray or the Swenson twins?"

"Meg, quiet! You'll wake up Mom and Dad."

I lowered my voice. Waking them up wouldn't help matters. "Jenny, what's going on? You know this isn't right."

"Ray is a bully, a bigot, and a would-be rapist," she said firmly. "He's going to be punished and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

I realized she was right, as hard as that was for me to accept - there was nothing I could do. If I went to Jenny's little cabal, I might find my life made very unpleasant. Jenny had already told me they could easily change me into another girl. If I argued Ray's case before them... well, I didn't even like to think about it. And who else could I tell? The police? Yeah, I could just see them believing me. Excuse me officer, but I happen to know that five high school girls are going to change a boy into a girl tonight by magic. How do I know? Well just look at me. Ignore the fact that there's a birth certificate that says I was born Megan Sue Dawson. I'm really a boy you never heard of named Daniel Korby. Right. I'd be cultivating fruit loops down at the funny farm for the rest of my days.

But there was another option. "I'll call Ray," I threatened. "Maybe I can make him believe me."

"Meg, I went out on a limb for you because of our long-standing friendship," Jenny explained, her eyes piercing me even in the darkness. "You were supposed to be like the others - spreading your legs for all comers. If you call Ray, I won't be able to stop the others. They'll turn you into a cheap whore in Tijuana or even something worse."

"They wouldn't!" I gasped, but I knew they would. Yes, Jenny had treated me well. She had treated me as if I was her sister for real. If I called Ray, my life as Megan would probably be over, and Jenny's friends would make sure my next life wasn't nearly as comfortable.

Jenny put her arm around me. I had begun to tremble from fear, and I was grateful for her embrace. I even felt tears trickling from my eyes and fought to hold back a frightened sob. If I was still Dan, I might have been more defiant. After all, I would have been a strong young man, able to take on all comers. But I wasn't Dan anymore. I was Megan - a young girl barely past childhood. I was small, weak, and unable to withstand the forces arrayed against me.

"Meg honey, I'm sorry," she said in a soothing tone. "I know this brings back some unpleasant memories for you. But there isn't anything you can do. I don't want to lose you, and Ray has to take his punishment."

"But what if... if he's not really guilty?" I asked in a quavering voice.

"There were a lot of witnesses," she reasoned. "They saw what they saw."

"But Jenny, doesn't it seem odd to you that two boys would attack girls in two months and both claim that they don't remember doing it? Doesn't this smack of magic?"

Jenny was quiet for a moment. I think I struck a chord she herself was starting to consider. "Look," she finally promised, "I don't know. I suppose it's possible. Let me do what I can. I promise you I'll try to delay the ceremony until we're sure one way or the other. But you mustn't call Ray. Promise me you won't."

"But you'll try?" I asked meekly.

She nodded. "I'll try."

"Okay."

I made good on my promise, too. I tried to pretend it was just a normal Saturday. I spent a little time with some of my new girlfriends from class. Yes, we did a little mall crawl. At least it took my mind off Ray. When I got home, Jake had called, inviting me to join some classmates for pizza and a movie. It wasn't a date exactly, but on these group excursions Jake and I seemed to spend more time talking to each other than to anyone else. Then we sat together at the movie and I didn't object when he casually dropped his hand over mine.

When I got home, Jenny wasn't there. It was nearly eleven, and I was sure she was with the other girls now, deciding Ray's fate. There was nothing I could do but anxiously wait. The hour between eleven and midnight seemed to go on forever, but I knew anything that happened would happen at midnight.

As the grandfather clock downstairs dutifully chimed twelve, I felt something pass over me. It was almost like a wind, but how could there be wind inside a closed house? If I hadn't been expecting it, I don't think I would have even noticed it. They had done something, but what? Whatever it was, I suspected Jenny had not been able to persuade them to change their plans. But how would I know?

Then I remembered: back when I had started this diary, I had mentioned Ray as being one of the guys drinking with me at the old line shack. I pulled out this book and ran back to the first entries I had made. There it was. I found the entry, but there was no mention of Ray! It was like the entry I had found supposedly made after the formal - the one where I got laid by Jake. It was in my handwriting, but it wasn't as I wrote it.

So reality had shifted again.

That meant there probably wasn't a Ray anymore. But I remembered him in spite of the fact that his name no longer appeared in my diary. How could that be? Was this a glitch in the magical mischief that had altered my life? Of course, Jenny and her friends would remember Ray just as they remembered me and the Swensons. But they were there when each of us was transformed. Did that mean that once affected by magic, I had developed a de facto immunity to its effects?

If that was the case, it meant that reality could shift around me but I would remember what had really happened. I wondered if it applied to transformations as well. If it did, being affected by magic was like having chickenpox - once you had them, you were immune to them. If it were so, then I couldn't be changed again - even into another girl no matter what Jenny and her friends said. I couldn't depend upon that, though, because there was another possibility. Because I was keeping this diary, I had written down my thoughts and memories of events. As many people have told me, if you want to remember something, write it down. Maybe the act of writing can have an effect on the magical shift of reality. The words are erased, but the memories of its author are too sharp to be eradicated.

Either way, there was a potential loophole in the magical fabric. I began to wonder if it could be exploited before even more magical damage was done, for I was certain that the trend would continue. Why couldn't Jenny see it? Could it be that she and her friends were being influenced as well without their knowledge? That made perfect sense. I had known all of them but Karen since elementary school and it wasn't like them to be so vindictive.

That brought me back to Karen again. What did I know about her? Nothing really. She and her family had move to Rio Del Diablo over the summer. I don't think as Danny I ever said more than a dozen words to her. That being the case, why would she have something against me, or at least enough to maneuver me into being transformed into a girl?

There were too many questions for me to answer, but I had to do something or watch my friends be transformed into girls for crimes they were not responsible for. But what could I do? I was just a fifteen year old girl. No one would believe me. I wasn't even old enough to drive a car.

By Monday, though, I had formed a rudimentary plan. My first step was to find allies. Jenny had slipped when she talked about others being transformed. She may have just meant the Swensons, but I was beginning to wonder if there were more former males as well - males whose very existence I had forgotten since their transformations occurred before mine. If so, I needed to find them. For now, though, I needed to keep my eyes open at school. I suspected that there would be a new girl at school. As far as most of my classmates were concerned, she would have been there all the time, but I wouldn't know her. I just needed to keep looking for a new girl who seemed out of sorts.

It took me until lunchtime to find her, but there she was, looking lost and alone in the school cafeteria. She appeared to be a little older than me - probably still a senior. Although several seniors, both boys and girls, spoke to her, she had picked an isolated table where she was picking at her food. She was Oriental, her almond-shaped eyes downcast and her long, straight black hair carelessly combed. In spite of the way she carried herself, her disheveled hair and her poorly done makeup, she was very attractive. That seemed to bother her, too, as she slouched to make her breasts less obvious. I sympathized with her. I had felt the same way once.

"Hi," I said brightly as I placed my tray across from hers and sat down. She only nodded in reply. "I'm Meg Dawson," I said brightly. Gee, I was getting good at this. "And you are...?"

"Sherry Takayoshi," she replied uncertainly in a low quavering voice.

"I think we have a mutual friend," I ventured. "Do you know a Ray Olson?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "Who are you? One of them?"

I knew who she meant by "them" and I shook my head. "No, but let me tell you a story."

As I suspected, Ray - Sherry now - had no memories of Dan Korby. Even when I reminded her about our little summer party out at the line shack, she could only shake her head. She remembered a couple of other guys being there but no Dan Korby. As far as she knew, Dan Korby never existed.

Then she told me her story. It wasn't much different from mine. With one little exception.

"What do you do about the urges?" she asked.

I looked at her, confused. "What urges?"

"Well," she said, her face reddening, "the urges with guys. I mean, every time I'm around one, I have to fight off the urge to... to... make love to him." Her eyes closed, squeezing tears. "I don't know how much longer I can stand it. I'm so horny... And I can't seem to satisfy myself."

I was actually horrified. Sure, guys were starting to look very attractive to me. I just assumed it was the natural flow of female hormones in my body. I mean, as attractive as they were starting to look, I hadn't noticed any urges other than those I suspected every fifteen year old girl experienced. As for self gratification, sure, I had played with myself a little. Again, I suspected many girls did. But what Sherry was talking about seemed far more extreme.

I suspected this was what some of the other girls - particularly Pam and Karen - had in mind for me. They wanted me to be a horny little slut. Come to think of it, much of their teasing and cajoling had been as much to start me thinking in that direction as it had been to embarrass me.

I suspected I once again had Jenny to thank. Right after my transformation, I had thought Jenny hadn't exactly done me any favors. Now, I realized she had. Our long friendship must have really made her feel I deserved a milder punishment. Maybe she had dampened my sexual urges to a normal level - either consciously or unconsciously - during my transformation. Or maybe just by becoming her younger sister, she had been able to guide me as a role model. Poor Sherry had no one to help her. Now two years older than me, she was an uncontrolled collection of female emotions and urges which if left unchecked would turn her into the little slut her tormentors had intended her to be.

"Sherry," I began softly, "it doesn't have to be that way."

