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Kid Sister By The Professor Thursday, 24 October, 1996 I've looked at this little book with the pretty pink and yellow flowers on the cover every day since it happened. At first, I just ignored it. It was just one more prop in a play I didn't want to act in. I left it on the desk, dismissing it as something only girls would be interested in. I mean, I've never known a guy to keep a diary. I certainly wasn't going to keep one. Not me. I was a guy, no matter the evidence to the contrary. But I've noticed that with each passing day, I seem to be losing little pieces of myself. When the change happened, I was angry and confused. Now I'm frightened. I had consoled myself with the fact that deep inside, I would always be Daniel Franklin Korby, no matter what the outside looked like. Now I'm not so sure. That's why I've decided to bite the bullet and start keeping a diary. I want to remember who I really am - not what I appear to be. I'm going to keep it my own way, though. If I find myself starting out "Dear Diary" on an entry, I'm going to throw myself off a cliff. I don't even really plan to keep this on a daily basis. I'll just make an entry when there's something I need to say. My greatest fear is that the person I will be in two or three years will pick up this book and wonder why I would ever write this. That person would wonder who this person was. Well, this person is me, and as I fight back the urge to get all emotional and just sit here and cry, I'd better start committing my story to paper. Maybe I should start with a little personal history. That seems in order if I really want to remember the person I used to be. I know I'll probably never completely forget, but I might forget my hopes and dreams if I don't write them down. I don't want to forget them, no matter what. I was born the third son of Grant and Cindy Korby. Dad had been a professional football player, most recently with the San Diego Chargers. His career in football had come to an end about the time I was born. He and my mother preferred San Diego to their native Midwest, so they elected to stay in Southern California. When I was born, Dad had just started working as a stockbroker in a suburban office north of San Diego. It was only a thirty-mile commute from our home in Rio del Diablo. "Rio del Diablo," he would chuckle as I was growing up. "You can tell the Spanish weren't real estate developers. Who in their right mind would call this place 'River of the Devil'?" They had named it with good reason according to the local history I had studied back in middle school. The river that cut its way through the valley in which the town was built was an unpredictable one, providing abundant water for crops one year, running practically dry the next, and swelling with an incredible fury to spread across the desert not far east of town and wipe out half the farms in the valley the next year. It wasn't until the Corp of Engineers damned it up after World War II that the valley really came into its own. By the time my parents had moved there back in the late seventies, the town was pretty well built out, already bordering on other small towns that had grown through the years in the wake of San Diego's explosive growth. It was a nice town, though, filled with middle class families. There were no slums and little crime. In short, it was the sort of town everyone sought. It was safe, fairly new, affluent, and comfortable. My brother Jake was born two years after me, and my parents finally resigned themselves to the fact that they would never have a girl in the family. So with four boys, they concentrated on raising a football team. As I've already mentioned, Dad was a professional football player, playing quarterback at the University of Kansas and shifting to strong safety in the pros. After a slow start with Chicago, he was traded to San Diego where he really came into his own, going to the Pro Bowl three times. Mom was no slouch either. She had been a varsity athlete in her own right, participating in women's track at KU where she held a couple of records that had never been broken. And no, she didn't have the rawboned look of many women athletes; she was an attractive blonde who looked outstanding in a skirt and heels. I don't mention this without a purpose. I just want to note that I came from good stock. My oldest brother, Grant, Jr., is now in his rookie year with the Denver Broncos as a tailback and my next brother, Allen, is a starting safety at UCLA in only his sophomore year. My younger brother, Jake, is coming on strong at wide receiver, and he'll probably replace me - well, would have replaced me when I graduated. Yes, I was a good football player, but I wasn't a dumb jock no matter what some people would have thought. I was a wide receiver, with the big strong hands and 6'3" height which, when coupled with my substantial speed, meant I was an outstanding college prospect. My grades were good enough to get me into Stanford if I wanted to, but I had a strong desire to play for my oldest brother's alma mater, San Diego State. While I was intelligent, I longed to play pro football, too, and the Aztecs had a wide open passing game that