Story -- Slow Justice

Slow Justice by Ellie Dauber

"Mr. Foreman, have you reached a verdict?" The jury foreman rose. He was an older man in a plaid work shirt and jeans. He looked nervously about the court room, his eyes never resting on Jenny or her parents sitting nervously behind the District Attorney's desk.

Jenny Benton was a slender seventeen year old, her blonde hair done in a pony tail that hung down well below her shoulders. She wore a pale blue blouse with matching skirt and belt, light blue sneakers with matching socks, rather than hose and heels. The outfit was intended to make her look even younger and more vulnerable than she was.

Jenny was attractive enough, if a little too thin. (She was a late bloomer whose body hadn't yet caught up with those of many of her classmates.) Now her eyes were filling with tears behind her silvered glasses.

"We have, Your Honor. In the matter of the State versus Russ Walsh, we find the defendant 'Not Guilty'." There was pandemonium in the court room. A few people, mostly women, looked shocked, but most of those present cheered.

A few men broke into the "Ellwood City High Fight Song".

The Judge pounded his gavel for silence. After a moment or two, most of the noise stopped. The Judge faced the jury box. "Thank you." he said sourly. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you are dismissed with the Court's thanks. Case dismissed." The judge banged his gavel for emphasis. Then he rose and left the court room, a look of disgust on his face.

Jenny was sobbing, holding her face in her hands. She heard her mother get up to talk to somebody. Then she heard an "Ahem", and looked through her fingers. It was Russ, an insincere smile on his face. He was about six-two and looked like he had just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting. His chestnut hair was cut short and fashionably styled; his tanned and muscular body dressed in a sport brown sports jacket and slacks, a "sincere" tie in the Ellwood City High school colors over an off-white shirt, and dark brown loafers. His dark gray eyes seemed cold and empty of any emotion.

"I -- my lawyer -- um -- thought I should come over and tell you that I'm not mad at you."

"Not mad at her," Jenny wanted to scream. As it was, she trembled, hardly able to speak.

Now Russ bent low, patting her hand as if trying to console her. "Next time, be more cooperative. I'm the big football hero. Who'll take the word of a bimbo like you over mine."

He had raped her! Then, when she had gotten the courage to go to the police, he'd not only denied it, he'd gotten two other members of the team to lie for him. He admitted taking her out, but he said that he'd left her off at the McDonald's about 9 PM. He claimed that she had demanded that he go steady with her, threatening to cause trouble if he didn't. Nobody had heard their conversation, but Max Snyder and Billy Jackson said that they'd run into him at the arcade. The three claimed to have spent the rest of the evening playing video games.

And he'd gotten away with it. The jury had taken the word of the boy who had just lead his school's team to the state football championship over a mousy little girl who seldom dated. He'd even had the nerve to say that he'd liked her. He said that he had been attracted to a shy girl who didn't go after him like so many of the girls in the school. He'd been shocked when she tried to blackmail him, and he hoped that she could get counseling for whatever was bothering her.

The bile rose in Jenny's stomach. She grabbed for her purse and ran for the court room doors without a word. She was still crying ten minutes later in the Lawyers' Lounge when she heard someone calling her name.

She looked up, her brown eyes filled with tears. Someone handed her a lacy handkerchief.

It was one of the Weaver sisters. Three woman who'd lived in a large house at the edge of town for nobody knew how long. They never seemed to age, always appearing in their late thirty or early forties. On the few occasions that anybody asked, they claimed it was a combination of good genes, clean living, and enough money to afford a really good cosmetologist.

Jenny recognized the woman as Chloe Weaver. Chloe had been a leader for Jenny's old Brownie troop. She was a dark blonde, about 5 ft., 5, with a still trim figure, her hair trimmed into a short wave of tight curls. She looked like a well-to-do business woman, attractively dressed in a navy business dress, pale hose, and matching navy heels. Her jewelry consisted of a broach that looked like a stylized silver spindle, a couple of matching bracelets, and pearl earrings.

Now she stood over the young girl smiling encouragingly. "I know, Dear. He wronged you, and the Law let him get away with it."

"Why? Why did they do it, Ms. Weaver."

"People can be very foolish, Dear. They want to believe the people that they admire. Even when they should know better."

"And now he'll get away with it." A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Oh, Ms. Weaver, now that he got away with raping me, he'll be even worse, and nobody will ever believe me again. Not about anything."

"Jenny, I've known you since you were eight years old. I believed you in the court room, and I'll always believe you -- and believe in you."

"Thank you, Ms. Weaver. I know my parents feel the same, but to the rest of the town, I'm a fool -- or a tramp -- or both."

"Nonsense. Time heals everything. Threads may break, but the healthy one will come back, stronger then ever. It's Friday afternoon. You go home, and I promise that things will be better on Monday." She sat down next to Jenny and hugged her. Jenny was surprised at how comforting it felt.

"Now, I hear your mother and father out in the hall, calling you. You go home with them, have a good rest, and see if I'm not right."

Jenny rose and handed back the handkerchief. "I'm not sure I believe you, but thanks for making me feel better." She walked out, leaving Chloe Weaver alone in the Lounge.

"Nice promise," said Leslie Weaver suddenly appearing beside her. "How do you intend to keep it?" As always, she carried the knitting bag that was almost a town joke. She was no taller than her sister, but with a more lush figure and long brunette hair that draped halfway down her back. She wore a pale pink knit dress, dark hose, and low heeled sandals.

"There's always my way," said Andrea Weaver, also materializing. She held a small gilt nail scissors in her hand. Andrea was taller and slimmer than her sisters with jet black hair done in a tight bun, a few loose curls framing her round face, and dark eyes. She wore a white blouse with a black cameo at the throat, a knee-length black skirt with matching hose and shoes.

"No," said Chloe. "I think a re-weaving is called for. I'll get started on him Sunday night. I have something special in mind."

"I think I know what you're planning," said Leslie. It's a bit of a drastic change in the pattern, but I think it's only fair."

"Are we agreed then," asked Chloe.

"It should be more interesting than just a simple cut," said Andrea. "Cut 'it' off, rather than cut him off." She snipped the scissors dramatically, a strange smile on her face. Laughing, the three women disappeared from the Lounge.

Late Sunday afternoon, Russ, Max, and Billy were tossing a frisbee in Highmore Park. It was a warm day for late Fall, and the three boys were dressed in nothing warmer than sweat shirts and jeans.

"So what are you doing now, Russ?" Billy asked.

"About what?"

"About that bitch, Jenny. She could've cost you that scholarship to State, if anybody'd believed her story."

"Hell, man," Max said, "Who's gonna believe the word of that little mouse against the great Russ Miller, boy hero and football star?" All three laughed.

"Well, my lawyer said not to go anywhere near her. I figure to wait a little while -- you know -- keep mum. Then I'll make like I'm sorry she felt so desperate to be popular that she tried to trap me into dating her. Maybe one of you can say something nasty about her, and I'll defend her. Nobody's gonna want to have anything to do with her. She be alone and confused. I'll bide my time. Cozy up to her. Take her out again and -- finish what I started." He made a fist and thrust it forward in a short jab to illustrate his point.

"Russ Miller," somebody -- a woman -- called. "May I see you for a moment? The three boys looked around. Chloe Weaver was standing near them under an oak tree, though they hadn't seen her approach through the mostly opened space of the park. The three boys stared at her appreciatively. She wore a brown blouse and slacks outfit that, while not overly tight, did nothing to hide her attractive figure and long shapely legs. With her tight mass of blonde curls, she looked like a slightly older Meg Ryan.

Russ strutted over, a big dopey grin on his face. He'd heard stories about older women being sexually interested in high school jocks. He'd also seen Ms. Weaver around town. For an old broad, she looked pretty hot. Even if she wanted him for some other, simple errand, he'd do his best to try and wind up in bed with her. And if he didn't, well, he could always claim that he had.

"You wanted me for something, Ms. Weaver?"

"Yes, Russ. I wanted to give you one last chance to admit what you did to Jenny. "

"How did -- what do you mean, what I did? I didn't do anything to her. The jury said so."

"We both know that the jury was wrong. You raped her, then you and your friends lied about it. Admit it now, and I'll see that your punishment is minor. Deny it again and --- "

"Admit it! Admit what? Lady, if you had any real proof, you'd have shown up in court with it." Russ was mad now and didn't care that he was admitting the truth to this meddlesome bitch. "I thought you might be interested in a little fun, but I don't think you even know how."

"'A little fun!' Why you impudent child. You've been strutting around thinking with your prick for years. Well, threads can be rewound with a different warp, my lad. You just threw away your last chance, and now you won't have your little 'Johnson' to think with for much longer." She made a sudden gesture with her arms and grabbed him suddenly at the shoulders. He felt what seemed like a mild electric shock go through his body, and he grimaced, closing his eyes. When he opened them, Chloe had disappeared.

Russ shook his head trying to figure out what had happened. Then he walked back to his two friends.

"What you go over to the tree for, man," Max asked.

"What you mean? 'Old lady Weaver' called me over for something."

"Old lady -- oh, one of those Weaver broads. They're no older than my Mom," Billy said. "They're a hellava lot better looking, though."

"That's for sure," Max said, "but I haven't seen any of them since we got here. You sure you're okay."

"Yeah," Russ said, running his fingers through his hair. His skin still tingled from whatever that Weaver woman had done to him, but the sensation was fading. "I guess I'm still a little stressed out from the trial."

"Hey, man," Billy laughed. "What stress? You won, didn't you? Now, think fast." He tossed the frisbee towards Russ, and the game began again.

That night, Russ had a strange dream. He was standing in a room that looked like a temple from HERCULES or XENA. The Weaver sisters were up on some kind of platform wearing flowing white robes. He tried to move or to say something, but he was unable to do either. It wasn't that he was paralyzed, he just didn't seem to want to badly enough.

Chloe Weaver stepped down from the platform and walked over to him. She was carrying some sort of a top hanging down from a mass of loose wool, spinning slowly and twisting it into a thread. She stopped the top and set it spinning in the opposite direction.

"Behold your life, Russ Walsh. The thread unwinds to take a new shape. Poor Jenny's trial lasted five days, so your life will take that long to find its new way. You will know what you were, what you might have been. But no one else will."

Now Leslie Weaver came down from the platform to stand beside her sister. "And as the thread of your life takes its new shape, the pattern of your life will itself reshape to match that new form. The changes will happen as you sleep. You will know that it has happened, but, to your friends and your family, everything will have always been as you find them anew each morning."

Russ's body began to tingle again as it had that afternoon. He felt himself changing beneath his clothes, but he couldn't tell into what. Then he saw his pajama top moving as something grew on his chest. He pulled open the top to see two shapely breasts, areolas big as half dollars, growing larger even as he watched. He heard the Weavers laughing as he changed. He screamed and woke up.

It was almost 7:30 by his bedside clock, and the room was half lit by the rising sun. It looked different somehow. It took Russ a few moments to realize that his framed sports trophies from a childhood of Little League and Pee-Wee Football championships were missing from the walls, replaced by posters of a couple of rock stars he'd never much cared for.