"What? Are you trying to tell me you're a virgin?" She said the word "virgin" as if it were some sort of disease.

I actually felt myself blush. What was wrong with being a virgin. I mean, I didn't plan to be one forever. I was a girl for life, and unless I wanted to join a religious order, I knew I wouldn't be celibate forever. But I wasn't about to let some guy pop my cherry just yet. That would make Pam and Karen all too happy.

"Sherry, think about it for a minute," I said, starting over. "They changed us into girls, but what if that wasn't enough for them - or at least for some of them? What if they want us to be brainless sluts? Wouldn't that be the ultimate pimp on us?"

"So how am I supposed to fight these urges?" she demanded.

"I don't know," I admitted honestly. "I'm still pretty new at this myself. But I think the best way is to find somebody where it's more than just the sex."

Now it was her turn to be horrified. "Are you telling me you really like guys? I mean, with me, it's like an itch I need to scratch, but you're talking about really getting into guys - about love."

I thought about it for a moment. "Yes, I suppose I am. Look Sherry, I used to be male just like you were and I never for a moment was attracted to another guy when I was one, but this is who we are now - girls. We're supposed to be attracted to guys. What's wrong with loving one?"

The funny thing is that before I said it, I had never thought much about it. Loving a guy? The thought would have made me sick right after I was transformed, just as it was affecting Sherry. Now though, it seemed pretty natural. All I had to do was find the right guy. Jake? Maybe. Maybe not. As Alicia Silverstone says in Clueless, I'm only fifteen and this isn't Kentucky.

Now it was Sherry's turn to think. Ray had always had a sharp mind, and I suspected that as Sherry, she had lost none of that. Apparently our tormentors had thought it unnecessary to dumb us down, expecting the sexual urges to be enough to keep our focus away from other things. "Look over your shoulder," she said unexpectedly.

I did. Jenny was sitting with her friends at a round table not far away. I couldn't see Stephanie's face, but Stacy and Jenny seemed normal enough. It was Pam and Karen who were looking right at us, hatred in their eyes. Of course. They didn't want me to talk to Sherry. They wanted her to feel alone, subject to the sexual urges they had given her. I was ruining their fun.

"Do you think they can do anything else to us?" Sherry asked, worry in her newly feminine voice. "I mean, can they make us think like sluts?"

"I don't know," is what I told her, but I was thinking that they probably could. I shuddered. Jenny had protected me from being degraded, but if I started interfering with their plans for Sherry, I might be in danger.

Just in case, Sherry and I decided to break off and call each other later. As I started off for my afternoon classes, I realized I had serious choices to make. I could lead my life as Meg while trying to stay out of the way of Jenny's friends or I could try to help Sherry and run the risk of crossing them. Either way, I had no guarantees that they wouldn't interfere with me. I wasn't worried about Jenny. She had become truly the sister I had never had. But she was only one vote out of five as nearly as I could tell.

What I couldn't understand was why they had done what they had done to Ray and me. What had we ever done to them? They weren't man-haters. All of them dated and seem to enjoy normal relations with guys. We needed more information. I could only think of one other source - the Swenson twins. Was there a connection between Ray - now Sherry - and me and the Swenson twins? They would know more about that than I.

Before I could plan further, I ran into someone as I walked around a corner deep in thought. I nearly fell, rescued by a strong arm at the last minute. To my surprise, it was Jake.

"Oh, sorry," Jake said, letting go of my waist when I had regained my balance. "Hey look, I've been meaning to talk to you about Friday. I mean, it was great and all but maybe we're moving too fast."

What in blazes was he talking about? All we had done Friday was an innocent little goodnight kiss. All I could do was say, "Oh?"

He nodded his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I mean it was like I said - great. But maybe we should slow down. I mean, I'm not ready to commit just yet and..."

"Jake, what the hell are you talking about?" I finally blurted.

He looked surprised now. "Well, about Friday. I mean, you know."

"I'm not sure what you mean," I told him, "but for what it's worth, there's no commitment to talk about. It was just a date, okay?"

"Uh...do you mean it?"

I sighed, "Of course I mean it."

"I mean, I really like you a lot, Meg, or it wouldn't have happened, but I..."

"I know - you just aren't ready to commit."

He nodded, smiled and walked away ending one of the strangest conversations I had ever had. What was he talking about? He acted as if he had mistakenly given me an engagement ring. Hadn't Jake ever kissed a girl before? I shook my head and went to class.

I stopped suddenly. Oh shit! Jake remembered things the way my diary read. He thought we had... Oh shit!

Sherry called me right after dinner. I told her my plan about seeing the Swensons - if we could just figure out how to get there.

"I can get the car for a while," she offered.

I practically kicked myself. I had forgotten that although I had been transformed into a girl too young to drive, Sherry was seventeen. Of course, we could drive over to Girlville. It all sounded so simple. However, by the time we got there, I realized there were complications. Girlville was on the edge of town, but it was a rough edge. As Ray and Dan, I'm sure we would have been able to handle anything that came our way, but Sherry and Megan were the subject of attention from a very seedy element.

"You girls part of the act?" one grimy man in a T-shirt and jeans asked us as we approached the stage door of Girlville.

"The white girl looks a tad young," his similarly dressed friend commented.

"Yeah, but the little Chink looks nice," the first one replied, causing us to hasten our pace.

Relieved to see that they hadn't followed us, we ducked in the stage door. I expected to be stopped by the big man standing there whose obvious purpose was to make sure nobody bothered the girls. We might as well have been invisible, though, for he ignored us completely. Of course, I realized. He was there to keep men from bothering the girls. And sadly, we weren't men.

The Swenson brothers were now Lila and Twyla, the Busti Twins, or so the sign outside had declared. They were enjoying a smoke in their dressing room between acts. Both were minimally dressed with just a flimsy robe covering their voluptuous bodies, and from the smell of the smoke, I knew their cigarettes weren't exactly legal.

"Jeez, will you look at that," one of them said, brushing her long blonde hair back when she saw us. "You two girls are kinda young for this line of work, aren't you?"

Then they both chuckled while Sherry and I felt our faces flush.

"So okay," the other one said when she finished chuckling. "Now that Lila's had her little joke, what are you two kids doing here?"

I took the lead, telling them bluntly, "We know who you are - or who you were."

Their looks of amusement turned unexpectedly to anger. Twyla growled, "So who are you - two more of those little bitch witches here to laugh at us? It isn't gonna do you any good."

"Yeah," Lila chimed in. "So you changed us into women. We're more women than you little girls will ever be, so fuck you!"

"Wait!" I pleaded. "You don't understand. We're like you. They changed us, too."

At that, their expressions softened. "So now they're turning guys into little girls," Lila murmured angrily.

"And there's no stopping them. They just changed her last weekend," I said with a nod at Sherry. "We want to stop them before they do more harm."

"Good luck," Twyla replied, crossing her long sexy legs. "Don't count on us for help. It was bad enough to get used to being a stripper."

"Yeah," Lila agreed. "I thought I was gonna puke when I had to do my first lap dance."

"You two got lucky," Twyla went on. "It looks like you got to be normal high school girls - not strippers like us. Just go on home and find some nice guy and get him to marry you before he screws your brains out. We can't help you."

"But don't you want to get back at them for wrongfully accusing you of rape?" I asked, becoming frustrated with the twins.

"Wrongfully accused!" Twyla laughed. "Oh sweetheart, are you naive! Wrongfully accused? That little bit of sweet meat was just too good to pass up, but she thought she was better than us. We showed her, though."

"Yeah," Lila agreed with a marijuana-induced chuckle.

I stepped back from them. "Then... then you really did rape her?"

"Right, cutie," Twyla grinned. "Of course if she knew what we know now, maybe she would have just settled back and enjoyed it. That's what Lila and I do now. We just lie back and let the guys have their fun. That's probably what that other one does, too, or she'd be with you."

"Other one?" I stopped. Hadn't Jenny said something about others? If the Swensons wouldn't help us maybe another tranformee would. "What other one?"

She shrugged. "I don't remember his name. I just remember hearing about some high school guy at the first of the school year. He claimed he didn't remember attacking the girl. Then, it was like he never existed. We just figured the little witches got him like they got us."

Sherry and I thanked them and left quickly.

"So who else has been transformed?" Sherry asked when we were safely back in her car.

That was the question I had been asking myself all the way back to the car. Of course, I wouldn't recognize the male name of the person Twyla had been talking about. After all, he had been changed into a girl well before me. But I was pretty sure I knew what her female name was. "Let's go over to Vickie Peters' house," I told her.

Vickie was a little surprised to see us. Like many girls who were promiscuous, Vickie didn't have many girl friends, and Sherry and I were certainly not among the friends she did have. As usual, she was made up to the hilt and dressed in a short skirt and tight blouse practically making Sherry and I look like boys in our jeans and sweatshirts. Or maybe I should say like the boys we wished we were.

"We need to talk to you in private, Vickie," I told her without any preamble.

Vickie took us back to her room. It reminded me of my own room - feminine and neat. But unlike my room, there were posters of men on the wall, all looking virile and ready for action. No wonder she had gone after most of the guys in the senior class. If I had looked at those pictures every day, I might have had more trouble staying a virgin than I was already having.