would serve me well with the pro scouts. Did I mention I was a pretty good-looking guy, too? No? Well, I was. Okay, so a lot of the jocks who aren't dumb are egotistical. I suppose I was guilty of a little of that. But I had the reputation of being a pretty decent guy. I knew of guys not unlike myself who used their looks and their physiques to intimidate everyone. They'd bully the guys who weren't into sports and pop the cherry of every unsuspecting girl they could find. Not me, though. I had a number of friends who weren't jocks. It came from the fact that my grades were as good as theirs. I think some jocks envy the brighter guys, but not me. I was right up there with them. As for popping cherries, it was mine that got popped. My junior year, I ended up on a date with... well, I suppose I shouldn't write her name down. She's married now. Anyhow, she was a year older than me, and a bunch of us ended up out on a beach at night with some wine. Normally, I didn't drink. The coach had a fit with any guy on the team caught drinking. But it was late spring and all sports were over for the year. I just had a couple of drinks, but it loosened me up. The girl I was with that night practically raped me. I have to admit I didn't mind. The only other time I had a sexual experience was pretty much the same as the first time. Only that was at the beginning of this school year with Vickie Peters. It was no big deal, though. Vickie asked me out, as she had most of the team. We did it in the back seat of Dad's Buick. It was also where I experienced my first - and as it turned out - my only blow job. So there I was, a senior in high school. I was a starting wide receiver with great college prospects, a good grade point average, good looks, girls at my feet, and an upper middle class lifestyle. In short, I was on top of the world. I never dreamed how fast everything could fall apart. It all started last Saturday night. The Rio Red Devils had crushed our homecoming opponent on Friday night. I had caught four passes for seventy-five yards, including the first touchdown of the game - all in front of half a dozen college scouts. My numbers would have been better, but the coach let the second and third teams have all the fun in the second half. My younger brother caught the last touchdown pass of the game. When it was over, we had trounced our opponent 52-10. We were all feeling good. I had a date with Allison Mathews. She was a sweet little redhead I had known since starting high school, but we had never dated before. I was never one of those guys looking for romance in high school. I dated a number of girls, but none of them very long. I think it was because as a young boy, I had known several girls who had been good friends, so I didn't have the urge to find my one true love in high school. I knew that would come in its own time. Allison and I had dated casually off and on for the past year. We could tell early on that there was no spark between the two of us. We were just friends. In fact, there was only one girl in the school who was a closer friend, and that was Jennifer Dawson. Jenny and I were so close we didn't even bother to call our time together dates. Anyhow, Allison and I would date when she was between boys. There were very few guys in our class who wouldn't have gladly surrendered their right nut for the privilege of being the very first guy to get in her pants. Fat chance, though. Allison was a very religious girl. She was "saving herself." I admired that in her, and Allison knew that. That was why we could date every now and then. She knew I respected her decision and there would be no funny business. The party was going great. We even had a live band that sounded for all the world like Hootie and the Blowfish. Everybody was having a good time. I was drinking strictly soft drinks and punch. That is to say, I wasn't slipping outside with any of the guys for a quick jolt of anything with alcohol in it. Coach Hendricks would kill any player caught drinking during the football season, and I wasn't ready to die. I mention this just because I wasn't drunk or high or anything else that night. That's how I know I couldn't have done what they said I did. Allison and I had slipped outside for a few minutes. No, it wasn't to make out; we really had gotten a little hot, and the music was too loud to talk. The party was being held at a local country club, so the grounds were well kept and beautiful in the moonlight. As we walked, we talked about classes and our classmates. Allison was telling me all about a trip she was going to be taking with her parents to Mexico over Thanksgiving when it happened. Right in the middle of the conversation, I blacked out. I had never been out cold before. Even when I had gotten hit in the last game of the previous season, colliding head on with an opposing safety, I had managed to stay alert. Now there I was, walking along with Allison when the lights suddenly went out - way out. The next thing I recalled was a girl screaming. The lights came back on slowly as if the senses were being turned back on one at a time. Even before I could see, I could feel rough hands on my arms, pulling me first backwards and then up to my feet. The