"What the hell," he said jumping out of bed. Then came the second surprise, the room was bigger. No, he was smaller. A good three or four inches shorter than his former six-two. And when he looked in the mirror over his dresser, he realized that he was no longer the muscular "hunk" of the day before. He was still in fairly good shape, but there was no real evidence of the years of daily work-outs that he'd used to get and keep his body in shape.

His chestnut hair was a bit longer, hanging down over his ears a little. Even his face looked a little different. The bump on his nose, the result of a bad play in a school yard football game when he was twelve, was gone.

The really strange part was that his pajamas fit him as if he'd always been this size. Opening a dresser drawer, he had the feeling that the rest of his clothes would be the same.

Russ got another shock when he stripped off his pajamas. His body was not only as slender as he had thought, but it was also almost completely hairless. All that was left of a mass of body hair that got him the nickname "Kong" was a thin patch on his chest and a few sparse hairs on his arms.

He dropped his pants to check out his legs, but never looked down that far. His penis looked smaller. He'd never actually measured it, but it did seem to have shrunken some. Maybe -- he grabbed a Penthouse from where it was hidden in the middle of a pile of sports magazines and opened it to the centerfold. As he stared at the picture and -- to quote the old joke -- "took things well in hand", he could feel himself getting stiff. He continued stroking, bringing himself near to climax. Then he looked down again. He was definitely smaller, even when fully erect.

Especially when fully erect. What had happened to him? He vaguely remembered some sort of dream; him and the Weaver sisters. People always said that they were some kind of witches. They must of done it.

He'd been in some crazy room. One of them -- no, a couple of them had said or done something, but he couldn't really remember what. And the more he tried, the vaguer the memory got. Finally, all he could remember was that there had been a dream, and that the Weaver sisters were in it.

His mother knocked at the door. "Russ, you had better hurry. The bus comes in thirty minutes.

The bus? Russ usually rode to school with Billy and Max. Then a new memory popped into his head. No, he didn't. Billy and Max were jocks, the stars of the football team, and he was just a third rate scrub. Wasn't he? He remembered being the quarterback, winning the championship. But he also remembered having to work hard just to get on the team and barely hanging on as third string lineman.

Russ resolved to figure things out later and dressed for school. Breakfast was waiting downstairs, cereal, milk, and juice instead of the protein drink he normally had drunk. "Mom, where's my proto-mash?"

"His mother looked up from her coffee. "Did you want to try one of those weird supplements, dear? I don't think I know it."

"It's a training table drink," he said in surprise. He'd been using it for two years instead of eating a regular breakfast, and now his mother had never heard of it.

"Are you thinking about going out for the basketball team again this year?" His father asked. "I think I've read about that stuff, but I'm not sure how much good it'll do."

"Try out?" He made it sound like that would be a problem. He was a three letter man, football, basketball, and track. "No," said a new memory that suddenly popped into his mind. He had played JV basketball his freshman year, but hadn't really been good enough for the varsity squad. After half a season on the bench, he'd been dropped. He had been on that year's football team, but now he was third stringer who had only played in four games. And without him -- or who he used to be -- the team hadn't gotten past the district play-offs.

Things were getting really strange. He still had all his old memories, but they were beginning to feel like they were about somebody else. Whenever something came up, a new one popped into his head, and they seemed as real -- no, more real -- than the old ones.

He was still trying to resolve the two sets of memories, when his mother looked at the clock near the stove. "7:45, dear, The bus will be coming by in five minutes. You'd best get ready." Russ took one last drink of milk and stood up to get his books. He was waiting at the curb when the bus came.

The bus was about two-thirds full when Russ climbed on board, and he was walking back slowly, looking for an empty seat. Suddenly he froze. Jenny Benton was sitting two rows down from where he stood, calmly chatting with Irene Roth. He'd expected her to skip a few days after the trial, but she was just sitting there talking as if she didn't seem to have a care in the world.

There was a seat in the row behind them on the opposite side, and he went to it. Jenny and Irene hardly noticed him. as he walked by. Once he sat down, he caught himself staring at them. Irene noticed. Embarrassed, he turned away and watched the houses roll by,

"I think Russ Walsh has a crush on you," Irene said. She was trying to keep her voice low, but Russ heard. He continued to look out the window but listened closely.

"He's a nice enough boy, but I'm more interested in jocks. I've known him since we were little, so I guess I might go out with him."

"Might," Irene said. "Jenny, you're so shy; you hardly ever date. It took me a week to talk you into going double with me and Tom to the dance." The two girls giggled, and the conversation turned to a discussion of the upcoming school dance that Friday night.

Russ was astounded. "Nice boy?" "Might go out with him?" She damned well had gone out with him. Then she wouldn't cooperate, and things had gotten way out of hand. Didn't she remember?

No, he suddenly realized. She didn't. There was nothing even close to what he knew had happened among his new memories. In this crazy world he'd woken up in, Jenny had never been raped.

That, at least, was the first good thing to come out of this weirdness. If it had never happened, then she wasn't a threat to him any more. And, if she "might go out with him", then there was a chance of nailing her again. Maybe even getting her to cooperate this time. Russ decided that maybe he'd just play along with whatever was happening.

He was smiling one of "old Russ's" smile when he got off the bus. The smile disappeared when he noticed that there was no "1998 State Football Champions" banner over the entrance door. No trophy in the case near his locker, either. Russ' confidence was shaken, but he decided to ride things out. He didn't have much of a choice anyway, but he was still cocky enough to think that he could get his own life back.

There weren't many surprises the rest of the day. Fortunately, he was taking the same classes as before. Doing better in history and English, too, it seemed. And his new memories included that extra knowledge, so he could keep up in those classes. He still had the same friends, too, though the relationships had changed.

Max and Billy, for instance, had gone from being his best friends to more casual acquaintances. They'd still all grown up together, but they were still successful athletes and hung out with the other jocks in the school. Since, in his new history, he had just managed to make the team he was tolerated by them, but hardly a part of their clique.

On the other hand, he had been accepted by what the jocks had called "the straights", the regular kids who made up the majority of the students at Ellwood City High. He'd grown up with most of them, too, but he'd always preferred to hang out with the other jocks.

At Lunch Period, a group of "straights" had called him over to join them. Again, a new memory popped into his mind. These were the friends he normally ate with: Al Sachs, Steve Porter, Rick Klein, and Ted Grossman.

Russ slid into the booth, unloading his tray and putting down it in with the others in a stack at the far end of the table. In a few minutes, he was joining in the conversation, joking about the upcoming dance.

"You taking anybody?" Steve asked.

In his old life, Russ had pretty much had his choice of any girl at the school. He'd even suggested picking one and asking her to be his "steady" to help his case at the trial. His lawyer had said no, that it was too obvious a move. For the same reason, he hadn't asked anyone to go to the dance. He'd planned to ask someone by today. He just hadn't gotten around to asking, when this -- whatever it was -- happened.

He wasn't "King Jock" any more, but he was still Russ Walsh. He must have asked somebody. He waited for a new memory of who the lucky girl was in this version of his life. None came. "I don't think so," he said, shrugging his shoulders. He decided to change the subject, more unsure now of what he had become. "How about you guys?"

Ted was going with Ellen Weiss, and Steve had asked Becky Landers. The others were going stag, and Rick suggested that they meet at Al's and ride over together.

"Gee, I don't know," Al said. "If I get lucky, I don't want to have to get a ride home with you losers."

"As if," Rick said. They all laughed, and the three boys agreed to the idea. That settled, they started arguing over who would be the wild card teams in the upcoming NFL play-offs. When the bell ending the period rang, they went to their separate classes, promising to meet later.

Nothing too much out of the ordinary happened to Russ the rest of the day. He spent an hour or so after school looking for the Weaver sisters. He still remembered a little about the dream, and he was sure that they were responsible for whatever had happened to him. He was equally sure that he could get them to give him his old life back. But, no matter how hard he looked, there was no sign of them. Still, somehow, he had a felling that they were nearby. They were hiding from him somehow, watching him. And laughing.

Still, he went to bed that night thinking that the surprises were pretty much over.

He was wrong.

An alarm clock woke him the next morning at 6:45. An alarm clock? He hadn't used one in years, relying on his natural body clock most mornings. The surprise came when he reached out to shut the damned thing off.

His arm looked thinner than he ever remembered it. Now he was wide awake. He jumped out of bed and stared at his reflection in his dresser mirror. He was another three inches shorter and skinny as a rail with straight lusterless brown hair now hanging down past his shoulders.. He pulled off his pajama top and stared at his new body. It was bad enough being skinny -- and hairless, he noticed -- but there wasn't any muscle tone either. Just a mass of pale, pink flab. Oh, Lord! He was a geek!

He looked around the room. It was pretty much the same as yesterday, just a couple more rock posters on the wall. He must have been a real fan. There were three or four t-shirts for the same groups in his drawer. He put one on, plus a pair of black jeans. He still looked pretty much like a "straight", no earrings or tattoos, hair long rather than razor cut into strange designs. But now he was definitely leaning towards "rocker", rather than jock.

He closed his eyes and tried to search through his new memories. He had a feeling that they had changed the same time that his body had, and he wanted to see if he could catch any more revisions. But he still remembered agreeing to go to the dance stag with Al and Rick. He felt a little more in control, knowing somehow that, if his memories hadn't changed, then what he remembered was still true.

He decided to try and make the best of it and went down to breakfast.

Things went pretty much the same as the day before. He was still in the same set of classes, still had lunch with the same bunch of friends. Then came seventh period. Gym.

The old Russ loved gym. He was the star athlete, the coach's pet, and it gave him a chance to show off in front of the rest of the class.

But that was his old life. The new Russ Walsh was a short, out of condition geek. He could barely keep up, when they went through the warm up drills. He panted and puffed like a train and had to stop a couple of times. It got worse when they counted off sides for a game of volleyball. He still remembered all his old moves, but his new body just wouldn't do what he told it to.

The score was tied, 20-20, no thanks to him. Max Snyder was on the other team. He hit the ball towards Russ, a high arching shot that seemed to take forever to get to him. Russ tried to return it low,. He did hit it, but the ball headed right for the net. At the last instant, Billy Jackson jumped in front of it. Billy hit it straight up, then spiked it over the net for the winning point.

As most of the team gathered around Billy to congratulate him, he looked at Russ and mouthed the word, "Asshole!" Russ felt like one, too, and he turned away unwilling to meet Billy's glare.

He was still thinking about the shot as the boys dressed for their next class. Damn it, this wasn't fair. He should have been the hero, not the goat. And why did it have to have been Billy who'd saved his ass and won the game.

He heard his name and suddenly realized that he'd been staring at Billy who was getting dressed about four lockers away. Billy had caught him at it. "What're you looking at, faggot? You want to start something?" Billy made a fist and waved it in his direction. "Or maybe you just want to come over and blow me?"

The old Russ knew he could take Billy in a fight. He'd proved that last summer, when the two had fought over a girl both wanted. It took some effort, but Russ had won. And he'd celebrated his victory with the girl that night in an old cabin near the lake.

But now a new memory came into Russ' mind. There had been a fight last summer, but it was when Russ' bike had fallen over and scratched Billy's car. Billy had won easily, leaving Russ with a black eye and a number of bruises.