"So what's this all about?" Vickie asked when we had all found a place to sit.

"We know who you really were," I told her. "Or rather what you were."

She gasped, "How could you know that?"

"Because it happened to us, too," Sherry said. "Don't you remember us?"

It took Vickie a moment, but then she said slowly, "Dan? Ray? It is you, isn't it?"

"I'm Dan," I replied with a nod. "Or at least I used to be."

"And I was Ray," Sherry told her.

"I was sure that's who you were," Vickie said in wonder, "but I was afraid to talk to you. I didn't know what they would do to us if they saw us together."

It wasn't just paranoia. I had noticed Pam and Karen staring at Sherry and me earlier. Of course they didn't want us to be together. They wanted us alone and unprotected, anxious to shack up with the first guy who smiled in our direction.

"So who were you?" I asked Vickie.

"Oh Dan - I mean Meg - I was Steve Barney," she said, practically in tears. "I was your best friend."

I'm sure my mouth fell open. I had never heard of Steve Barney.

It took her a while to tell her story because she had to stop every now and then to cry. Sherry and I both realized how lucky we had been. Jenny had taken me under her wing and I had taken Sherry under mine. Even the Swensons had had each other. But Steve - Vickie now - had been all alone.

"They said I nearly raped Rebecca Verdon," she told us. "I guess I did, but I swear I don't remember it at all. One minute we were just walking together over at River Park and the next minute some man was pulling me away from her. She was screaming." Vickie shuddered. "I'll never forget that scream for as long as I live."

She had found herself transformed just as Sherry and I had been changed. Only in her case, she was now the only child of a very uninvolved couple. They scarcely acknowledged her existence. As for her former friends, we all remembered her as slutty Vickie Peters. Alone and confused, she quickly fell prey to her heightened sexual instincts. I was chagrined to realize that I had participated in her torment since as Dan, I had screwed Vickie.

She must have realized what I was thinking. "Meg, look, don't worry. I really don't regret making love to you or any of the other guys. I've had a little more time to get used to this and frankly, I wouldn't go back to being male if I could."

"Do you mean that?" I asked, surprised that she was taking her transformation so well.

She nodded. "I really do. You see I've started dating Bill Wisdom for the last few weeks and he really likes me. I really like him. I think he really cares for me, so it's not so bad after all." She looked down, unable to meet our eyes. "I... I think Bill's going to ask me to marry him before he starts college. I'm going to accept. I... I really love him." Then she blushed.

Bill Wisdom was the center on our football team. He was really a big guy but always a nice guy, too. We used to call him the Gentle Giant. There was no doubt that he would someday have a future in professional football. If Vickie had settled down with him she'd be all right. I felt happy for her.

"Okay," I said, giving my blessing to Vickie in a word. "But we can't let those girls keep doing this. They're destroying lives."

"Yes," Sherry agreed slowly, "but I don't think all of them realize it."

Vickie and I looked at her strangely.

"Look," she began to explain, "we've known each of those girls for a long time. Meg, Jenny is your sister now. Can you see her masterminding some weird plot to turn a bunch of boys into girls?"

"No," I admitted quickly. "If anything, I think she's starting to get concerned about what's happening as well."

"And what about the others?" Sherry asked. "Could any of them be behind this?"

"It wouldn't be Stacy," Vickie stated. "She was my girlfriend before I was changed. I know her too well."

"She was your girlfriend and she helped change you into a girl?" Sherry blurted.

"Well," Vickie said softly, "consider what she thought I did. She thought I blew off a date with her and went out and raped a friend of hers."

"And Jenny was one of my best friends," I pointed out, "and she helped do this to me."

There had to be some sort of connection we all shared, I realized. Vickie - or rather Steve - had been close to Stacy, and I had been a good friend of Jenny, but Ray hadn't been close to any of the girls. He hadn't had as much as a single date with any of them, so that wasn't the connection.

"I dated a couple of their friends," Sherry admitted, "but I didn't know any of the girls who did this to us very well."

"So maybe it wasn't something we did to them," I allowed, "but there must be a connection we all share."

"We all played football," Vickie suggested.

"And we did a lot of things together," Sherry added.

Then it came to me. Yes, the three of us had been good friends and done many things together, and there was no common connection to any of the girls. But we had all been transformed at the old line shack, and there was something we had all done there together. "The party at the line shack!" I exclaimed. Vickie and Sherry looked at me, puzzled. "Look, when were you transformed, Vickie?"

"Just before the school year started," she replied, still confused.

"Just a couple of weeks after we had the party at the line shack," I pointed out.

"Okay," Vickie said, "that explains the three of us, but the Swensons got transformed according to you as well. They weren't at the party. Or at least I don't think they were. God! How can we know what was real then? Maybe they were friends of ours, too."

"I get the idea we didn't know the Swensons," I told her. Besides, they really did rape someone. I think they were just the catalyst."

Sherry frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

I explained, "Let's say someone wanted to get back at the three of us for something, but she wasn't sure how to do it. I mean, she could work magic, but she couldn't do it alone. So first, she'd look for something that would make the people she needed to help her angry enough to buy into her magic act."

"Something like a rape," Vickie offered.

I nodded. "That's right. I think we all have found out from personal experience that women abhor a rapist more than anyone else in the world. So when the Swensons were accused of rape, she saw her opportunity. Then, she framed us for the same thing with the same result."

"Okay," Sherry agreed. "But wouldn't she have already known that rape was the answer?"

"What do you mean?"

Sherry sighed. "Well, if one of the girls was looking for an issue to unite the other girls she needed, she'd already know that rape should be the issue."

I felt a little deflated. She was right. If the Swenson affair was required to trigger the type of response she needed, it would mean that she didn't consider rape such a big issue. What kind of girl would need to be shown that other girls hated rape so much?

"I still think the party we had at the line shack had something to do with this," I insisted stubbornly. "And I think it took the rape the Swensons did to start this whole thing off. Vickie, you're the only one of us who remembers all of us being at the party. Tell us about that night."

Vickie complied, reciting every detail she could think of. It had been a pretty good sized party. Since it was bring your own, guys kept shuffling in and out all evening. Steve, Ray and I had gone out together. Then, we had started drinking beer with several other guys. It was a typical high school beer party. The old line shack was a perfect place to hold it. A relic of early ranching days in the valley, it was off the main highway on an old dirt service road. No one had used the shack for generations. There were trees all around it so our activities were screened from prying eyes.

"So how many of the guys were out there?" I asked.

Vickie shrugged. "Maybe thirty or so. I don't remember exactly since guys were coming and going all evening."

"You don't think everyone at that party is at risk, do you?" Sherry asked.

Before I could answer, Vickie said, "Wait a minute. I remember one time when there were just four of us together. It was the three of us and Charlie Dugan. We went out in the woods to take a piss. That's when I found that necklace."

"What necklace?" Sherry and I asked in unison.

Vickie looked at us, puzzled. "Oh, that's right. You wouldn't remember, would you? I guess you forgot because I was the one who found it and you don't remember Steve. We had just taken a piss not too far from the shack when I spotted something silver in the moonlight. It was at the base of a tree that had died and been uprooted. That's probably why nobody noticed it before." She gave a little laugh. "You two and Charlie wouldn't touch it. You were afraid it was just where we had pissed, but I dug it out anyway. It was a small silver cross."

"I thought you said it was a necklace," I interjected.

"There was a necklace, too," she clarified. "It was buried right under the cross. It wasn't much to look at. It was just a piece of stone attached to a strand of rawhide. The rawhide was in pretty poor shape."

Magic artifacts? The idea would have seemed pretty far out if I weren't encased in the body of a fifteen year old girl. Had pissing on the artifact triggered some magic reaction? Maybe, but that didn't explain the Swensons. Was it the stone or was it the cross? Had we pissed on a cross and angered God? I couldn't remember anything in Christian stories about transformations of that sort.

"Vickie, what did you do with the artifacts?"

"I've still got the cross around here some place. It looked like it was silver so I thought it might be worth something."

"Then it probably isn't with you any more," Sherry said. "When you changed into Vickie, the cross had never belonged to her."

Vickie looked a little crestfallen. "That's right. I hadn't thought of that."

"But what about the necklace?" I asked.

"Oh, I gave that to Stacy. I thought she might like it. It looked liked it was carved by Indians."

"That may be the answer. Maybe the necklace or whatever it is gives the wearer magical powers. If Stacy has it, why don't we just get it back from her?" Sherry wanted to know.

Vickie shook her head. "She told me she gave it to a friend. The friend was going to try to figure out what the amulet was. My guess is that it went to one of the other four girls in the coven - if that's what it is."

"Vickie, what did it look like?" I asked, my heart pounding. It had to be the necklace. I didn't know enough about Indian myths to say for certain, but it seemed to me that I had read somewhere that their magic included transformations - at least into animals.

Vickie quickly sketched out what she remembered of the necklace. It was small, made of white stone which had been shaped to form a crude circle. Five jagged lines looking like crude lightning bolts radiated out from the center to the edges. It wasn't exactly high art; it looked almost like something a child would do.

"Do you really think something as crude as that could have the sort of power we're talking about?" Sherry asked skeptically.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I know someone who might."