screams had changed to cries of fear and distress, and behind me I could hear rough voices yelling, "Get off her!" and "What the hell are you doing?" Then I could see again, and I almost wished I couldn't for what I saw was Allison on the grass behind some shrubbery. There was a long scratch on her cheek, probably from one of the branches of the shrubs, and her dress was torn, literally ripped away, and her bra pulled away so that one full breast was exposed. She was looking up at me with pure horror in her tear-filled eyes. "What?" was all I could manage to say as I was turned to face Coach Hendricks. It had been he who had pulled me up. "Korby, what the hell do you think you're doing?" I had awakened into a nightmare. How could I answer the question when I had absolutely no idea what I had been doing? "I..." I started, but couldn't think of anything to say. "And stick your dick back in your pants, boy!" the Coach growled in a low whisper. "Have you lost your mind?" Maybe I had, I managed to think through the haze. I looked down at my exposed penis and as my face flushed at the sight of several of my classmates - male and female - who had gathered at the sounds of the screams, I managed to stuff it back inside my pants. It wasn't all that easy since it was partially erect. The look of disgust from my classmates will be with me forever. Two other men, one of them a friend of my father's, rushed up. "I called the police," my father's friend told the Coach, indicating his cell phone. "They're on their way." Coach Hendricks looked me squarely in the eye. "This is what comes of drinking," he told me. I started to tell him I hadn't been drinking, but I could taste something in my mouth. Although I never liked it, I could tell it was whiskey of some type. I remained quiet as the Coach went on. "You're off the team, Korby. You'll be lucky if you don't do jail time. If I had my way, I'd lock you up and throw away the key. God damned pervert." I knew he meant it. The Coach had two daughters of his own, not much younger than Allison. He appeared ready to say more to me, but two police officers appeared suddenly. With little preamble, one of them moved me away, one arm held behind my back. I was actually happy to be led away. I was embarrassed to be seen like this by so many of my friends. All of them, even Jennifer Dawson, were looking down or away so they wouldn't have to look at me. The next two hours were a blur. I was still a little out of it. I had never taken drugs in my life, but I imagined this must be what it was like to come off a high. I was confused and inarticulate, barely able to stand as they took away my tie, belt, and the contents of my pockets. I was just staring into space when they took my fingerprints and my picture. Then they roughly shoved me into a cell. At least I had the cell all to myself. I don't think I could have faced anyone at that moment, even another prisoner. I didn't know what to do, so I did something I hadn't done since I was a small boy - I lay back on the cot and began to cry. "Dan!" It was my father's voice, bringing me out of a troubled sleep. It had all been a dream! It was just a terrible nightmare, I told myself. But then I opened my eyes, and the harsh jail light flooded back in. My father was standing over me. "Are you all right?" he asked. There was concern in his voice, and I could see the pain in his face. I always been a son to be proud of, but now, I was in jail, apparently being held for an attempted rape. I didn't know what to say to him. How could I tell him what had really happened? How could I expect him to believe me? "I'm okay, I guess." "Come on," he said, still standing over me without touching me. "I've arranged for bail for you. Let's get you home." The police sullenly gave me my belongings and made me sign for them. I could see the distaste in their eyes. I was a sex criminal, and many of them had daughters I was sure. I wanted to die right then and there. What had I done? I wondered as my father silently drove me home. I didn't remember a thing. Had someone slipped something into my drinks? And why couldn't I remember any of it? It was as if I had suddenly been jerked out of my life and stuffed into this one. How could I possibly defend myself? What must Allison - what must everyone - think of me? My life was ruined in an evening. Nothing would ever be right again. "Your mother is sleeping," Dad said as he guided the car into the garage. "The Doctor gave her something to help her sleep. She's... very upset, Dan." I closed my eyes. I tried not to imagine what it must have been like for her when she found out about me. My mother loved all of her boys, but in a way, I was her favorite. I don't know why, but I was the one she seemed to confide in. I was the one whose goals had matched hers. I wanted to teach and coach at the high school level when I got out of school and finished a football career, and her goal had been to teach as well. Now that goal would be shattered for me. A sex criminal as a teacher or a coach? No way. "Get some sleep," my father told me tonelessly. "We'll talk about this in the morning." Yeah, in the morning, I thought. Then we could start to plan my court defense. Then we could