Russ actually found himself shaking. "Um, no, Billy. I -- I was feeling pretty stupid for messing up that shot and wishing that I was half as good an athlete as you are."

Russ still knew how to get to one of Billy's weak spots, his ego. "That's all?" he asked Russ.

"Yeah. Just -- just wanting to be like you, man."

"Well, I don't see any chance of that happening, but even a geek like you has a right to dream." A few of the other boys had heard the exchange and were waiting for the excitement of a fight. Most laughed with Billy -- and at Russ -- and went back to getting dressed.

Russ took a few seconds to calm himself and did the same. The rest of the school day was petty much the same as always. After school, Russ went looking for one of the Weaver sisters, but he was as unsuccessful as the day before. And just as sure that they were around and watching him.

He felt different somehow when he woke up the next morning. He took a quick look around the room. It was pretty much the same as the day before. The main difference seemed to be that, for some reason, his pajamas had changed from dark brown to a pale yellow. But the feeling persisted, so he got out of bed to look at himself in the mirror.

He was still a skinny runt, about 5 foot 6, now, with hair down to -- no, this morning it was past his shoulders. And it looked thicker, too, and chestnut again, rather than a dull brown. Or maybe it was his face. His face was thinner, with higher cheek bones. His eyebrows looked thinner, too, almost as if he plucked them.

His arms seemed smoother, less bony, as if there was some more fat under the skin. His hands were smaller, but his fingers seemed longer although more slender.

Russ began to wonder just how far the changes went. He had trouble unbuttoning his pajama top. He was so nervous that he didn't realize that the buttons were now on the other side.

He slid off the shirt and stared at his chest. His nipples, they were bigger now and on dark brown aureoles that were as big as half dollars! And those were centered on -- no, it couldn't be. It just couldn't be. He had tits! Little ones, barely A-cup, but tits! And his waist was narrower. It was as if --

Frantically, Russ reached down into his pants. It had to be there! He felt around for his penis, his testicles, but they were nowhere to be found.

His fingers moved slowly through his pubic hairs, stopping at a pair of lips on either side of a narrow opening. He gently pushed in a single finger. He knew only too well, from the experiences of his old life, what he was feeling: labia, a vagina, a clitoris. No, his clitoris. He was a girl.

Wide awake now, Russ looked around the room. There was a full length mirror on the bathroom door that hadn't been there the day before. He -- no, she -- ran over to it and dropped her pants. The girl staring back at her from the mirror was slender, almost too slender, with small tits, narrow waist and hips. Her legs were pretty good, though, and the face was kind of cute.

If she'd seen her in the right outfit and with a little make-up, the old Russ would definitely have given her a second look. Maybe even try to get her into bed. But the new Russ -- hell, this girl was the new Russ.

Now she looked around the room, knowing that there had to be other changes. There was a white quilt embroidered with red roses on her bed, and she noticed that her dresser and end table, which were too low to have seen while she was lying in bed, were painted white as well.

There was a knock on the door, and her mother called, "Rose, honey, are you up?"

"Yes, Mom," she said, startled at her new alto voice. "'Rose'? well," she thought, "it was close enough to her real name that she'd be able to answer to it." Then she looked down and realized that she was going to have to get dressed. As a girl.

She walked over to the dresser. There was some make-up on a small tray on top. The underwear drawer was half full of panties, mostly plain cotton or trimmed with just a little lace. There were only a couple of bras. She didn't really need one with her small breasts. Instead there were some girl's undershirts with narrow lacy straps.

Russ pulled out a pale blue undershirt and slid it down onto her body. She could feel the cotton brush against her nipples and tried to ignore how pleasant it was. She stepped into a pair of matching panties and pulled them up to her waist. The material was cool against her skin. The sensation of the cloth flat against her groin reminding her again of the loss of her manhood. She pulled a pair of socks from another drawer and sat down on the bed to put them on. There was no way she was going to try to put on the panty hose or, worse, stockings.

There were no other clothes in sight. Whatever else she was in this new life, Russ decided that, at least, she was neater than she had been. She pulled a "rocker" t-shirt from the dresser and walked over and opened the closet door. She wasn't ready to wear any of the dresses or skirts that she found there. She knew that she would have to eventually, if she couldn't get her old life back, but she was willing to wait. Instead, she chose a pair of jeans, and she grabbed two light blue sneakers from a shoe rack on the door. She was ready in a moment.

Just as she was about to go down for breakfast, a new memory rushed into her head. Make-up. She'd forgotten to put any on. She didn't want to, but she didn't want to answer a lot of questions about why she hadn't. Fortunately, the memory included the knowledge of how to use the stuff and of what was the minimum she could get by with.

He pursed her lips and applied the gloss, as if she'd been doing it for years. A little blusher on each check, and she was ready. No, her hair needed a quick comb. That done, she inspected her work. She had been right. She did look cute. She shook her head in disbelief and went to breakfast.

Twenty minutes later, Russ was waiting outside when the bus came. As she climbed on, she heard her new name. "Rose," Becky Landers called. "Over here." Russ had known Becky since second grade, even dated her for a while when they were both freshman. But it turned out that she didn't really like jocks. "Her loss," he'd figured at the time. Now, it seemed, they were best friends. Russ said "Hi" and sat down besides her.

"Are you going to the dance," Becky asked.

"The dance," Russ thought and shuddered. Earlier in the week, she hadn't had a date. Did she have one now, or, worse, did she have a steady? she waited for a name to come into her head, but all that came was the memory of not dating much. "Thank heavens," she thought. Aloud she said, "nobody's asked me."

"I'm going with Steve, of course," Becky said, "but I know that a lot of girls are going without dates. Why don't you?"

"I don't know."

"C'mon, it'll be fun. Besides, if the boys see you there, especially if you put a little work into how you look, they'll start asking you out. You really are too cute to not date, you know."

"I'm -- I'm just not interested in boys," Russ said truthfully.

"Oooh, maybe I should be nervous sitting here next to a butch girl like you," Becky said. Then she giggled. "I'm sorry, Rose. I shouldn't be teasing. I know you're not gay. Just shy."

Russ was beginning to feel really embarrassed. "Can we drop the whole subject, if I promise to think about going to the dance?"

"Okay -- did you see those dresses on the MTV fashion show the other night?"

Russ spent the rest of the ride dodging questions about the show. Once in a while, the answer to something Becky said came into her mind, but she was seriously handicapped by the fact that most of what she knew about female clothing was ways to coax the female out of them.

As before, Russ discovered that she was still taking much the same set of classes. The exception was fourth period, just before lunch. Without thinking she walked into her Auto Shop class. Mr. Slavin looked up from his desk. "May I help you, young lady."

"Young lady." The thought suddenly came into Russ's mind that she had Home Ec this hour. She stood for a moment, trying to figure a way out.

"Look, young lady, whatever you might want to say to your boyfriend -- whoever he is -- will have to wait. You have to get to your class, and I'm about to start teaching mine."

"I -- I'm sorry," Russ said, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. She turned and ran from the class. Home Ec was about half way down the corridor, and Russ entered the room just as the bell rang.

Ms. DeWitt had already begun. "So nice of you to join us, Ms. Walsh. Please take your seat." There was a single empty seat in the room, thankfully not very far from where Russ was standing. She took it quickly, as Ms. DeWitt handed out papers. "Today, I want to review the results of Monday's pop quiz. Most of you did well, I'm happy to say, but there's always room for improvement."

She went on for most of the hour, going through the quiz question by question, pointing out problem areas, making suggestions, even telling an occasional joke to make a point. She was so good that Russ paid attention and actually found herself learning something.

Becky was in the class with her. She came over after the bell had rung to end the period. "So, how did you do?"

Russ realized that she hadn't noticed. She looked quickly at the paper. "Eighty seven," she said. "I missed a couple of those questions in part 2."

"They were tough. Hey, c'mon, we only have twenty-five minutes for lunch." Becky grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the cafeteria.

Irene Roth was saving a table for them with, of all people, Jenny Benton. Russ wasn't sure how to react. Jenny just smiled at what, in this new reality, were two of her oldest female friends. "Go with the flow," Russ thought and sat down.

Lunch was general girl talk, a lot of it about the dance. Who was going with whom, and what everybody was wearing. Becky tried to draw Russ (Rose) into the conversation but wasn't very successful. "That girl is just too damn shy for her own good," she thought to herself. Russ had kept still more because she hadn't known what to say than because she was too shy to say it.

To Russ's amazement, Chloe Weaver was waiting for her after school. She wore a knee length knit beige dress with dark brown open-toed shoes with a two inch heel. A gold pin in the shape of a spindle with small matching earrings were her only jewelry. "I understand that you've been looking for me, dear," she said with a smile. "I thought you might want to discuss some of the things that have been happening in your life lately."

"You're damned right I do," Russ all but shouted.

"Please, not here." Russ tried to argue, but she found herself unable to speak. Chloe lead her over to a bench near the side entrance to the school. she wanted to stay where she was standing, but found herself compelled to obey. Chloe looked her up and down, then sat on the bench motioning for her to join her. "The thread is rewinding nicely, you're becoming quite a pretty young lady."

"Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because you deserve it for what you did."

"I never did anything to you."

"Not directly, but I do resent you."

"What?"

"First of all, Jenny is my friend, and I resent what you did to her. More to the point, I resent that you used your good looks and your status as a football hero to escape from what would have been a just punishment. Most of all, I resent that you were totally unrepentant about it."

"So you changed me into this." Russ's hands gestured at her slender female body.

"Oh, you haven't finished changing yet. You don't remember your dream from Sunday night, do you?"

"Dream?" Suddenly the memory of the dream flooded back into her mind. She remembered the room, the Weaver sisters being there and looking so strange, and, worst of all, she remembered what Chloe had said. "Five days. You mean it's going to get worse. I'm -- I'm only half done?"

Chloe smiled. "I waited until today to talk to you. Waited until the rewinding had truly started. You are a female now, but barely so. By Friday, you will have become as female, in mind as well as in body, as you were a male."

"In mind? You mean that I'll forget who I was?"

"Oh, you'll remember, although no one else will. No one else does now, as you may have noticed."

"Then what? You don't mean that I'm going to start liking boys?"

"Of course I do, but that's not all that I mean. Think back on how you acted today. Was the old Russ ever as shy, as easily embarrassed, as you were today?"

"' Not all you mean'," Russ thought. "It's damn well enough." Then she thought about how she had acted. She had been shy. In fact, a lot of her reactions had been decidedly feminine, back to the way she'd so easily convinced herself to wear make-up.

"I see you begin to realize your fate."

"Please, I'll do anything you want. I'll apologize to Jenny, admit what I did to her."

"But, Rose, what have you done to Jenny that do you have to apologize for?" Chloe stressed the name. "No, you'll take your punishment. Just as your friends will be punished."

"My friends? Who? Why?"

"Max Snyder and Billy Jackson were willing to help ruin Jenny's life out of friendship to you."

"Are they going to become girls, too?"