I had to wait until school the next day to find out. I had become one of Mr. Mackenzie's best students, so he wasn't surprised to see me waiting after class to see him. "What can I do for you today, Megan?" he asked with an indulgent smile.

I pulled the sheet Vickie had drawn out of my purse. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

He looked at it carefully. "It looks Indian," he confirmed, very interested in the drawing. "I haven't seen anything quite like it. Why do you ask?"

"A friend of mine found this drawn on a stone not far from town," I told him.

I was rewarded with a little gasp. Mr. Mackenzie looked at the drawing with new interest. It was no secret around the school that he was writing a book on the native Indian tribes of Southern California and Northern Mexico. "Near town you say?"

I nodded.

"I'll look into this at once," he told me.

He meant what he said. I was just getting ready to go to lunch when Mr. Mackenzie called out to me in the hall, "Megan, can I see you for a moment?"

As I followed him into his empty classroom, I saw he was very excited. "I must know where your friend found this," he began at once. "Look at this."

There was a large thick book open on his desk. I couldn't see the title, but I could see a drawing in the book that looked very similar to the one Vickie had made.

"Megan, what do you know about Indian myths?"

"Nothing really," I had to admit.

"I'm not surprised," he sighed. "So few were ever written down. The oral tradition of Indian myths has made it so difficult to study them. Many have undoubtedly been lost through the centuries. Megan, have you ever heard of the Yaqui people?"

I smiled. "Yes, I remember you telling us about them. Weren't they a tribe of Indians in the Southwest?"

He nodded as he looked up at me with a smile of his own. "You deserve the A you're making now in my class. The Yaqui are indeed a tribe that ranged from through Arizona and Northern Mexico. While they are best known in those regions, they did range this far west upon occasion. In some ways, their religion was like our own. They believed in the cosmic battle of good and evil and many of their concepts can be expressed in terms most Christians would find familiar."

"What kind of terms?" I asked, becoming fascinated with the topic.

"Well, they believed in something called Morea - witchcraft we would call it. And anyone who practiced Morea was known as a Morea-kame - or witch. Like Christianity, magic was uniformly a tool of evil when practiced by a Morea-kame. The witch could kill with a stare or transform him or herself into an animal with a thought."

Now he really had my interest. "Could they transform others?"

"It's not documented, but I wouldn't be surprised," he replied. "Apparently items like the one your friend found were often used to focus the magic. Also, groups of Morea-kames formed what might be called covens - presumably of five witches indicated by the five lines on the amulet. Megan, this is a significant find. The picture in the book is only a drawing made from a description of a person of Yaqui descent. No one in recent history had ever actually seen one of them."

No, I wasn't surprised about that. The amulet was obviously dangerous and powerful. Maybe there had only been one in existence. It was just bad luck that we had been the ones to find it.

"This may confirm the reason for our town's name," Mr. Mackenzie speculated.

"Huh?" I said. "In middle school we learned that the town's name came from the fact that the river was so unpredictable and devilish."

"It's the common story," Mr. Mackenzie admitted. "But while researching for my book, I came across a curious story. When this area was still Spanish, there was a practicing witch in the region. She was quite possibly a Morea-kame. She apparently formed a coven and fled San Diego. According to the records I found, a local priest formed a posse of locals and tracked her and her coven down. They had been holed up along the river somewhere. The records are a little unclear, but apparently they found her and her followers and hanged them along the river. Since the witches were said to be in league with the devil, I believe it was then that the name of the river became Rio Del Diablo. I have no proof yet, but it makes as much sense as anything."

He was right about that, I thought as I left his office. It was all starting to make sense to me now. I grabbed a quick lunch in the cafeteria and sat in a quiet corner where Vickie and Sherry were waiting for me, their lunches already eaten.

"Where were you?" Sherry asked, partially upset and partially concerned.

"This may not be a good idea," Vickie mentioned, nodding at Pam and Karen who were glowering at the three of us from a distant table. "I don't think they like seeing us together."

"I was with Mr. Mackenzie," I told them, sitting down and stuffing a bite of salad into my mouth. "He researched the amulet for me. I think I know what's going on."

"Tell us!" Vickie and Sherry demanded together.

It was tough to eat and talk, but I managed. "The night of the party at the line shack - we all took a piss by the amulet. I think we may have pissed on it, offending whatever demon it summons." Vickie and Sherry sat speechless, their mouths open. I sighed, "I guess I need to explain a few things to you. Have you ever heard of the Yaqui...?"

I explained quickly what Mr. Mackenzie told me. I was careful to explain it just as he had explained it to me.

"...so I think the demon decided to take out revenge on us. The problem was that it didn't know how to do it. You, Vickie, had given the amulet to Stacy, so it could only tap into her thoughts and emotions. He had no knowledge of our culture or what a fitting punishment for us would be. So it was patient. It waited until it could understand us better. Then, the Swensons committed a rape. It was one of the worst things any girl can imagine. It would be just the thing it needed to nudge Stacy and the other girls into taking magical action."

"Wait a minute," Vickie interrupted. "You're telling me that Stacy and the other girls decided to get the devil to help them punish the Swensons? I don't think they'd risk their souls for that."

"We're not talking about the devil as we understand him," I pointed out. "My guess is that it's never communicated directly with them in those terms. Maybe it just gave Stacy the idea that it would be neat if the stone was really a magic amulet that could punish rapists. Maybe it told them it was a magic genie. I don't know how the demon did it, but I know it influenced them somehow. The punishment they came up with was as fitting as they could imagine. The Swensons would never rape a girl again - because they'd be girls!"

"So then the girls staged our crimes just so they could change us?" Sherry asked.

"No, not the girls," I replied with a shake of my head. "It was the demon. Once they started exercising the powers of the demon, it became stronger. It made us do the things we did - then helped the girls punish us for them."

"Then maybe it was lying when it made the girls believe that we couldn't be changed back into males," Sherry said brightly. "Maybe we can get changed back."

Vickie actually looked a little uncomfortable at that thought. There was no doubt she had come to like being a girl. I doubted if she would ever want to change back. Sherry hadn't been a girl very long, and I knew that given the chance to be Ray again, she'd jump at it. But how about me? I had been a girl for only a few weeks, but somehow it had already begun to seem if not natural at least tolerable. I had pretty much reconciled myself to makeup, heels and periods for the rest of my life. But I realized that even if we could be changed back, there was another problem.

"Sherry," I began slowly, "I don't think changing back would be a very good idea."

Sherry gave me a puzzled look. "Why not?"

"I think the demon can only use so much magic at a time. Notice it's taken the demon several weeks to get back at us, and it still has to get to Charlie. To change all of us back might take months. That would give it plenty of time to thwart us, even if we were able to figure out a way to force it to change us back. We might even be drawn into its influence ourselves, just like Jenny and her friends."

"So we're stuck as girls," Sherry said glumly.

"Hey, it's not so bad," Vickie told her, patting her hand. "I mean, when I got changed, I felt the same way I'm sure you do now. But once you get used to it, it's actually fun." Then she arched her eyebrows and wiggled them. "And let me tell you, the sex is the best!"

Sherry blushed, and I even felt my own face becoming a little warm as well.

Vickie had had her fun. Looking at me, she asked, "So what do we do now, coach?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Jenny had told me that it was impossible to change me back into a male. I didn't know if she was right about that, but I supposed it really didn't matter. Even if the demon or whatever it was could change any of us back into males, I doubted if it would. We had pissed on its totem and it would never forgive us.

Maybe if we did nothing, the demon would leave us alone. But I really didn't think so. I was sure the vindictiveness displayed by Karen and Pam had been amplified by the malevolent spirit, but it was there nonetheless. They would be the eyes and ears of the demon, and it had no desire to see any of its victims lead happy, healthy lives. Vickie had managed to finally control her sexual impulses - or at least focus them on one guy. Jenny was around to protect me for now, and I had been able to keep Sherry from giving in to her impulses, but that wouldn't always be possible. Eventually, the demon would figure out a way to ruin our female lives as surely as it had ruined our males ones. If it had had any inkling that Jenny would have really come to accept me as her kid sister, I'm sure the demon would have demanded I be changed into someone else - someone whose sexual needs could be better exploited.

And there was the further damage the demon could do. Charley would be the next victim. Of that I was certain. But what then? I was sure it wouldn't stop there. How many lives would the little bastard ruin before it was stopped? And what was happening to the girls it was using? I had always been Jenny's friend, and now I was her sister. I didn't want to see her hurt. Was her soul in jeopardy from using the magic? Perhaps. Worse yet, she and her friends thought they were doing something good. They thought they were protecting our town from sex fiends and rapists. How could they know that they were part of the problem - not part of the solution?

In the time remaining in our lunch hour, I explained all of this to Vickie and Sherry and was pleased when they agreed with my reasoning. We didn't need to move too quickly. The demon seemed to wait several weeks in between each transformation. We didn't know if this was due to limits in its power or if it merely realized that a sensational attempted rape each week might raise suspicions among the girls whose help it depended upon. We agreed to meet over the weekend and discuss it. That meeting will take place tomorrow.