start to figure out what needed to be done with me. Even if by some miracle I managed to get off on sexual assault charges, my life was ruined. I felt like a piece of glass that had been shattered. No matter how many shards of the glass could be found and glued back together, the glass would never be whole - or useful - again. I stumbled into my room, pulling off my jacket and shirt as I went. I didn't even bother to turn on the light, so I didn't see Jake sitting in the corner. "What happened?" he asked softly. Jake and I were the only two boys left at home now that Allen had gone away to college. As a result, we had become quite close. "You wouldn't believe me," I said with a sigh. "Try me." "Okay, why not?" I told him what I remembered. I told him about how great everything was going at the party and how Allison and I had left just to take a walk. I told him about waking up without any idea of what had happened. Jake whistled. "I don't know, Dan. I don't think anybody will buy that story." "Even you?" I asked softly. "I want to believe you," Jake said with sympathy. "I really do. But think about how it sounds. What could make you do this and not remember any of it?"" A perverse hope swelled inside me. "Maybe it's a tumor, Jake," I theorized. "I might have a brain tumor. It might have made me do this and then forget about it." "You sound as if you hope it is," he observed. "Maybe I do," I admitted as I fell into bed. "It's about the only thing that might explain this." "Well, I hope it's not," he told me as he rose to leave. He put his hand on my shoulder. "I'd hate to lose you." It was at least a small comforting thought, and it allowed me to drift off to sleep. I awoke the next morning hoping that the previous night had only been a bad dream, but I knew deep down that that wasn't the case. The horror I had felt upon seeing Allison screaming at me, the antiseptic smell of the jail cell, and the dour look from my father all were too clear in my mind for it to have been a dream. While I felt embarrassed, I did not feel as if I had done anything wrong. Attacking Allison had not been a conscious decision; it just happened. I mean, even if I had been drinking booze and attacked her, I remembered none of it. One moment, we were walking and talking and the next moment, my life had been ruined. No one else was up yet, so I managed to get in a shower and get dressed without my family looking at me as if I were a condemned prisoner. Come to think of it, that might be what I was. I was only out on bail, and I knew enough about the legal system to realize that only meant I was free until tried and - in all likelihood - convicted of sexual assault. What was the phrase? Oh yes: penetration no matter how slight. I just hoped and prayed Coach Hendricks had stopped me before... before I had penetrated Allison. I went out in the yard to pick up the morning paper, cringing as I realized I might even be the subject of a story. At least I wasn't eighteen yet. That meant they wouldn't print my name. A fat lot of good that would do me, though. Everyone in town would know about it by sundown. I picked up the paper just as Jennifer was running by, her long brown hair tied in a ponytail and swinging as she ran. As I said, of all the girls I knew, she was my closest friend. She only lived a couple of blocks away and frequently ran past the house. I had even run with her a few times. As bravely as I could, I called out, "Good morning, Jen." She had been ignoring me I realized, but as I spoke, she stopped abruptly in front of me, her blue eyes drilling into me. "How can you be so calm after what you did?" she muttered in amazement. "How can you even speak to me?" I was taken aback. I hadn't expected that from Jennifer. Oh, I had expected her to be upset, but our friendship went back to when we were both in first grade. She had been there for me when my grandfather died, and I had stood by her four years ago when her sister, Lynn, had died in a car accident. I thought of her almost as family, and I guess I had expected her to react like members of my family had. "I... I'm sorry, Jen," I apologized. "And don't call me Jen!" she snapped. "It's Jenny or Jennifer." "But I've always called you Jen," I pointed out. I didn't add that I had always been the only one who did. "You never minded before." "You never did what you did last night before," she replied. "Look, I'd like to explain about that," I began. I was about to go into my story, but she stopped me with a motion of her hand. "Don't go any further," she ordered. "I'll just get more angry with you. You know Dan, I thought you were special. I thought you were different. But no, you're just like the Swensons." Who were the Swensons? I wondered. Before I could ask that, she was gone, running down the street without another word. "Jen... Jenny," I called after her. "You'll get yours, Korby," she called out over her shoulder. "You can depend on that!" I don't think I had ever felt lower. If Jen - Jenny - felt that way about me, what must everyone else think? I was a pariah. No one would believe me. Most, like Jenny, wouldn't even listen to what I had to say. The rest of the morning didn't go any better. My father continued his stony