"No, as my sister says, lesser crimes weave a lesser pattern. A pattern you are responsible for. With no Russ Walsh, there was no championship game. No scouts saw the three of you play, so no scouts offered any of you college scholarships."

"Then what happens to the guys."

"According to my sister, Max was going to be a fairly successful business man, and Billy was going to go into semi-pro ball, eventually becoming a successful college coach, and then a well-known TV sports commentator. Now, Max will be a salesman at Sears. Billy gets to drive a delivery truck, though he does also coach Little League."

"They'll hate me."

"They'll never know what happened, what they would have been, if you hadn't done what you did. And they hadn't helped you get away with it."

"It's horrible. I never meant to ruin their lives." Russ found herself about to cry.

"But you had no qualms about ruining Jenny's." She noticed the look on Russ's face. She pulled a small silk handkerchief from her purse and handed it to her. "Want to cry? Good ahead, dear. It's only natural for a girl to cry when she's upset."

Russ was stunned at the enormity of what had happened, what was going to happen. She took the handkerchief from Chloe and sat quietly dabbing at her eyes. Gradually she gave into emotions that had been bottled up since the first changes on Monday. Her sobs grew louder. The tears flowed. In a few moments, she was crying openly on Chloe's shoulder. She felt the woman's arm wrap around her, patting her on the back.

"There, there, dear," Chloe said rocking her gently like a small child. It felt good, Russ thought. Too good.

"No," Russ said, squirming free. "I'm not a girl, and you can't make me act like one!"

Chloe smiled. "Not a girl? Look at yourself, my dear." She gestured at Russ's body. "And I'm not making you do anything, but look at how you're acting right now? Your emotions are becoming as female as the rest of your body. Your reactions a moment ago, indeed, your reactions right now, are hardly those of a boy."

"Go away. Leave me alone."

"Very well, my dear." Chloe stood up. "You won't be seeing me until the thread has completely rewound. Enjoy the next two days."

Russ looked up. "What? What's going to happen?" But Chloe was completely gone. Vanished without a trace, leaving Russ alone on the bench.

Russ had a hard time getting to sleep that night. She knew that something would be changed by morning, and she was afraid to guess what that change would be.

She found out quickly enough the next morning. When she sat up in bed to look around the room, she felt a weight on her chest. Looking down, she saw that the yellow pajamas she had put on the night before had changed into a yellow nightgown. Two breasts, much larger than the day before, pushed out the front of the gown. Her nails seemed a bit longer, too, and they were covered with a pink polish.

Curious to get a better look, she got out of bed and walked to the mirror on her bathroom door. The nightgown hung down almost to the floor hiding her figure. She pulled it off over her head, noticing as she did that her chestnut hair seemed even thicker and longer.

Yes, her hair was definitely longer, hanging down almost to her breasts. She pushed the hair back with an automatic -- and very feminine gesture. Her breasts were bigger: a B-, maybe even a C-cup. Her waist was higher and a bit smaller. Her hips were wider, and her butt rounded and firm. "Pretty cute," she thought to herself, looking back over her shoulder into the mirror.

She stripped off her panties. They weren't the plain cotton ones of the day before. They were still pale blue, but now they were a silky nylon, cut higher and trimmed with white lace.

She stepped into the shower, being careful to tie a long cloth that was hanging near the tub around her hair to hold it together and help keep it dry. Picking up a bar of herb scented soap, she began to lather her new curves. Her body was much softer now, firm but somehow yielding. The sensations when she began to rub her breasts were amazing. Russ had to force herself to stop and move on down her body.

She bypassed her crotch for a moment, lifting each leg in turn to the edge of the tub to apply the soap. Her breasts were still tingling a little when she finished her legs and finally got to her crotch. When her fingers, covered with the gentle lather, began to rub against her vaginal lips, they began to tingle as well.

It felt so good! Russ became curious as to what it would feel like to really go at it. She rinsed the lather off her hand and slipped a finger inside. Russ had been fairly experienced. He had known how use his hands to make a girl feel good, and now the transformed Russ used that knowledge on her own body. The finger inside her found her clitoris and began to caress it, while her other hand reached up and began to play at her breast.

She arched her head back and began rolling her hips in time to the motion of the finger. Jolts of electric pleasure shot through her body. She began to moan.

Russ closed her eyes. She tried to pretend that she was still male. That the female body she was touching belonged to somebody else, a beautiful girl who was lovingly touching her own, still male body. Russ imagined that it was Jenny she was feeling up. A picture can into her mind. But the naked girl was herself as she'd been in the mirror a few minutes before. And the boy was Billy Jackson, naked as she remembered seeing him in the boys' gym on Tuesday. They were alone on a bed. He was doing those wonderful things to her body, and she was reaching down to fondle Billy's prick. She smiled as it grew firmer and longer in her hand.

No!

Terrified at the thought, Russ pulled his hands away from his body. He reached down and shut off the hot water. The shower turned cold, washing away much of what she had been feeling. Still, as she stepped from the shower, there was a feeling of incompleteness, almost a hunger, down in her crotch.

Patting herself dry with a fluffy towel didn't help her with the feeling. She'd never imagined that taking a shower could be such a sensual act. She picked up a duster of bath powder from tray that hadn't been there on the counter by her sink the day before. The powder was cool on her body with a lovely floral scent. She dusted herself all over, trying very hard not to notice the jolts of pleasure when she rubbed it across her nipples or down at her groin.

Finishing in the bathroom, she went back into her bedroom to get dressed. The room had changed as well. The curtain on the window were now white with lacy frills. A make-up table was tucked in the corner next to the dresser, which now had an assortment of small stuffed animals and dolls on its top.

There were still posters on the walls, but they were of different groups. Russ caught herself staring at the drummer of one group. Yesterday, Irene Roth had been talking incessantly about him at lunch. Now Russ felt her nipples beginning to tingle. "Great," she thought, "now I'm acting like some lovesick little chick."

Russ opened the dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of silky pink panties, girl's boxers trimmed with a lacy froth on each leg. She stepped into them and pulled them up around her hips. The soft cloth felt incredible against her skin. She found a matching bra -- no undershirt would be suitable for her new, bigger breasts -- and stared at it for a moment, uncertain how to put it on. Then another memory surfaced. She put her arms through the straps and leaned forward, nesting her breasts in the cups. Her arms reached behind her, and she fastened the hooks as if she had been doing it for years.

Panty hose or socks? Russ knew that, if she chose hose, the memory of how to wear them would pop into her head. But she'd also heard girls describe wearing them as a sensuous experience. And after the assault of female sensuality that she'd had to suffer through this morning, the last thing that she wanted was more, especially all day long. She chose a pair of pale green socks and slipped them on her feet.

As she walked to the closet, another reason for socks occurred to her. Panty hose meant heels. Even if her trick memory told her how to wear them, she just wasn't ready for anything that overtly feminine.

But what was she ready for? Yesterday, the closet had held mostly jeans and girl's slacks. Today, it was crammed full of skirts and dresses. Russ looked at them, wondering how she'd look in this or that one. In a few cases, she found herself remembering. how well she looked. That pink mini, for instance, the boys had really liked -- no!

"None of that," Russ thought, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. She chose a green blouse and brown plaid slacks. She dressed quickly. Except for the buttons being on the other side, these weren't much different from what Russ had always worn. She had to smile when she looked in the mirror, though. The slacks showed off her narrow waist and wide hips.

It did need something. No girl ever seemed to come to school without some jewelry. There was some jewelry in a glass case among the dolls on the dresser. She put a wide gold bracelet on her left wrist. A gold chain hung down from her neck and rested between her breasts.

Unfortunately, they always wore make-up, too. Russ sat down at the make-up table and turned on the lights around the mirror. New memories told her what each item was and how to use it. She sighed. If she had to, she had to. A little mascara on her eyes, some blusher for the cheeks, and a pale pink shade of lipstick, and she was ready.

Like the day before, Becky Landers called Russ over as she boarded the bus. Becky was excited about the dance Friday night, joking and giggling about her date with Steve Porter. Her excitement was catching, and by the time the bus got to the school, Russ was giggling along with her.

From what Becky said while they rode to school, Russ got the impression that she had a date for the dance, too. She tried to remember who it was, but nothing came. That worried Russ. She'd gotten to depend on those crazy new memories to help her blend in. Then it occurred to her that the new memories only came when she needed the information for some reason. "I guess I don't need to know that yet," Russ thought.

She found out why when the bus parked, and kids began to get off to go in to class. Al Sachs was standing near the parking space. When Russ climbed off, Al called her over. He took her by the hand and gave her a little peck on the check. "How are you this morning, babe?"

Russ wasn't sure how to react. "Um, okay, I guess."

"What's the matter? Hey, you're not mad about last night?" Al sensed that something was wrong, though he could hardly know how wrong Russ thought things had become.

"What about last night?" Russ waited for a memory to tell him, but nothing came.

"Look, I'm sorry. I wanted to come over, but my dad needed my help at the store. It was help him or not get the car tomorrow night." He put his arm around Russ' waist, pulling her close. "You do want to have the privacy of a car tomorrow night, don't you?"

Russ felt her nipples tingling. "Oh, shit," he thought. But the feelings running through his body felt so good. "I guess, so," she said aloud.

The five minute bell rang. Al gave her another peck on the cheek. "Gotta go, Babe. See you later." He dropped his arm and ran off.

"You and Russ planning something for the dance," Becky said nudging Russ with an elbow. "Or maybe for after the dance?"

Russ felt her cheeks flush. Embarrassed, she looked down towards the ground. "I guess so."

"M.m., he's cute. I won't ask now, but I'll expect a full report on Saturday."

"We'll see," Russ said, still blushing. Then, desperate to change the subject, she said, "right now, we'd better get to class." The two girls ran into the building.

The day went by in a blur. She was still in the same classes, so the schedule wasn't much of a problem. Even having to take Home Ec instead of auto shop wasn't so bad. Ms. DeWitt was a pretty good teacher, even if the class was one she really had no interest in. Then came seventh period and with it, gym class.

Russ was walking towards the Boys' Gym, when Becky called her. "Aren't you going in the wrong door, Rose? I know that I've thought about peeking in from time to time, but I never thought that you'd have the nerve to try." She giggled. "We'd better hurry. Coach Vorhees hates it when girls are late."

"Girls," Russ thought. "I'm going to get into girls' gym. Cool, first good thing since this craziness started."

But it wasn't cool. It was just gym. Russ was surrounded by some of the prettiest girls in the school. They were taking off their clothes, baring their lovely bodies to her. And it was no more exciting than when the old Russ had been in the boys' locker room.

He stared at Kelly Jackson, Billy's cousin, for a couple of minutes. Kelly had what a lot of boys considered the sexiest body in the school. Narrow waist, long shapely legs, and a set of tits that a lot of guys thought had to be half plastic. She'd dated college boys since her sophomore year, so even the old Russ hadn't had a chance with her.

Now Russ was standing next to her. He watched her free those glorious breasts from a skimpy black bra that was so sheer it was almost transparent.

They looked real now, but she found that she had no interest in touching them. Kelly noticed her staring. "What's the matter, Rose? Never seen what a real girl looks like."