That's all the time I have to write now. I'm going out with Jake in about an hour and I need to get ready.

Sunday, 15 December, 1996

I don't have much time to write now, so I'll make this quick. I just met with Vickie and Sherry. We decided we needed to do nothing for the moment, but we needed to keep a close watch on Charlie. He'll be the next victim; we're sure of that. But we don't think anything will happen for a while. Sherry actually talked to Charlie, and he told her he was going with his family to San Francisco for Christmas to see his grandparents. That means the demon won't have a shot at him until school starts again after the first of the year.

I was actually relieved to hear that. There was just too much going on in my life to act like that movie heroine, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Finals were coming up and I still had all my Christmas shopping to do. I had to go out with Jenny to get family presents. Then I needed to get something nice for Jenny. And of course, there was Jake...

I'm almost embarrassed to write this down, but I think I'm falling for Jake. I mean, how can I be attracted to my younger brother? It seems like incest. Yeah, I know - it isn't really. The only connection that could be considered incestuous is locked in my mind. Jake doesn't have any inkling that I used to be his older brother. Even if I told him, he wouldn't believe me. Any genetics test would prove that we weren't related at all. And even though I remember being his brother, I don't think like his brother now.

It's hard to explain, I guess. Looking back at some of the earlier entries I made in this diary, I find myself reading the words of someone else. Every day, another piece of Daniel Korby seems to be lost. In just a few short weeks things that at first seemed odd and out of place are now normal. It seems perfectly natural to sit down to pee. Putting on pantyhose is practically second nature. I don't have to be reminded to wear makeup or to carry my purse. I look at other girls as just friends now, admiring their hair, makeup and clothing and wondering how that look would be for me. I still don't get a big kick out of shopping but I seem to have a good time with the other girls when I do.

And then, there are the boys - one particular boy, of course.

I suppose it was to be expected. I have all the right plumbing now, so it's only natural that I'm attracted to boys. When I was a boy, I never noticed what other boys looked like. Oh, I would size them up as potential athletes. Did I want them on my team? Could they block or catch a ball? I would also size them up by interests. Did they like the same things I did? That sort of thing.

Now, though, I saw them in an entirely different light. I found myself looking at their builds, not as teammates but as another kind of mate. I noted the shape of their butts, the smile they gave me, where their eyes wandered when they were talking to me. I began to wonder what it would be like to have them. I found that such a thought could even cause me to start experiencing a tingling sensation in my breasts and between my legs.

When I was with Jake last night, I found I wanted to be close to him - to cuddle. We just went to a movie and had a Coke afterwards, but I found I was taking every opportunity to be close to him and to hold his hand. I ignored most of the movie, choosing instead to snuggle up next to him and idly wonder what it would be like to, well you know.

I even giggled softly to myself. At least I didn't have to wonder what he looked like without his clothes on. I had seen Jake without his clothes since he was a baby. But now things had changed. Oh, how they had changed. Jenny is determined to save herself for marriage. I'm not sure I'm that strong. I hope this isn't just some trick of the demon, making me want Jake like I do. But to tell the truth, I don't really care.

Monday, 23 December 1996

Good lord, has it really been over three weeks since I made an entry to this diary? Of course I do have a good excuse, or several good excuses to be more accurate. I guess that makes me a lousy diarist. Well, so be it.

My first excuse is that I haven't had much to report on our little demon problem. Vickie, Sherry and I have been on the alert for any further magical activity, but so far nothing. We've tried to keep an eye on Charlie. Sherry even bit the bullet and threw herself in front of Charlie a couple of times. It worked. He asked her out on a date. Then one date led to two and so on. She's been dating him for a couple of weeks and begrudgingly admits that she's enjoying it. Welcome to the world of girlhood, Sherry.

But as I said, nothing has happened to Charlie - yet. Vickie thinks it may be because Charlie hadn't been with us at first. Maybe the demon didn't think of Charlie as part of our group. Maybe he was happy with transforming the three of us. Sherry thinks maybe its power is limited and it needs to recharge its batteries before changing Charlie. I don't think either of them are right, though. I think the demon is lying low because even the girls in its little coven are getting suspicious. More on that later.

Another excuse I have is that I've been researching Indian myths. I even got Mr. Mackenzie to give me extra credit for a paper on the subject. Fortunately, the local library had a few books on the subject and Mr. Mackenzie loaned me a few more. I never realized before what a wide variety of myths and legends formed the tapestry of Indian folklore. I was, of course, very interested in finding as many transformation myths as possible. I was surprised to find how many there were. Most involved transformation of men into animals, and others were about the mischievous Trickster who appeared in countless Indian legends under a variety of names.

But there were some sex changes as well. The one I found most interesting was the legend of a brave who pissed in a river angering the spirit of that river. He was turned into a woman for his transgression. I became even more certain that this was why Vickie, Sherry and I had been singled out for such a punishment.

What really concerns me is what the demon would do once he had taken his full revenge on us. He might not be finished with us yet. First, there is the possibility that he's still after Charlie. Then there is the distinct possibility that Vickie, Sherry and I are not turning out the way he wants us to. Oh sure, Vickie started out to be the slut they wanted her to be, but since she has started dating Bill Wisdom, she has cleaned up her act. She is even starting to make decent grades, and while she isn't going to get into any major college, she has decided to start at a community college in the fall and make something of herself. Secretly, I suspect when she does that, she'll have a wedding ring on her finger.

Sherry's initial identity was also as a slut, but since I caught her early, she had overcome the role the demon had made for her. Like Vickie, she'll probably start out in a modest community college, but she has all of Ray's math and science abilities, so it shouldn't be long before she is able to transfer into a larger school and kick serious butt.

Me? Well, I had advantages neither of them had when transformed. I had Jenny. I had really come to think of her as my older sister, and I had tried to emulate her whenever I could. Of course, being fifteen helped, too. Sure, I know there are some fifteen year old sluts - there are several in my classes. But it's a little harder to be a slut at fifteen. My parents (and yes, I've really come to think of them as my parents) aren't the sort of parents who will allow their fifteen year old daughter to go just anywhere. The day Sherry and I visited the Swensons and met with Vickie was a rare day. Why? Because they didn't know where I had gone. I had a lot of explaining to do when I got home, too.

And, of course, I'm too young to drive. I have a learner's permit, and Dad has been very proud of the way I handle a car. Of course, he doesn't know that I had been driving one for two years before my transformation. I'll get my license in March, though, so look out world.

And then there's Jake. I guess the Korby boys are a little slow when it comes to sex. As Dan, I lost my cherry as a junior. I just wasn't the kind of guy who tried to score all the time - particularly when I really liked the girl. I mean, I didn't want to screw up a good relationship with sex at the wrong time. Jake seems to be that way, too. He reminds me of me at that age: a little shy and very considerate of his date's feelings. Every time I'm out with him, I like him a little more. It's reached the point now that I really look forward to our time together. But so far, no sex.

But I digress. The point that I want to make is that if the demon wanted us to be sluts, it has failed. But we've all had ample evidence that it can shift reality and make us do things we would never dream of doing. I don't think we're out of the woods just yet.

The other excuses I have for not writing in some time are finals and Christmas. As for finals, I've got a good thing going right now. Like Vickie and Sherry, my new reality included a crummy grade point and a reputation as a mediocre student and slut in training. Unlike Vickie and Sherry, I'm only a Sophomore. That means I have plenty of time to boost that grade point. With any luck, it will be straight A's this term.

Then as for Christmas, I've had a lot of shopping to do. So okay, I'm actually getting into the shopping thing. As Dan, I never thought much about the presents I bought. My parents would give me spending money and my brothers and I would pool some of it to buy them their presents. The rest I would spend on my brothers, but they were easy to buy for. If it had something to do with sports, they'd like it. As for girlfriends, I never dated any one girl very long, so I never had to buy one a Christmas present.

Now, though, it was different. I had already figured out that several of my new girl friends liked to exchange presents, and in my new family, each of us girls was expected to buy the parents a present on our own. Then, I had to shop for Jenny. That was a tough one because I wanted it to be something special. She may have been involved in my unexpected transformation, but she had been a good sister to me and I wanted her to know it. And of course, there was Jake. It's funny, but all the time he had been my brother, I had given little thought to his presents. Now, though, it was as if I was compelled to get just the right thing for him. And of course, all of this took time.

See why I haven't written anything in this diary lately?

And to be truthful, there's another reason as well. When I began this chronicle, it was with the idea that I wanted to retain as much of Dan as I could. I was a guy in a girl's body when I began to write this. Now though, I'm something else. I don't know that I'm all girl because there will always be some of Dan in me. In fact, if I was offered the chance to be Dan again, I'd still take it. I'm not really completely comfortable with all of these feminine emotions and urges. But I'm more girl than boy. I suppose you can't spend every day being seen as a girl and not become one no matter what your memories tell you.

Well, that's all I can think of to write for now. I hereby promise to make an entry right after Christmas. Between having a brand new family and dating Jake, this promises to be an interesting Christmas indeed.

Thursday, 26 December, 1996

See? I'm making good on my promise. I'm actually writing this down without a two or three week delay. And I'm not just doing this because I said I would. I'm doing it because I'm genuinely excited! In many ways, this was my best Christmas ever.