looks, gruffly responding to me when necessary. Mother still couldn't bring herself to talk to me about it. It was all she could do to keep from crying every time I looked at her. Maybe guys who did the things I was accused of willingly could live with themselves, but I was having a lot of trouble. I didn't even remember what I had done, and I certainly hadn't done it willingly. Thank god for Jake, though. He got me through the morning. He even took me outside so we could throw the football around for a little while. I was go grateful to him that I did my best to hide the fact that every pass from him I caught was a reminder that on top of everything else, I had been thrown off the team. Hell, I realized, I had probably been thrown out of school, too. I considered myself one of the good guys. Sure, I drank a little when I wasn't playing sports, and I had partied a bit. But I had kept myself clean - no drugs, no criminal behavior. The worst thing I had ever done apart from a little trip last summer to TJ to see the sex shows was that little party some of the guys and I had held up the canyon along the river before school started. Even at that, we had just sat around at one of the old line shacks left over from ranching days and drank a few beers. I had a little headache the next day and swore off beer until after the school year. Now here I was, one of the bad guys. Imagine my surprise when I got a call from Jenny. Jake had told me who was on the phone. I was a little relieved. Every time the phone had rung, it had been more bad news. As I expected, the school called to notify me I had been suspended until further notice. My father's attorney had called with the "good news." The District Attorney was only filing lewd and indecent exposure charges and some sort of sexual assault short of rape charge. With luck, I'd only get a short sentence and a lot of probation time. Of course, my life would be ruined, but so what? "Hello," I said hesitantly. I half expected Jenny to just give me hell over the phone. Her voice was terse but steady. "I need to see you." "Why?" After all, she had made it clear to me only a few hours before that she never wanted to see me again. "Let's just say I can help you with your problems." I admit I was a little hesitant. Jenny had made it clear earlier that she thought I was pond scum. Why was she suddenly willing to help me? I supposed she remembered that we had once been the best of friends. And I certainly needed all the help I could get. I looked at my watch. It was a little after two. "Dad has grounded me," I told her, "but I might be able to get away with a short walk. Can you meet me in front of the Samuelson's house?" That was a couple of blocks away and out of sight from my house. I didn't want Dad to see me with Jenny. If he saw me with a girl, he would probably freak out, given what had apparently happened the last time I was with a girl. "Okay. Be there in fifteen minutes." She then hung up. What did Jenny have in mind? How could she help me with my problems? All I really wanted from one of my oldest friends was for her to listen to my side of the story. I mean, there was no doubt I did what I did, but I didn't remember any of it. How could I make her believe me? Slipping out of the house wasn't a problem. Mother was resting again. She seemed on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Dad and Jake were watching a game. Jake had invited me to watch with them, but I couldn't stand the thought of watching a football game knowing my own future in football was nil. I called to my dad that I was going to take a short walk. Apparently when I called out to him, KU was on the five yard line with a third down, so his interest was elsewhere. That was fine with me. I had expected Jenny to come running up to me, but instead, I recognized her behind the wheel of her mother's little BMW Z-3. The top was down and her long brown hair whipped loosely in the breeze. She pulled to a stop and ordered, "Get in." I quickly got in next to her. Without a word, she pulled away from the curb. Then she said, "I got a Coke for you." She motioned to an open can in the cup holder next to me. "Thanks," I said, taking a sip. I didn't say anything. I was waiting for Jenny to talk to me. This was her game. She'd have to set the rules. But she said nothing as she drove, heading over to the main drag, then turning east. "Jenny, something happened to me last night," I finally began, unable to stand the silence. "Sure," she growled. "You just saw Allison and couldn't help yourself." I sighed, taking another drink. "You don't have to be sarcastic about it. Look, Jen - Jenny - I wasn't myself when I did that. I don't even remember doing it. One minute, Allison and I were talking and the next minute Coach Hendricks was pulling me away from her. I honestly don't remember anything in between. You know me, Jenny. You've known me most of your life. If I was that kind of an... an animal, wouldn't you have figured it out by now." She seemed to be quietly considering that as she drove past the edge of town out into the farmland that spread out from the river. "Maybe you had too much to drink," she suggested. Was it my imagination or had her voice softened