"No. I mean, I was just admiring your bra and panties. They look so sexy, I was wondering where you got them." Russ blurted out what she thought was just a line. Then she realized that it was true. She had wondered where Kelly had gotten the matched set. More scary, she was wondering how she'd look in something like that, and what -- oh, no -- what Al would think if he saw her in something like that.

"Victoria's Secret, but you've got to have the figure to wear them."

Russ actually felt the sting of the insult. "I think I look pretty good," she thought."

"If you two have quite finished discussing your lingerie," Becky said. "Ms. Vorhees is expecting us on court."

Russ already had on her sports bra and gym shorts. She threw on a t-shirt from her locker and slipped into her sneakers. The old Russ tied his shoes loosely, so he could slip into them like loafers in a hurry. Evidently, the new Russ was the same. Russ was on the gym floor just as Ms. Vorhees blew her whistle to start class. She had the satisfaction of seeing Kelly come out a couple minutes later. Ms. Vorhees was as tough as any of the male gym teachers. Standard punishment was 12 push-ups per minute late. Girl push-ups, maybe, but Kelly still had to do 24 of them, while the rest of the class watched.

Russ had a feeling that Kelly would be gunning for her, looking to revenge herself for the embarrassment of the push-up. Nothing happened, except once, when she glanced over and saw Kelly glare back at her.

Girls' basketball was just starting at Ellwood City High, and Ms. Vorhees was still recruiting for the team. She split her girls into two teams, so she could see what talent there might be.

Russ had learned to play the game by age seven, and she'd lettered in it in her old life. But she discovered that, while her mind still remembered the moves, her body just didn't want to cooperate. She managed to get the ball at one point and was moving down court with it. Kelly ran by, trying to guard her. She made a couple of quick moves and reached for the ball. Russ moved to keep control, and Kelly's leg shot out around her own. They both fell to the gym floor, and the ball rolled towards the bleachers.

Russ was up in a moment. "You tripped me, bitch!" she shouted.

"You fell over your own two left feet, you cow."

Ms. Vorhees blew her whistle. "I don't know what this is about, but I won't tolerate it. The two of you get dressed now, and we'll talk about it later." She paused for a beat, then blew the whistle again. "All right, the rest of you. There's still ten minutes of class left. Let's see if any of the rest of you are any good."

The two girls went back to the locker room. They stripped and headed for the showers without saying a word to one another. Russ watched Kelly soaping her body, rubbing the lather across her breasts, down her legs, in her groin. This was an image that she'd fantasized about -- hell, that half the boys in the school had probably masturbated to. And now, nothing. She felt some arousal, but it was triggered by the feelings she got rubbing the soap across her own female form.

Russ was tempted to do a repeat performance of her morning activities in the shower, but Kelly was in there with her. The rest of the class would be coming back into the locker room in a minute. She felt a shyness welling up in her, killing any thought of self pleasure. She left Kelly in the shower, dried off, and dressed.

Ms. Vorhees was waiting for her near the door to the gym. "Becky Landers told me what happened. You shouldn't be arguing about something as silly which of you has the better body. I'm sure there are enough boys in this school doing that, anyway. For me, the important thing is that you stopped and got to class on time. Kelly was late. It was her own fault, but she seems to have blamed you. You can go to class, now."

"What about Kelly," Russ asked.

"She can consider the error of her ways while she's doing laps this afternoon."

"Thank you, Ms. Vorhees," Russ said, smiling.

"Wipe that smile off your face, or you'll be out running with her." Russ nodded in obedience and headed for her next class. She had the sense to wait until she was around the corner from Ms. Vorhees before breaking back into a smile

The old Russ had a bunch of chores around the house. Now it seemed that washing the dinner dishes was added to the list. She was just finishing, when her mother came into the kitchen. "You have company, dear."

"Who?" Russ looked up from the plate she was rinsing. Al Sachs walked into the kitchen.

"I came over to study with you, like we talked about at school" he said. "I'm sorry if I got here early."

"That's all right, Al -- is it?" Russ's mother said. "I can finish for her this once. In the future, though, Al, please don't come to see Rose before, say, 7:15 to give her time to finish." She put on an apron and moved to Russ' place at the sink.

Russ took off her own apron and dried her hands. "Let's go upstairs," she said.

"Let's not," said her mother. There's plenty of room at the dining room table for the pair of you."

Russ realized what her mother had thought the two teens might do in her room, especially with the door shut -- or even locked. She blushed at the notion, even as she felt her nipples tighten and a warmth spread through her stomach. Her body seemed to have the same idea, and it liked the idea.

The pair didn't get a chance to go upstairs together, but they were left alone at the table for the most part. They sat close, hips touching and holding hands. Once or twice, Al leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. One time, he even took a chance and kissed her on the lips. It was a short kiss, but full of feeling. Russ felt her nipples pushing against the material of her bra. There was a warm moistness in her crotch and an empty feeling there as well.

Al went home about ten, kissing her again at the door before he left. Russ went upstairs and changed for bed. The emptiness, the need Al had aroused in her remained. Lying in bed she remembered how he looked, the touch of his hand on hers. He had such a wonderful smile. She felt her hand on her breast and pretended that it was his. The part of her that was still the old, male Russ was screaming "No!", but she barely heard it.

Her other hand went down to her crotch, pulling her night gown up around her hips. She began rubbing her clitoris. The sensations got better and better. She began to pump her hips to the motion of her finger, as jolts of pleasure shot between her breasts and her pussy. Then they radiated out through her entire body like a bolt of lightening. Russ realized that she had experienced her first female orgasm.

But not her last. She kept caressing her body, lifted higher and higher by the pleasure. She finally stopped when she heard her parents going to bed. She lay there quietly, afraid to start again and have them hear. After a while, she simply drifted off to sleep. Still smiling.

Russ was awakened the next morning by music, one of those easy listening stations that girls liked. She rolled over to find that her alarm clock had been replaced by a small clock radio. That couldn't be the only change. She decided that she might as well get the worse over with and climbed out of bed to view herself in the mirror on the bathroom door.

As she walked over, yawning and scratching her head, she noticed that her hair seemed even thicker. Longer, too, she thought, considering the extra pull she felt on her scalp. She leaned in close to the mirror to get a look at her face and hair.

She could hardly believe what she saw in the mirror. Her hair was a mass of chestnut curls that framed her now heart shaped face and hung down almost to her waist. Her eyebrows were shaped to narrow lines, and her eyelashes seemed much longer. Her complexion was peaches and cream perfect. Her lips seemed fuller, and her expression felt into a natural, but very sexy pout.

She stepped back to get a look at her figure. The pale yellow night gown of the night before was now a baby doll nightie that barely reached down to her hips. Her hips seemed wider, too, and her waist narrower. The nightie was cut low and barely contained her larger breasts. She posed this way and that in front of the mirror, marveling at her new figure. She felt feminine and sexy, and a growing part of her loved the feeling.

"Fun as it might be," Russ thought, "this isn't getting me ready for school.

She walked over to the dresser, shucking off her nightie. The panty was almost a thong, barely covering her crotch and held on by narrow strings tied across her hips. She untied the strings and let the panty fall to the floor.

The underwear in the drawer looked a lot more sexy than the day before. Russ pulled out a pair of white, French cut panties that were so sheer as to be almost transparent, except for a narrow, lace trimmed gusset at the crotch. They looked very much like the sort Kelly Jackson had worn the day before. She stepped into them and pulled them up to her waist, feeling their silky coolness against her skin.

She had trouble finding the matching bra. She thought about going without. "Give the boys a thrill," she thought and giggled. Then she remembered the sort of jokes that guys made -- that she'd made -- about girls who went braless, especially girls with a rack as big as hers was now. She decided that she'd rather keep looking.

She finally found the bra in the back of the drawer. It wasn't quite as sheer, with a pattern of swirled lace to hide her nipples. The bra was underwire, lifting and separating her 38 D breasts for even better effect. (She'd looked at the label before putting it on.) It was cut low, too, so that her breasts looked ready to spill out.

Russ reached in the drawer again and pulled out a pair of smoky gray panty hose. She sat back on her bed and slowly, carefully pulled them up her long curvy legs. It took a little time. Not from inexperience, but because she wanted to make sure that there were no sags or wrinkles. That was hard to do with fingernails that were longer and more rounded than the day before. She still had the same pink polish on her nails, but now her toes were painted the same color.

She walked towards the closet, watching herself in the door mirror. She had a nice feminine strut, her hips swaying invitingly as she walked. Her legs looked good, too, but she knew somehow that they'd look better in heels.

Russ took a frilly white peasant blouse and a short charcoal skirt from hangers in the closet. She pulled on the blouse over her head, then carefully pulled her long hair free and let it hang down behind her. She stepped into the skirt and pulled it up around her hips, tucking in the blouse. It was narrow at the waist, then flared out about her hips. It was tight enough to show them off but not to make her look slutty. Well, not too slutty. And it ended about half way between her waist and her knees.

Pulling out a pair of dark gray pumps, she slipped them on her feet. hey had two inch heels, and Russ wondered for a movement if she'd be able to walk in them. She sat for a moment, waiting for a memory of how to do so. None came. "Well, better learn," she said with a sigh and stood up. She walked towards the make-up table half expecting to fall and ready to catch herself.

To her delight, she found that she was comfortable in the shoes, walking with the same feminine gait as she had barefoot. "I guess my body remembers, even if my mind doesn't," she thought.

She sat at the table and reached for a hairbrush. A gentle combing got a few of her stray curls into place. Her make-up was more sophisticated this morning. A smoky eye shadow accented her eyes. The blusher was joined by some highlighter that made her cheekbones look higher. She dabbed a little perfume behind each ear.

She found a small jewelry box in a corner of the table and, curious, opened it. Earrings. Russ touched her earlobe and felt a small hole. No, her fingers told her, two holes. She brushed her hair back to look. Yes, pierced ears. Mercifully, the memory that came to her was how to put the earrings on, not the memory of the piercing. She picked a pair of pearl earrings from the box and put them in the lower hole on each ear.

On her way out the door, Russ picked a wide white gold bracelet from the jewel box on her dresser and put it on her wrist. A matching chain went around her neck. It was long enough to hang down to the valley between her breasts, calling attention to them.

"Girl, you look hot," she said, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

The thought scared her. A few days ago, she'd been Russ Walsh, boy hero, terror of the football field and the date of choice for most of the girls in the school. Now, here she was in heels and French cut panties, ready to strut her pretty ass through the halls of Ellwood City High.

The changes to her mind were as thorough as the changes to her body. She was comfortable in her new body and her new clothes. She'd put that body through its paces last night, and she'd enjoyed it. Well, everybody enjoyed masturbating, didn't they? But she was suddenly afraid of how much she'd probably enjoy letting somebody else touch her like that. She had enjoyed kissing Al last night, and the way he talked, they had plans to do more -- to go further -- that evening. Part of her was still the old Russ and was repelled at the thought of sex with a boy. But part of her, a big part, was Rose, and she liked the idea. Her body seemed to agree with the new Rose. She felt her cheeks flush and her nipples begin to tingle.