I don't just mean because the presents were great. Oh, they were, but in a way, Jenny gave me the greatest gift of all and all she spent on it was a little time. Let me explain.

The whole family exchanged gifts in a very traditional way. We all went downstairs Christmas morning still in our robes and exchanged presents. I suppose it's an indication of how much of a girl I've become, but I was genuinely thrilled by the gifts I received - with the exception of some new bras. My mother gave them to me, noting my breasts seemed to be growing a little more. I didn't like being reminded of that. Clothing, cosmetics and accessories were all part of my new life, and the delicate gold necklace Jenny got me was going to look perfect with the white turtleneck and burgundy skirt my parents got me. Jenny seemed overjoyed with the earrings that I got her. I knew she had been coveting them ever since she had seen them in the jewelry store.

We were in her room trying on our Christmas loot. The two of us were busy giggling like ten year old girls as we tried our new finery on in various combinations, even trading clothes back and forth. It was hard for me to understand how appalled my old persona would have been by this behavior. All I knew was that I was having a good time.

"Meg," Jenny began at last as I tried on yet another new skirt, "I have one other gift for you... sort of."

I smiled at my sister. "Yes?"

My smile evaporated. I could see she was struggling to say what she had decided to say. "You've wanted to tell me about that night before you were changed. I... I think I'd like to hear about it now."

I sat down on the bed beside her. "Oh, Jen..." After my transgression, she had told me not to call her that again, but somehow I sensed that it was all right again. "I've wanted to tell you so badly. But why now?"

"Because," she began slowly, "something isn't right. You know that, too, don't you?"

I nodded but said nothing. Whatever Jenny knew the other girls would know shortly. I wanted to say nothing that could tip off the demon.

"It just seems all too staged," Jenny went on. "When the Swensons raped poor Becky Mitchell, and we found out we had the power to do something about it, it was justice. I mean, the Swensons were punished and Becky doesn't remember being raped. It seemed like a really good thing. But now, there have been three more incidents - each involving guys I didn't think would ever do anything like that. That's why I want to hear your story."

So I told her, leaving out nothing. I had tried to put the incident as far back in my mind as I could, as if what had happened really happened to someone else. I suppose it did when I think about it. After all, Dan doesn't even exist anymore - I'm Megan.

When I had finished, Jenny was practically in tears. "Then you don't remember anything about the... the incident?"

I shook my head. "No. I only know what people told me about it. I was afraid I might have a tumor." I didn't tell her what I suspected now. As much as I trusted and loved Jenny, whatever I told her would most likely be common knowledge to all of her friends the next time they used any magic. I was becoming more and more convinced that this wonderful girl and her friends were almost as much victims as I was.

At least the air has been cleared between Jenny and me. I feel as close to her now as I once felt to my brothers. I know if it hadn't been for her love and support, I would have become a slut like Vickie had been. Even though she was part of the group that did this to me, I owe her a lot. No matter what happens from here on, I need to make sure Jenny doesn't get hurt.

Friday, 24 January, 1997

It happened!

I'm writing quickly because it's late and I'm tired, but I need to write this down. I haven't written anything for a while because nothing has happened. Well, that is nothing magical has happened. I suppose a lot has happened, but I vowed when I started this diary that this wasn't going to be the diary of a typical fifteen year old girl, and most of what has happened lately has been strictly girl stuff.

In fact, tonight started out that way - typical girl stuff. So okay, I'm really a girl now. I spent most of the day thinking about my upcoming date with Jake. We were just going to a movie, but I have really fallen for the guy. I don't think of him as my brother anymore. He's just this hunky guy that I love to be around. I mean, it's not like we're serious about each other, but I really like him.

Anyhow, we had just gotten out of the movie and were going over to get a quick Coke at Mickey D's before heading out into the country for a little innocent lip lock. Before we got back to Jake's car though, Andy Reed, one of the other Sophomores on the football team came up to us, his face pale.

"Did you hear about Charlie Dugan?" he asked Jake and me. When we shook our heads, he explained, "He tried to rape Nancy Slayton in her own house. Her parents were gone and he broke into the house."

My heart stopped. So it had started again. I had thought Sherry was out on a date with Charlie, so how had this happened?

"Where did you hear this?" Jake wanted to know.

"Mike Hitchcock lives next to her," Andy explained. Mike was also on the team. "He heard the screams and pulled Charlie off her. Then, he called me and a couple of other guys."

Andy continued with the details, but I wasn't really listening. I knew what they would be. Then tomorrow, a frightened Charlie would be lured out to the old line shack to be transformed into a girl. The demon's revenge would then be complete, but I had little doubt that it would continue to create havoc with the help of Jenny and her friends. This would be the last opportunity we would have to stop it because this would be the last time we would be really sure of when the demon was to be summoned.

I'll admit I'm having some second thoughts about this. I mean, there must be another way that involves less risk. Maybe Vickie and Sherry and I could sneak into the girls' houses and look for the amulet. Without the amulet, the demon would be powerless. I'm sure Jenny doesn't have it, and since Vickie as Steve gave the amulet to Stacy, we could start there. Of course, the problem is that we really don't know where it is. We can only be sure of where the amulet is when it's about to be used, and that means tomorrow night.

Of course, we could just forget the entire thing. We're putting ourselves at considerable risk. If the demon thwarts our attempts to stop him, Vickie, Sherry and I could find ourselves whores in a Tijuana brothel or something. Part of me wants to just let things happen. After all, Vickie wouldn't change back for anything and Sherry is getting used to heels and skirts. Me? Well, to be honest, being Megan isn't so bad. So why rock the boat? Sure, Charlie is going through hell right now, but we could help him after his transformation. He might learn to like being a girl just as we had.

But of course, there's Jenny. I can't leave her under the influence of the demon. God only knows what might happen to her if the demon is allowed to continue its mischief. I'm sure it had far more nastiness in mind. Changing a few boys into girls is probably just the beginning. No matter what, I can't leave Jenny in its clutches. After all, she's my sister.

Sunday, 26 January, 1997

Well, it's over. I feel as if a tremendous weight has been pulled off my shoulders. But it wasn't without cost, and the cost was nearly higher. But I'm getting ahead of myself again.

Yesterday of course was the big day. Vickie, Sherry and I met about noon. I rushed out yelling to my family that we were going to lunch and crawl the mall. The lunch part wasn't a lie anyway. We picked a corner table at the nearest Carl's Jr. and in the relative privacy began to plot our strategy for that evening.

"How do we know they'll take him to the line shack?" Sherry wanted to know.

"Because," I told her confidently, "they've taken all of us to the line shack. It's private for one thing, and I'm not sure, but I think there may even be something it needs out there. Maybe it's magically charged ground or something. After all, that's where the amulet was found."

"I think it's safe to assume Charlie will be taken to the line shack," Vickie agreed. "The question is what we can do about it. I mean, that little coven has a lot of power. We can't just walk in and demand they stop his transformation. If we do, there's no telling what they can do to us."

That was a sobering thought. I was just getting used to being Megan Sue Dawson. And I was sure whatever the demon did to me for interfering would be a whole lot worse than being Jenny's kid sister.

"We have to go for the amulet right away," Vickie continued.

"But we don't know for sure who's wearing it," Sherry pointed out. "And there are just three of us and five of them. Besides, what if the amulet isn't being worn around the neck? It could be in someone's pocket or something."

"To answer your last concern first, I'm sure it's around someone's neck," I said. "I've been studying Indian myths with Mr. Mackenzie's help. If the amulet was designed to be part of a necklace - and we know it was - then that may be the only way it works right. I think it's a safe bet it's on a necklace."

I waited for them to nod in agreement before continuing. "As far as who is wearing it, I'm pretty sure it isn't Jenny. After all, I'm her sister now. I've been in her room and had a chance to go through her stuff. It isn't there, and I've never seen her wearing it."

"Stacy is still the best bet," Vickie said confidently. "After all, I gave the amulet to her."

"Yes," I agreed, "but Karen and Pam are good candidates. They seem to hate guys so much I wouldn't be surprised to find they are the ones who came up with the transformation as punishment."

"I think Karen's a dyke," Sherry chimed in. "She started chumming around with Pam last year. Neither one of them ever seem to date."

"Wrong, I dated Karen a couple of times," Vickie said. "She's a feminist but she isn't gay. I don't know about Pam though."

"And there's Stephanie," I continued, trying to get back on the subject.

Vickie shook her head. "I doubt it. Steph is just not the type. She's a real bookworm. I guess her folks teach over at the community college, so it's probably natural. Besides, she really doesn't seem to be a leader."

"That's true," I admitted. I had observed that the five girls were like a committee. Karen and Pam usually had one opinion while Stacy and Jenny had another. Stephanie was the peacemaker - the tie-breaker one might say. She never seemed to have an opinion of her own. Besides, she, along with Jenny and Stacy, had been pretty decent to me. My personal guess was that either Karen or Pam now had the amulet. I told that to Sherry and Vickie.

"I don't know," Vickie said slowly. "I'm still betting on Stacy."