Then even newer memories came to her. Yes, Al had been there last night, but only to study. He was much better in math than she was, and she'd asked him to come over to help her prepare for today's quiz. She was going to the dance with somebody else. But who? That she didn't remember. "Great," she said in despair. "Now I'm playing mind games with myself. It just gets better and better." She closed the door behind her and went down to breakfast.

Al was waiting near the bus stop when Russ' bus got to the school. He was coming over as she stepped off. "Maybe I am going with him after all," she thought. Aloud she said, "Hi, Al."

"Oh, um, hi, Rose. You ready for the test?"

"I guess so. Thanks for the help last night." She was waiting for a kiss, but none came. Al suddenly smiled and stepped around her. He took Jenny's hand, as she stepped off the bus. The two kissed quickly and walked towards the school building hand in hand.

"That is so sweet," Russ thought watching the two of them. She hugged her books and sighed. "If only -- if only who?" She knew that she was dating somebody in this new reality, but her mind stubbornly refused to tell her who it was.

"Give you any ideas, Babe?"

Russ turned towards the voice. It was Max Snyder, leaning against the side of the bus and positively leering at her. "What do you want?"

Max actually looked hurt. "Gee, can't a guy say 'hello' to his girl without her jumping all over him?"

"His girl?" Russ thought. "Shit!" Now the memories came. She and Max had been dating since the middle of football season. Considering some of the stories Max had told the old Russ, she was just as glad that she couldn't remember any details.

But if her mind didn't remember, her body did. She felt it tingle, and her nipples begin to stiffen. She caught herself smiling and feeling sorry for the way she'd greeting him. "I'm sorry, Max. I'm just a little out of sorts today."

He took her hand in a surprisingly gentle way. The tingling sensation got stronger. "That's okay, Hon," he said. "Gee, it hope it's not your time of month or anything. I mean, with the dance and all tonight."

"Oh, God, not that," Russ thought. "I am in no way ready to have a period."

But she suspected that her trick memory would have warned her if she was anywhere near her "time of month".

She shyly shook her head and said, "No, I just really haven't been myself this week." Boy, was that the truth! "I'll be okay."

The five minute bell rang. "We'd better get going," Max said. "I wish I could walk you in, but you know how far apart our first period classes are."

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and ran off towards the far side of the building. Russ walked in the nearby door, heading for her own class. She felt good. Maybe she was wrong about Max.

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly. Russ was surprised at how well she did on the quiz. The way she remembered their study session, she and Al had spent more time cuddling than cramming. But in today's reality, she also remembered that they'd spent several hours just doing math. Time after time, the memory of how to answer a problem simply popped into her head when she needed it. She didn't expect an A, but even a B was better than what the old Russ had done. Even a C would have been better, and she was sure that she'd done at least that well.

All any of the girls could talk about at lunch was the dance that night. Who was going with whom, and what they were going to wear. A few of the girls had gotten new dresses, even if it was just a Friday "mixer", rather than a "formal" dance, and were being mysterious. Russ didn't remember what she was wearing, but she did remember seeing a dress in her closet wrapped in a plastic bag from Lorraine's, one of the better dress shops in town. That had to be a new dress, but she wouldn't know what it looked like until she got home after school, so she just dropped what she hoped were generic hints.

Russ had been home about fifteen minutes when the phone rang. It was Max. "Hi, Babe. I wanted to see if you were feeling any better than this morning." The only class that Max and Russ -- the old Russ -- had had together was Auto Shop, and now that was gone. They had different period lunches, too. She hadn't seen him since that morning.

She felt a warm feeling all through her body. He cared! Evidently there was more to her old friend than the jock that Russ had grown up with. "I feel fine, Max. Especially now that I'm talking to you."

"Great. What time should I pick you up? The dance starts at 8, you know."

"Umm, 7:30 sound okay?"

"Sounds fine. Hey, I'd love to talk, but I know you've got a million things to do to get ready for me -- for the dance, I mean. I'll see you then." He hung up without another word.

"Well, that was romantic," said Russ, hanging up her phone. She had been wanting to talk. She'd never liked girls that gushed at a guy over the phone, but now she had felt the need to do just that, to share her excitement with the boy she liked. Her new opinion of Max dropped a notch.

Still, he was right. She did have a lot to do. She went back to her room and stripped out of her clothes, tossing everything into a wicker hamper near the closet. Then she sat at the make-up table and used cold cream to remove every trace of make-up from her face,

Russ ran water in the tub, letting it get comfortably hot before turning on the shower. Pulling the shower curtain across the tub, she stepped in. The shower now had one of those pulsing showerheads, and the waves of water shooting over her body felt absolutely wonderful. She lathered herself with the same herbal soap as yesterday, taking extra time on her larger breasts.

Even as one hand moved the soap slowly around her large nipples, the other moved down to rub against the lips of her vagina. A long finger reached up to caress her clitoris, while another slipped inside moving in the same steady rhythm. Jolts of pleasure shot to every part of her body. Her knees grew weak, so that she had to lean against the wall to keep standing. Her hips rolled to the motion of her hand, as her vagina began to pulse.

Her head went back, eyes closed, mouth open. She heard herself moaning and hoped that the sounds wouldn't carry over the noise of the shower. Last night, she had thought of Al Sachs while she'd masturbated, but now the image of Max Snyder came into her mind. He was there with her in the shower. It was his hands on her breast and in her pussy. He was bringing her higher...higher...high -- a lightening bolt of pure sexual energy shot through Russ, setting off every nerve. She stopped the motions of her hands and sank slowly to the tub floor, lost in the physical joy of her orgasm.

As the water washed over her, Russ had time to think about what she had just done. This was the second time she'd had an orgasm as a girl. And enjoyed it, reveled in it. The first time, she could excuse that as curiosity, taking her new equipment out for a test run. But this second time, it was getting to be a habit. She was getting used to her female sexuality. What was worse, she found herself curious about what it would be for real. What it would be like to have sex as a girl -- with a boy.

She shook her head as if to clear it and stood up. Since her hair was already soaking wet, Russ decided to wash it. There was a bottle of herbal shampoo in a little basket hanging from the showerhead. She poured some into her hand and began to work up a lather. As she worked the lather through her thick curls, it occurred to her that this was the shampoo/conditioner that advertised itself as "an organic experience" with those commercials that suggested that you could almost bring yourself off using it. Well, she'd already done that. Now if it would just clean her hair.

Russ finished her hair, turned of the shower, and stepped out. There was a pile of thick towels on the counter. She wrapped one around her hair, planning to dry it later. She used a second towel to pat herself dry. Her skin was so much softer now that she couldn't rub it dry the way she had as a male. She also was careful around her nipples and vagina which were still sensitive from her activity in the shower.

She finished and tossed the towel in a hamper near the sink. Picking up the duster of floral scented bath powder, she sprinkled on herself and carefully rubbed it in. Again, she was careful rubbing her breasts and by her crotch, not wanting to, well, distract herself again. There was a short pink bathrobe on a hook on the door, and she slipped it on. It was fluffy like a towel and reached most of the way down to her knees.

Then she unwrapped her hair. It hung down straight, heavy with the weight of water and even darker than its usual chestnut. Russ plugged in the portable hair dryer, set it to "maximum dry", put in the drying comb and turned it on. It seemed to take forever, but working from the top of her head down to the tips that hung almost to her waist, she eventually got the hair dry. She could smell the gentle scent of flowers from the shampoo, brought out by the dyer heat.

She decided not to do anything with her hair, which was now a mass of curls.

She liked the way it looked. "The bedroom look," she thought and giggled.

Damn, she was definitely ready to see what sex was like as a girl. Knowing Max's alleged history, his locker room bragging, there was a good possibility of that -- as far as Max knew in this new reality -- it had already happened. She also knew that there was a good chance of it happening for her this evening. Well, whatever happened happened. She applied some deodorant and went back to her bedroom.

Russ had left the robe on, expecting the room to feel cooler after the heat of the shower. It was. She saw goose bumps on her slender bare arms and felt her nipples grow erect. Though, this time it was from the cool air.

She reached into her drawer and pulled out a matching panty and bra set, off-white satin with English lace trim in a white rose design on the gusset of the panties and the cups of the bra. It was actually a three piece set. The matching garter belt was in the other drawer with her stockings and panty hose. She pulled it out along with a pair of sheer dark gray hose.

Russ fit the garter belt around her, marveling at how narrow her waist was now, and hooked it into place. The four straps hung down, brushing against her thighs and over the curve of her lovely rounded butt. She stepped into the panties and pulled them up, twisting to get them past her hips, marveling at the cool feel of the satin against her bare skin. She had to reach inside the panties to straighten a couple of the garter straps and make certain that all four hung out from beneath the panties.

Then she sat down on the bed and picked up one of the stockings . She bunched it up and carefully pulled it up her leg. Checking once or twice for any sags or runs, she stood up and hooked the front of the stocking to a garter. Then she twisted at the waist and bent her knee to attach the back to a second garter. She repeated the process a moment later with her other leg.

She took off the robe and stood still for a moment enjoying the new experience of wearing stockings. She felt them pulled tightly on her legs, the garter straps rubbing against her bare thighs, They felt like fingers caressing her skin, and she felt herself getting turned on again. Her nipples were growing erect, sticking out "Just like two tiny little pricks," she thought with a giggle.

The bra was strapless. She rested the cups on her breasts, leaning back as she expertly reached behind her to fasten it. The bra was cut low, and she reached in, positioning each breast, so that they were lifted up and looked even bigger. Her nipples brushed against the lace and satin, making her tingle delightfully.

There was only a little time now till supper, so Russ used it to do her nails. Polish remover got rid of the light pink color. She found press-on nails in a drawer in the make-up table, helped by the new memory that they were there. Once they were attached, she trimmed and shaped them to a rounded half inch extension of her own nails. She then applied a deep red polish, blowing gently on each nail afterwards to help it dry.

About ten minutes later, when her mother called her for supper, the nails were dry. Russ put the robe back on, closing it around her and tying it tightly at the waist. It wouldn't do to flaunt her sexy undies in front of her parents. There were a pair of fuzzy pink slippers near the bed. She stepped into them to protect her stockings and went down to super.

The meal went well enough. Both her parents worked; her mother in the records office at the hospital; her father at an insurance agency. They talked about their days, sharing a few jokes about "Life in the Office" that Russ had heard before and wasn't particularly interested in. Eventually, her father asked, "So tonight's the big dance that you've been talking about all week."

"It's just a Friday mixer, dear," her mother said. "Are you going with Becky and your other friends?"

"If I've been talking about it 'all week'," Russ thought, "I must have said who I was going with." Her mother's inability to remember almost anything he said had been a constant complaint of the old Russ. Some things didn't change. "I have a date," she said aloud. "Max Snyder is taking me."

Now her father perked up. "Hey, I saw him at that one football game you dragged me to. He's not bad. If your team had had a good quarterback, they might have gone a lot further than they did."

Russ sighed. The team did have a good quarterback. Her -- him -- her when she'd been a him. This change was really getting to her, and being reminded of what she'd been was killing all the new pleasure of being a girl. She wanted to change the subject, and she certainly didn't want it brought up again when Max came for her.