No matter who we bet on, we were betting a lot and we all knew it. There were only three of us and five of them. If we didn't get the amulet quickly, the demon would have the upper hand. Not for the first time I mentally cursed that we weren't in our old male bodies. Then the three of us would be more than a match for five girls. Not now, though. Vickie and Sherry were as average in strength as the other five girls were, and I was even smaller and younger. I'd be lucky to handle just one of them. So if we guessed wrong, we were toast.

It was finally decided that Vickie would take on Stacy and Sherry would take on Karen. I would take Pam, leaving Stephanie and Jenny alone. As the de facto leader of our little band of demon stoppers, I would keep an eye on Stephanie for any sign that she had the amulet. If possible, I'd enlist Jenny's help, but even though Jenny had her suspicions, I doubted if she would come to our aid. The others were still her friends. Besides, we all suspected the demon had possession of all of them during the magic sessions. Jenny might not be able to help us even if she wanted to.

I thought about telling Jenny, but I was afraid that she wouldn't be able to keep the information from the others. Something strange happened when they were together in that old shack, and I suspected they were linked telepathically. What one of them knew, they would all know.

We drove out to the line shack about nine that evening. Well, when I say we drove there, I mean we drove as close as we dared. We parked Vickie's car on a deserted lane that was barely two visible ruts in the desert, but a small rise covered with a few bushes protected it from view. Then we walked back to the shack.

Even the walk was a constant reminder of the disadvantages of my new body. Shorter than the other two, I had to take more steps just to keep up, and although my legs were strong from playing a lot of volleyball, they were not the legs of a prospective college football player I had once been blessed with. To make it worse, we were wearing jeans against the evening chill, but they were girl's jeans - tight and designed more to show off our legs and butts than to be practical. At least I had decent running shoes on, even if the laces were pink. Also, by the time we reached the shack, my breasts were a little sore. They had been growing some and I wasn't used to the additional weight, even in one of my new bras. I felt like a cow.

We had beaten the girls to the shack, so we hid out in the desert behind a clump of bushes. None of us were particularly comfortable sitting there on the rocky ground, but we managed. None of us mentioned it but I know our new feminine personas were a little disturbed at the thought of all the nasty little beasties that had to be sharing the ground with us. As guys, we probably wouldn't have even thought about them.

The first three of the five girls showed up about ten thirty. Jenny, Stacy and Stephanie had come out together. That meant Pam and Karen would be bringing the guest of honor.

"Maybe we should take them on now," Sherry suggested in a whisper. "It's just three on three."

"Yes," I replied, "but we don't know how the demon communicates with them. It's possible that they're in communication with each other all the time. If we take them on now, the demon may be warned if Karen or Pam have the amulet. We can't take that chance."

It was tempting though. We could hear them inside the shack, using powerful flashlights as they quietly prepared the site. They seemed to suspect nothing, so we could have taken them on. Even though we were now girls, we would still remember how to fight like guys. That would give us an edge. But I just kept thinking that if Karen or Pam had the amulet, we were screwed.

So there was no Plan B. We just had to wait patiently for the others to show up.

"Meg!" Vickie whispered.

"What?"

"I think I just felt a snake crawl past my leg."

As Steve, I doubted if Vickie would have been so terrified of a snake, but she was clearly frightened. I looked next to her. "It's just a piece of brush," I told her, flicking it aside. "Besides, snakes don't move around much at night. It's too cold for them."

"Quiet, you guys!" Sherry whispered. "Somebody's coming."

The three girls in the shack rushed quickly to an approaching car. When the engine and lights were shut off, I could make out the forms of two girls. It had to be Pam and Karen. The other girls went outside to meet the car. All five of them wrestled with a still form in the back seat. That had to be Charlie. Well, as Sherlock Holmes would have said, the game was afoot.

Once they had Charlie inside, we quietly sneaked up on the shack. The girls inside were making enough noise positioning Charlie that they didn't notice our approach. We were inside the shack only a few feet from them when Pam looked up suddenly. "We have company!" she yelled.

Poor Charlie. Jenny, Stacy and Karen had been struggling to move him into position. Startled, they dropped him, his head striking the dirty wooden floor with a clunk. At least he wouldn't get cold. They hadn't managed to remove his clothing yet.

"Remember the plan," I told Vickie and Sherry, relieved as they moved slightly away from me. They were far enough away to make it difficult for the girls to swarm over us, yet close enough that we could help each other.

Then, the unexpected happened. We could suddenly sense another presence in the room. I suppose we had imagined the demon would only speak through the wearer of the amulet, but the creature apparently had a presence of its own.

"Meg!" Jenny suddenly cried. "Honey, get out of here. This isn't anything that concerns you."

Even if I had been willing to take her advice, it was too late. A... something washed over me. Suddenly, it was as if I was two places at once. I could see everyone in the room clearly, but everyone was moving very slowly as if the air around them had suddenly become as thick as syrup. Superimposed over the normal scene was a gray-brown landscape, flat and featureless with a sky that seemed to be illuminated by whitish clouds against a stygian backdrop.

"Little fools!" a booming voice came from all around me. "Little bitches! Did you really think you could stop me?"

I sensed Vickie and Sherry at my side, but I couldn't turn to see them. I wanted to reach out to them and hold their hands, for I was truly frightened. I had never expected anything like this.

"It isn't enough that you defiled my resting place with your foul urine," he growled, confirming my theory as to why he had done this to us. "Now you seek to interfere in my plans for this other one. You won't stop me, you know. Soon, he will join you in your femininity. Like you, he will bleed each month and crave the touch of a male. I was going to make his need much stronger than yours, making him the slut he deserves to be, but now that you have joined us, I will magnanimously do the same for you..."

I forced myself forward through the thick air, focussing on Pam who watched my efforts with a combination of shock and delight. She was shocked at our very presence, but delighted that the demon had even worse plans for us. That meant they could all hear his voice, or at least sense his intent. I looked over at the other girls as best I could. There was shock on Stacy and Jenny's faces, and I thought I saw a tear in Jenny's eye. Her mouth seemed to slowly form the words "No, Meg!"

"See what I have in store for you..." the demon purred, and suddenly I felt a warmth flow over my body. My nipples began to swell, becoming sensitive, and my vagina was suddenly wet. It felt hollow, almost like the stomach of a hungry man, roiling in the anticipation of a satisfying meal. I began to feel a need growing inside me - a need that could be satisfied in only one way.

Still I pushed on. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just barely see Vickie; she was reaching out toward a startled Stacy. Then, to my other side I saw Sherry targeting Karen in the same way. Pam was directly ahead of me now. Yet as we approached our goals, I could almost sense mirth in the demon. It was as if it knew our efforts were in vain. It was confident, vindictive, and amused. Something was wrong.

It was becoming hard to think. The demon had gotten our sexual juices flowing. But why? Why was he taunting us now? Why not just make the changes to us, make us into mindless sluts, and then do its taunting. No, it was doing this to us to keep us from finding out where the amulet was. I tried to look at each of the girls. Each of them had been surprised by our attack. Each had no idea we would do this. Why? Because they didn't really understand what was happening. All except...

I had nearly made it to Pam, but I knew in that instant that Pam didn't have the amulet. But I knew who did.

With every ounce of strength that I could muster, I veered off, away from Pam. Now it was the demon's turn to be surprised - first surprised and then shocked. I dived forward, my body suspended in the heavy air and neatly reached beneath the neckline of Stephanie's blouse and plucked the hidden amulet from her neck.

My ears were pierced by a sudden scream. Each of the girls in the coven screamed suddenly and loudly, but it was the scream in my mind from the demon that was the most unsettling of all. It could know fear. It had been in my mind and knew that I had the power and the will to destroy it, and it was frightened. It spoke in my mind in gibberish at first, as if the loss of the coven had robbed it of its power of speech. Then, I began to detect words from it as I landed painfully on the old wooden floor.

"I can make you powerful!" it chattered. "I can make you rich!"

"But can you make me a man again?" I asked it with my mind. "Were you lying about that, too?"

"No... no... I can't make you a man again," it said. "At least not right away. Later, later I can... when I have absorbed more male essence..."

So that was how it gained power. It robbed males of their masculinity and digested it like a rich meal. In my readings, I had found many Indian shaman were feminized. Maybe it wasn't just an affectation like the experts believed. Maybe their contact with the Spirit World took little bits of their maleness from them. But this creature was even worse. It sucked all the masculinity out until there was only a female remaining. Now, to save its miserable existence, it was proposing to rob still more males until it had the power to restore me - if it wasn't lying about that.

Well, I would love to be male again, even as I write these words, but the cost was too high. My life as a girl wasn't at all unpleasant, even if it wasn't what I had expected. It certainly wasn't worth the sexual lives of other guys just to change me back.

"I will prove my word," it said in a fear-choked mental voice. "There - your friend. No one remembers what he did last night. Even he has forgotten it. Only those in this room remember it. You see, I can help you as well - you and your friends."

I didn't say another mental word to him. I wordlessly reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled a small silver cross out. The demon began to screech mindlessly. I felt absolutely no sympathy for it as I dropped the amulet to the ground and plunged the cross onto it, breaking the charm into a dozen useless fragments.