Her mother rescued her. "You and your Sports, Stan, I don't want you to embarrass poor Rose by gushing over the boy when he comes to pick her up. Or drag him off to talk football, while she waits to go to the dance."

"Okay, okay, I promise. Do I get to meet the boy, or are you going to lock me in my room when he comes?"

Russ wasn't listening any more. What had she just said to herself? "The new pleasure of being a girl?" Yes, she finally had to admit it. She was enjoying being a girl, and she wasn't sure that she'd want to change back, if Chloe Weaver gave her the chance. This was something that she'd have to give careful thought to.

But not right now.

It was almost 6:40. Max would be there for her in less than an hour, and here she was sitting in her undies eating supper. She pushed the plate away and stood up. "I have to get ready for the dance," she said.

"But you're not done eating."

"Mom, I don't have time to finish. Besides, there'll be food at the dance."

Russ turned and ran up to her room. Normally she would have had to do the dishes, but her mind told her that mother had agreed to let it go. She would have to set the table the next two nights to make up for it, though.

She tossed the robe onto the bed and took the clothing bag out of the closet by the hanger. Carefully, she pulled the bag up and off over the hanger. The dress came with a short jacket that she took off the hanger and laid aside. The dress itself was absolutely lovely, a long strapless white sheath trimmed in swirls of silvered sequins. It hung beneath the hanger attached by three padded clip hooks.

Russ unhooked it from the hanger, laying it carefully on the bed. She stepped out of her slippers. Then she unzipped the dress and took it in her hands. She bent over and stepped into the dress. It moved sensually up her legs, and she had to squirm and twist to get it past her wide hips. She pulled it up and over her ample breasts. It reached just high enough to cover her bra, leaving much of her bosom displayed.

Russ reached behind her and found the zipper. With a surprising expertise, she pulled it up. The dress was tight. It clung to her narrow waist, calling attention to her feminine curves. It made her stand straight and forced her to inhale slightly. Her breasts rose, looking ready to spill out.

She stood before the mirror and smoothed the dress on her hips. The white of the dress went with her creamy skin, while the sequin swirls subtly called attention to her hips and breasts. Russ replaced her tiny pearl earrings with dangling shapes of silvered metal. She took a small silver locket on a chain from the top of the dresser and placed it around her neck, taking her time to keep the chain from tangling in her hair. The locket hung from her neck resting just above her breasts and dramatically calling attention to them.

She sat at the make-up table. She applied a bright red lipstick to her mouth, pursing and pouting her lips to see the effect. Dark violet eye shadow made her eyes look larger, deeper, and mysterious. Mascara lengthened her already long lashes. And a final application of blusher and highlighter made her face appear narrow. She looked into the mirror. Staring back at her was a mature and sexually desirable young woman, not the demure and feminine high school senior Russ had become.

There was perfume on the table, as well. She picked a floral scent that would go with the fragrance left in her hair from the shampoo. She put a dab behind each ear, then on the side of her neck. She had the feeling that there was more she wanted to do. She stared at the bottle for a moment, then took the applicator and made a long stroke in the cleft between her breasts. "So wicked," she giggled. "Max'll love it."

But her parents wouldn't. A streak of stubbornness that she didn't know that she still had asserted itself. She picked up the jacket from the bed and put it on. It concealed her lovely bare shoulders and how low much of her bosom the dress revealed. It also made it hard to tell just where she had applied the perfume.

She stood and looked at herself in the door mirror. She looked good, damned good. The dress hugged her every curve, but wasn't so tight as to be vulgar. And it was high enough to show plenty of leg. They were long, slender, and gracefully curved, and Russ knew that they'd look even better in heels. She turned this way and that looking at herself. She looked better and better from every angle. She felt a new feminine delight in how good she looked, and, even though she didn't realize it, this delight was the reason she was now smiling at herself.

She picked out a pair of white shoes with three inch heels from a shoe rack on the closet doors. "These puppies are going to be tough," she thought. She didn't doubt that she would find herself able to walk in the shoes. It was the thought of standing, walking, even dancing in them for several hours that bothered her. She decided to give her toes a break and sat on the bed, the shoes besides her, listening to her radio.

About fifteen minutes later, she heard the doorbell. She put the shoes on and waited by the door to be called. Something, a memory that was more than just a memory, told her that it was better to make an entrance.

"Rose," her father's voice came from downstairs, "your date is here." Russ hurried out the door and down the hall, stopping just before she got to the stairs, never even noticing how easily she was walking in heels.. Then she slowed to a graceful walk that continued as she came down the stairs. Max and her father were waiting at the bottom, both smiling.

"Hi, Ba-, um, Rose," Max said. "You ready to go?"

"Honey, you look beautiful," her father said. "Hold on a minute." He went into the next room, coming back a moment later with a camera. He pointed to the wall by the stairs. "You two stand there while I get a picture."

Russ felt embarrassment well up inside her. "Oh, Daddy, please. We have to go."

"Daddy"? where had that come from. Russ had never called her father that, not even earlier in the evening. But now the word came naturally to her.

"Okay, just one," her father said, pointing to the wall again.

Russ looked at Max. He didn't seem happy about the delay. She walked over to the wall and motioned for Max to join her. "Please," she whispered to Max. "He promises -- only one."

Max sighed and came over to stand next to her. "Only one," he said.

Russ's father snapped the picture. He began advancing the film for another, saying, "How about a 'saver'?"

"Stan," her mother said. "You promised only one." She handed Russ her outer coat and motioned for them to leave. The pair were out the door before her father could seriously protest.

"I'm sorry about the camera," Russ said as they walked to Max's car. "You know how parents get."

"Pain in the ass," Max replied as they reached the car. "He knew we were in a hurry." Russ walked around to the other side. She stood there waiting for something. But what? "Get in already," Max said.

Russ realized that he'd been waiting for Max to come around and open the door for her. It was another reminder of how her behavior was changing to match her new body. She got in the car, and they drove off.

Max didn't say a word as they drove to the school, except to occasional curse at another driver. Russ tried to start a conversation, but he cut her off with a grunt each time. Besides he had a heavy metal tape on, blaring out over the car's speakers.

He parked near the school building and got out without a word. Russ watched for him to come around and open her door, to help her out. Instead she saw him striding towards the school. She jumped out and ran to him before he even missed her. She took his hand as they walked into the building. It felt good. Sure he was a little gruff, but she knew, deep down, that he liked her as much as she liked him.

The school service club had set up a check room near the gym. Russ handed the girl on duty her jacket as well as her outer coat. She looked at Max as he took the tags for their coats. He was smiling and staring at her, or rather at her bare shoulders and the amount of breast showing above the top of her dress. She felt a mild glow of satisfaction thinking about how much he liked what he saw -- how much he liked her.

The gym was full of people and music. There were a few of the jocks standing near the door, and Max went over to talk to them. She stood alone for a minute listening to the music. The she saw Becky and Steve, Jenny and Al sitting at a table nearby. She went over to join them. "Hi," she said.

"Hi, yourself," Jenny said. "Where's Max?"

"He, um, he's talking to somebody he saw when we came in. I'm sure he'll be over in a minute." She sat down, positioning herself so she could watch the group Max was with while she talked to her friends.

But Max didn't come. Russ watched him talking to the other jocks for about ten minutes. The others at the table were beginning to fidget. They wanted to dance, but they didn't want to leave her alone.

Finally, Max split off from the others. He looked over to where he'd left Russ and scowled when he didn't see her. He looked quickly around the room and saw her sitting there. He came over. The band began a new song just as he reached the table. "C'mon, let's dance," he said, ignoring the group at the table.

"I'm talking to my friends," Russ said. She wanted to just go with him, but a little of the old Russ asserted itself.

"Oh, yeah. Hi." He made no effort to start a conversation or sit. "Now can we dance?" It was less of a question than an order.

Russ felt her resistance melt away. "Later," she said to those at the table. She stood and let Max lead her to the floor. She looked back, feeling a little guilty, but she was relieved to see both couples following them.

Max and Russ danced together for more than an hour. Every dance. Most of the music was fast. At best, couples touched hands on occasion. Mostly they stood facing one another moving almost independently to the music. But there were enough slow dances to please those who wanted them.

During those slow dances, Max held her as closely as one could get away with at a chaperoned high school dance. Russ found that she enjoyed feeling her strong arm around her waist as he lead her around the floor. Her breasts were pulled against his chests, flattening slightly from the pressure. Her whole body was tingling and her nipples were fully erect, pushing against the satin of her bra. Once or twice, he pulled her really close, and she could feel the growing erection in his pants pushing against her groin. She felt a yearning down there, and a moistness growing from the anticipation.

A slow dance was just ending. Russ had been resting her head on Max's shoulder, and he'd been breathing softly on her neck. As the music stopped, he took her by the hand saying, "C'mon, let's go get some air. It's getting kind of stuffy in here."

Russ smiled and let him lead her from the gym. She suspected that fresh air was the last thing on his mind, but her body was screaming at her to do something, to satisfy the hunger that Max's skilled hands has awakened.

Max turned his head this way and that, making certain that they weren't being watched. Then he lead Russ down the hallway to the locker rooms. Russ had no real concerns. The locker room doors were padlocked at night.

Max stopped at a wooden door next to the locker rooms, the Equipment Room. "Being offensive team captain has some advantages," Max said, taking his keys out from his pocket. "I had a spare key made before I turned in the original at the end of the season." He opened the door and went in, leading Russ in behind him. Then he shut the door behind them and locked it.

Russ was surprised. In the old reality, she'd been offensive captain and had the key, but she'd never thought of using it like this. She hadn't realized that Max was so smart. She was proud of her friend's -- her boyfriend's -- ingenuity.

The door had a frosted window. No one would see them inside, but there was enough light for them to see within the room. A narrow window in one wall must have been near one of the school lights. A second shaft of light lit up the back of the room.

Max took her by the hand again. He lead her past racks of football gear; boxes of basketballs, footballs, and soccer balls; and a shelf of baseball bats. Back to where the wrestling mats were stacked. He pulled a couple mats off the stack and piled them onto the floor.

He came over to where Russ was standing, took her in his arms and kissed her. She pressed herself against him and opened her mouth. His tongue took the invitation and entered, playing with hers. His hands reached down to massage her firm, rounded bottom. Her arms were around his neck pulling him down closer to her. She felt an itch growing in her crotch and rubbed herself against him, trying to fulfill this new hunger.

He suddenly dropped his arms and stepped back. "We can do this better with a few less clothes," he said smiling at her. He took off his sports jacket and draped it over the remaining stack to mats. She put her purse down near it, smiled back, and stepped over to undo his tie. It felt good to be helping him, somehow, knowing that she was pleasing him. As she leaned in to unknot his tie, he reached behind her and pulled the zipper halfway down the back of her dress.

She felt his fingers walk gently up the small of her back. It tickled, and she giggled softly. Then his fingers found the clasps of her bra. He unhooked the bra and drew his arm back around, still holding the one bra strap between his fingers. "Here you are, Babe," he said, handing it back to her as if it were a trophy.

Russ leaned over and laid it on the top of the stack of mats. As she did so, the top of the dress slipped forward, and she had to move quickly to keep it from falling away, from exposing her breasts. The cool air hit her erect nipples, and she gasped at the sensation.