Suddenly, the room was quiet, except for the soft whimpering of a girl. It took me a moment to realize the girl was me.

Charlie was out for the count. According to Jenny, it would be morning before he woke up. Since he was at Ground Zero with the rest of us, we suspected he would remember his sexual attack and being kidnapped by Karen and Pam. But he would probably think it was all a vivid dream since no one would remember - or in our case, admit to remember - the incident. We'd have him home safe, sound, and still male before any of that happened though.

Jenny held me until I stopped crying. I couldn't explain to the others what I had gone through mentally wrestling with the demon. I think only Stephanie would understand since she had been in contact with the amulet as the demon gained power. Stacy and Steve - or rather Vickie - hadn't held the amulet after the demon truly awakened.

Poor Stephanie. She had taken the amulet from Stacy since her father was something of an expert on Southwestern history at our community college where he taught the subject. She never gave it to him, though. From the fragments of her story that she was able to tell, she had threaded the amulet onto a necklace and put it around her neck. The demon began to mentally assault her from that moment on. She wasn't strong enough to fight him.

For all practical purposes, there had been no Stephanie for several months. The demon, with access to her memories, had dominated her. So since the other girls in the coven were often evenly divided on how to use the magic they had discovered, the demon - as Stephanie - would make the decisions acting as a tie-breaker.

A somewhat subdued Karen and Pam had already left with Stephanie. They were going to tell her parents that Steph would be staying with them overnight at Karen's house. It appeared that she would be alright, but her mind had been so scrambled by the demon that she would need some help for a few days. She was certainly in no condition to go home on her own.

"It's funny," Jenny told us as we buried the remains of the amulet, wrapped together with the silver cross that had dampened the demon's power, "but we never knew we were being manipulated. Do you suppose the demon was also planting ideas in our minds?"

I could see the worry on her face. She needed some assurance that the demon had not snaked into her own mind and the minds of her other friends like it had seeped into Stephanie's mind. I wasn't sure, but I said confidently, "No, Jen. I think you had to have direct contact with the amulet." Like I had, I thought with a shudder.

"Maybe we should say a prayer or something," Stacy suggested. "I mean, we buried the thing with a cross."

Personally, I suspected that the cross really worked more because it was silver than because of the religion it represented. But I supposed a prayer wouldn't hurt. Stacy did the honors on that.

When we were finished, we loaded Charlie into Stacy's car since it was closest. Then, we all caravaned back to Charlie's house. The rest of his family was sound asleep as we half carried-half dragged our poor friend to his room. By some miracle, we did it without waking anybody up.

"Guys," Stacy began when we had all gathered back at our cars, "Jenny and I were talking. We... we can't say how sorry we are for what we... we did to you."

Vickie answered for us. "Let's talk about it some other time, okay?"

For the others, that "other time" is yet to come. However, Jenny was waiting up for me in my room when I got home.

"Meg... I..." That was as far as she got before breaking into tears. Well, she had held me earlier when I had cried. I guessed it was my turn now.

"Oh, Meg," she gasped between sobs, "I ruined your life."

I didn't know what to say. It was true on one level. The Dan Korby that should have gone on to college, played football maybe even at the pro level, married, and fathered a family would never exist. My real parents were strangers now. Well, not strangers I guess, but they were just the parents of my boyfriend. Whatever I was to have achieved in life as Dan Korby was lost forever.

Of course, on another level, who was to say that my life as Meg Dawson was going to be any less rich and rewarding? I was bright, attractive, personable, and in good health. I had, as the old saying goes, my whole life ahead of me. Sure, Dan was still part of me and always would be, but in some ways, I was still a guy in a girl's body.

"How can I ever make up for what I've done to you?" Jenny sobbed.

"Don't worry, Jen," I soothed. "We'll get through all this somehow."

I gave her a goodnight hug and sent her off to her room. I even gave her a wan smile to let her know it would be all right. She gave me one in return.

So here I am, unable to sleep, writing these words as they are still fresh in my mind. I feel as if my life has changed again. While Vickie, Sherry and I were fighting the magic of the demon, I had a purpose. I could almost forget about who and what I had become since I was wrapped up in the good fight. Now, I'm not Megan, Demon Slayer anymore. I'm just Meg Dawson, nearly sixteen and as feminine as a bikini wax. I guess I'll just have to learn to live with it.

Thursday, 10 June, 1999

Oh my god, I don't believe this! I forgot all about this diary. I remember back in my Sophomore year when I made the last entries about defeating the demon. Then, I carefully placed the diary where only I would ever find it - in the bottom of a sweater bag in the back of my closet. I remember worrying about what would happen if someone found the diary and went looking for the amulet. I mean, we hid it well when we buried it, but some fool might go looking for it, fascinated by the magic and sure that he could control the demon rather than the other way around. Sure, the amulet was broken, but it was still magical. Maybe even the fragments were powerful. We wanted to make sure no one ever found it again.

Then, I got on with my life. I forgot all about the diary until this morning when I was cleaning out my room for the last time. I picked it up and read it from start to finish. Did I really write all of that?

Well, maybe I should cut to the chase. I'm going to keep this diary in a safe place with the idea that maybe someday my children or grandchildren will stumble upon it. They won't believe a word of it, of course. Who of them could believe that their mother or grandmother had ever been male? I find it hard to believe myself.

Anyhow, I need to finish the story. Since whoever reads this will probably think it's just fiction, so maybe I should call it the epilogue.

I suppose I should mention Stephanie first, since she was such a wreck after that night. In fact, as nearly as the doctors could tell, she had a nervous breakdown. It took time, but she recovered enough to graduate with her class and go on to college. The last I heard of her, she was living with an aunt in Waco, Texas, and was going to school at Baylor. Good for her. I've always felt sorry for her. In many ways, she was the biggest victim of this whole affair. The demon only touched my mind, but it was in constant contact with Stephanie for months. I shudder to think what she must have gone through.

Things in Rio del Diablo settled back to normal after we buried the amulet. Charlie must have awakened the next morning thinking it was all some kind of pizza-induced nightmare. He never mentioned it, even to Sherry. That's right - that Sherry. She had dated him mostly to keep an eye on him, but after a while, something clicked and the two of them got married last year. I was even Maid of Honor! They're both in college up at Fresno State now and doing well.

Vickie is married, too. And yes, it was to Bill Wisdom. Although Bill could have had a shot at the pros, he really wasn't interested, so he decided not to go on to college. Vickie is taking some courses at the local community college, though. Vickie has a one year old girl now and Bill works for his father at a local construction company. I've even baby sat for her a couple of times. Little Brenda is just the sweetest little girl. Vickie is so lucky - and happy.

As for the other girls, Karen and Pam left town, and not together. We always suspected they had a thing for each other, but I think it was just more a dislike of men rather than a liking for women. None of us know where they went and frankly, none of us care.

The "us" in addition to Vickie, Sherry and me are Stacy and Jennifer. We all became good friends. Stacy was even Vickie's Maid of Honor. I was really sorry to be two years younger than all of them. When they all graduated and got married - in Vickie's case - or went on to college as the rest of them did, I felt pretty lonely. Thank god for Jake or I wouldn't have had anyone to talk to.

Speaking of Jake, that's why I'm cleaning out my room. Jake and I are getting married on Saturday! I can't believe it myself. Jenny will be my Maid of Honor, and Jake has asked her fiancé to be in the wedding party. Then, Jake and I are off for San Diego where he'll major in business at San Diego State and play football on scholarship. I may have never made it to the NFL, but it's a good bet my husband will. As for me, I'll be going to school, too. Mr. Mackenzie sparked a real love for Southwestern history in me, so I plan to major in history and teach just like him.

One final note before I pack this diary away for good. When I began this diary, I said I wanted to always remember my life as Dan. Well, I meant that then I and mean it now. Only I just want to remember him. What I said and thought over two years ago is the proverbial water under the bridge. Sure, I still miss football, but I have volleyball now. As I learned to control my body, I found out that with a little effort, I wasn't a bad athlete. I grew a little taller that first year and a little stronger. Although I lacked the natural ability I had enjoyed as Dan, my new reflexes made me a terrific volleyball player. My last two years I was on the varsity team for girl's volleyball, and I'm going to San Diego State on an athletic scholarship just like Jake.

And sure, I missed my family when I was transformed, but now I have them back. Saturday, they'll all be my in-laws. They've always liked me and told me it was just like I was part of the family. If only they knew how true that was.

And as for being a girl, I've had the opportunity to develop from a slightly angular fifteen year old girl to a fully developed young woman, and frankly, I found I actually enjoyed the ride. Every time I got a little more dressed up and my figure became a little more mature, guys that had barely noticed me before suddenly began to watch Jake and me with envious eyes. I found I enjoyed that.

And of course, most of all, I've enjoyed being with Jake. It's ironic that it took my former younger brother to bring out the woman in me. But he did. It seemed like every time I was with Jake, I began to feel more natural as a girl until I really didn't want to think about being male again.

I suppose my children or grandchildren if they read this some day will wonder if Jake and I ever did experience sex like the doctored entry in my diary describes. Well, let's just say that if we did, do you think I'd tell you? Let's just say I'm looking forward to Saturday night and leave it at that.

The End