The feeling made her stop for a second. There could be no doubt as to what was gong to happen if she let it. Did she want to? Deep within her, there was still some of the old Russ Walsh shrieking "NO!" and pounding against the bars of the magical cage that had him imprisoned inside her mind. She could hear him, but the voice was faint.

Yet, there was another voice, too, the voice of the person that the old Russ had become, Rose Walsh. "Do it," she was saying. "You want it. You need it." Her voice was getting louder. "Listen to your body, not to a past that no longer exists."

"Listen to her body?" Her body was practically screaming at her. Russ realized that Max was kissing her again. He was using one arm to pull her in close to him. His other hand was doing "spider fingers," gently tickling the side of her neck. She moaned and opened her mouth to let his tongue back in.

The kiss lasted a delightfully long time. Then Max pulled away. She was about to say something, when he began kissing his way down her throat. Her hands dropped to her sides, allowing the top of her dress to slide down on her breasts. Both nipples were now fully exposed.

Max's mouth moved down below her neck. His hands reached up and pulled the top of the dress away, revealing her full breasts. His mouth moved to her left breast, sucking and licking at her nipple. His hand went to the other breast. His fingers massaged the breast while his thumb gently rubbed the nipple back and forth. Russ' arms went around the back of his head, pulling his head -- his marvelous mouth --in closer to her.

Jolts of pleasure shot out from her breasts to every part of her body, especially to her vagina. She was conscious of how warm and wet it felt down there. She needed something; needed to fill the growing hunger that she was feeling down there. She knew what she wanted and she grabbed for it. Her hand cupped Max's erection through his pants. One finger slowly ran the length of it. It twitched slightly at her touch. "He wants me, too" she thought, delighted at the thought.

There was no hesitation in her mind, now. And none of the repulsion of having sex with a boy that she'd felt in her earlier fantasizing. The old Russ was still there. Still screaming. But she could barely hear him.

She stepped back from Max, smiling at the look of confusion on his face. "This dress is in the way," she said. She zipped it the rest of the way down and wriggled out of it. When his confusion gave way to a broad smile, she smiled back and put an extra wiggle into her efforts to get it past her narrow waist and broad hips. He liked that. She could tell. She carefully laid the dress on the stack of mats next to her bra. Then she stepped out of her heels and laid down on the two mats on the floor.

Russ raised her arms, inviting Max to join her. He frantically pulled off his shirt, popping one button. Then he simply dropped his pants to the floor. He stepped out of them, stepping out of his shoes at the same time. Her eyes tracked down his large, muscular body, lingering for more than a moment at his massive erection that pushed against the fabric of his boxers.

Max laid down beside her and resumed sucking at her left breast. He took the nipple of her other breast and rolled it between his finger and thumb. His other hand reached down to below her waist. He ran a finger up and down against her vaginal lips through her panties. Russ's breathing became shorter and shorter, her whole body was trembling, and her juices were soaking through the panties.

Russ reached down and pulled his hand away. With her other hand, she began frantically pulling at Max's shorts. "Please," she panted, "I need you."

"But I'm right here, Babe." Max was smiling. Teasing the girl, getting her so hot that she begged for it was almost the best part of sex. You get her hot enough and she'd be willing to do anything for you -- or to you. Rose was hot enough. Now he'd just see what he could get her to do.

"No," she said. "I mean -- oh--"

He had his hand inside her panty now. One finger was moving around her labia, teasing at the entrance of her vagina, while another reached up to pluck at her clitoris like a guitar pick.

Her head went back, her mouth open. She could hardly talk now, moaning more than saying words. Her hips began to pump to match the motions of his fingers. Her hands reached up to rub at her breasts.

Then he took his hands away.

"No," she said. "Please, why did you stop?"

"Did it feel good? Do you want me to go on?"

"Yes, oh, please, yes!"

"Before I can make you feel good, Babe, you've got to make me feel good." He pulled down his shorts and held his erect cock. "Suck it, Babe."

Russ stared at Max. Was he serious? She'd accepted her new, female self, been ready to have sex with him. But this? It was degrading, awful. The small voice of the male Russ seemed to become a shout. "No!" he was saying.

"Don't do it."

But there was another scream. It was her female body. Max had aroused it expertly, and it definitely, urgently, needed to be fucked.

Max sensed her hesitation. He reached down and began to message her pussy through her panties. Her body arched, rising to meet his hand. Her hips were moving to match the motion of his hand. "Uh -- uh -- okay," she gasped. "I'll do it." She sat up and leaned forward, positioning herself for what she was about to do.

"No." His voice was cold. His hand stopped moving.

"What? But I thought you -- "

"Beg me." His hand began to move again, sending bolts of pleasure through her entire body.

Russ had no choice. She had to do something. "Please -- uh, please, let me suck your -- cock."

Max smiled. "Say, 'pretty please'. Tell me what you want to do."

This was horrible, but her body's hunger gave her no choice. "Please. I need to -- uh -- suck your cock; to have it in my mouth; to -- uh --make you cum in my mouth."

"Okay," Max said. "But you better be good, or that's the end of it."

Russ was desperate. She sat up and leaned over him, taking his cock in her mouth. Her hair felt down over his crotch. She felt his cock reaching towards the back of her throat, tasted the salty sweat on it, and fought down the impulse to choke. She remembered what she'd liked as a man and tried to copy it. Her mouth moved up and down the length of it; now taking it deep in her throat, now almost taking it out. As she moved her tongue swirled along it, tickling the sensitive underside, licking at his foreskin.

Now it was Max's turn to moan and buck his hips. She felt his cock begin to twitch. She wasn't ready, no matter how desperate her body felt, to have him spurt in her mouth. But when she tried to move her head away, he put his hands on her head, forcing it to stay where it was. She tried to swallow it all, not to gag, but she wasn't quite fast enough. She coughed and some of the jism oozed out her mouth. It ran down onto her hair and dripped down on his crotch.

Finally, he was done. He leaned back, releasing her head. She sat up and swallowed the last of what was in her mouth.

"That was great, Babe. As a reward, you can come over and lick me clean."

She stared at him. "You need to get fucked. I need a little encouragement to get back into the mood." His voice went cold again. "Do it!"

She had no choice. She leaned forward again and began licking at his limp cock. "What am I doing," she thought. But her body was still in need, and this was the only way to get him to satisfy it.

As she licked, she noticed that his cock was getting hard again. That was good. She wanted -- she needed -- him hard. She ran her tongue the length of his cock, leaned in close to lick once or twice at his balls. Yes, yes! He was ready. She stopped, not wanting him to ejaculate again unless it was inside her.

Russ leaned back on the mats. "There," she said. "Now you do me." She lifted her butt and slid her panties down her legs. She bent her knees and leaned over, pulling them off over her feet and putting them on the floor near the mat. Then she lay back on the mats and waited.

"On your knees, bitch."

"But you promised."

"Oh, I'm gonna fuck you, but we're gonna do it doggy style like the bitch you are." He glared at her and raised his arm. "Move."

"Oh, God," she thought. "He'll hit me if I don't. And I need it so bad."

She turned over and got down on her hands and knees. "Is this okay," she asked. Then, afraid of what might happen -- or not happen -- if she didn't cooperate, she sobbed, "Please, Max. Please fuck me like the bitch I am."

"That's what I like to hear," he said. "A bitch who knows her place."

He moved behind her. His cock slid along her vagina tickling against her nether lips. She moaned and began to move her hips to match the motion as he moved it back and forth. "Hold still," he said, stopping the motion. She bit her lip and forced herself to stop moving. "Better," he said.

His cock slipped inside her and began moving. It was glorious! Her whole body was ablaze with sexual energy. "Can I -- uh -- can I please move," she begged.

"Do it," he said. He was rocking his own hips, and she began moving to match his rhythm. Her head rocked back and forth. Her eyes closed. She could hear moanings from far away and only barely realized that she was the one moaning. She climbed higher and higher, her vagina pulsing as she discovered the incredible joy of the multiple orgasm. There was no here, no now. She had no body. She was only a vagina, filled with Max's magical cock that was shooting jolts of purest pleasure out to every pore of her body.

Suddenly, she heard Max grunt. She felt him spurting jism, it felt like buckets of the stuff, into her. He stopped moving, and she felt his weight on her hips and ass. Then she felt him pull out of her and heard him fall back onto the mats.

She collapsed down onto the mat, rolling over onto her back. She still needed him, but he was just laying there smiling. Hell, he was practically asleep. She sighed and caressed her body. Slowly, she felt herself cool as the need gradually left her.

Russ looked around. There were some towels on a table nearby. She managed to reach out and grabbed one. They were clean and folded. She gently wiped her vagina, trying to lean forward, to let all of the fluids, hers and his, leak out and onto the towel. When much of it was out, she tossed the towel away and grabbed two more. She sat up on one, and wiped at her hair with the other. She'd get to a bathroom as soon as she could, but she didn't want to have to walk around the rest of the dance with Max's jism leaking out of her pussy and drying up in her hair.

By now, Max had revived. He grabbed another towel and wiped himself down. As he did, he stared at Russ. "Pretty good, Babe," he said. "We'll have to do this again some time."

They both dressed in silence. Max didn't see the need to say anything. Russ was too humiliated to speak. And she had to make sure that her hose weren't torn, or that she had his jism on them. The result was that he was dressed and tying his tie, while she was still putting on her bra.

"It'll look better if we don't get seen leaving together," he said, moving towards the door. "Meet me at the gym in five minutes." He opened the door quickly and darted out.

Russ was alone. She felt abandoned and not a little scared. Scared to be caught and scared of what Max might do if she wasn't back at the gym in time. She was just pulling up the dress past her wide hips when she heard a voice.

"How does it feel, Russ?"

She looked up. It was Chloe Weaver, standing before her in the flowing white robe that Russ suddenly recognized from her dream the Sunday before. "What, what do you mean?"

"I said that you'd be properly punished. The old Russ Walsh was a domineering little prick who used girls as sex toys."

"You mean like Max just treated me."

"Exactly. And to a certain extent, you enjoyed it."

"Is that what it's going to be like from now on?"

"Only if you choose to let it be. I remade you into this new person, and my sister reset the pattern so you would see what you had done to Jenny. The female needs that you experienced will remain, and Max knows what he got you to do in here tonight."

"And he'll want to do it again."

"Yes, and a part of you will want him to do it. But another part of you may be strong enough to resist."

"If I do -- if I resist, will you change me back."

"Oh, poor, poor Russ. No, a life thread can only be worked so much. You'll be Rose Walsh for the rest of your life."

"Yeah, Rose the Bimbo."

"Probably. You can change that if you want, but I'm guessing that you won't. That's your real punishment. You know why you became what you are, and you know how to change it, to make something of your new life. But you just won't be willing to work hard enough to avoid it."

With that Chloe disappeared. Russ finished dressing and snuck unseen out of the equipment room. But as she walked back to the dance, hurrying to make Max's deadline, she thought she heard Chloe Weaver laughing.

The End.

Copyright Ellie Dauber, 1999.