just a little? "I never drink during football season," I reminded her. "Unless somebody slipped something in the punch last night, I haven't had anything to drink in a couple of months. Jenny, you have to believe me. You have to help me." She looked at me, and her glare softened a little when she saw the tears in my eyes. She even slowed the car a little, as if she was debating about continuing. "I... I..." I tried to speak, but I seemed to be losing my ability to control my voice. Oh no! I thought. Was I starting to black out again? Was the mindless animal who had attacked Allison about to rise up again and attack Jenny? I fought for control. No, this wasn't the same sensation I had felt the night before, but I seemed to be drifting off to sleep. "Dan, the decision has already been made," she said to me as I began to drift off. "I'll do what I can for you, though. I just hope you're telling me the truth." It was the last thing I heard. No, this wasn't like the last night with Allison at all. The night before, I had blacked out, and the time when I had committed my crimes were completely lost to me. But from the time I passed out in Jenny's car until I awakened, I had vague perceptions of what was going on. I felt the brakes of the car grip and heard the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. I could smell the dusty air and feel the sun against my face. I was pulled roughly from the car, and I could hear voices - familiar voices as at least four people, one for each limb, carried me from the car. All of the voices were female, and I could even remember musing that I must have been quite a load for four girls to carry. Then the sun was off my face. I was inside a building, but an old, unused one from the musty smell and creaking boards. I was hot. October in Southern California can be quite warm, and the was little ventilation in the building. "He's waking up!" a girl's voice hissed. "I'll take care of it," another said. I felt my head being held up. There was a bottle at my lips with something cool and refreshing in it. Without thinking, I drank as someone held my head. Then I passed out again. Unlike the night before, I dreamed, but I almost wished I hadn't. It was dark in my dream - not the darkness of night, but rather the darkness of something else - something evil and foreboding. It was the sort of dream where you're standing in a shapeless room and can't even see the walls unless you look right at them. But you aren't looking at the walls to begin with. Instead, you are trying to figure out just what is in the room with you. Whatever it is, it can't be seen; it can only be... felt. And heard. It chuckled softly, amused by my discomfort. I had to get away from it. I had to wake up. I - "Welcome back, Dan." I recognized the voice. It was Stacy - Stacy Palmer, one of the girls in my class. Slowly, I opened my eyes, letting myself be flooded with sensations. It was dark, but I was still in the building. The moldy odor was still there. Moonlight flooded in through an open window, and a cool breeze played over my naked body. Naked? Yes, I was naked. I tried to move an arm to cover myself so Stacy couldn't see me, but my arm refused to move. It wasn't that I was tied down. Rather, I was laid out, spread-eagled on the rough wooden floor, unable to move anything but my head. I turned it from side to side, making out five figures in the semi-darkness. They were all girls from their shapes. I recognized Stacy from her blonde hair in the soft moonlight. Jenny was standing next to her. As for the others, they were too far from the light for me to see who they were. I was relieved to see they weren't carry torches, long knives and wearing black robes, but somehow I got the feeling they might as well have been. "What... what have you done to me?" I managed to ask through drug- thickened lips. "Nothing - yet," another voice replied, amused. This got a little giggle from the group. I thought I recognized that voice, too. Yes, it was Stephanie Long, another girl in my class. Let's see, Stacy, Stephanie and Jenny. That meant the other two were probably Karen Withers and Pam Davison. The five of them hung around together. "We're going to make sure you never do to any other girl what you did to Allison," another voice said. Yeah, that sounded like Pam's voice. "Are we ready to begin?" another voice asked. It was Karen. Hail, hail, the gang's all here, my dulled mind thought. "Not quite." It was Jenny. Good to her word, she was going to help me. Good old Jen - Jenny. "I want to claim him." There was a collective gasp from the other girls. Claim me? What the hell was she talking about? "Jenny," Stacy said softly, "we all agreed..." "I know." I could see Jenny's head nodding in the moonlight. "But this isn't like the Swensons. I mean, Dan's never done anything like this before." "And he never will again after tonight," somebody interjected to sounds of laughter. I couldn't tell who had said it. "No, he won't," Jenny said evenly, "but shouldn't some good come out of all of this? You know what my... my parents have been going through. This is a chance to use this terrible incident for good. I promise you he won't have an easy time of it." They were all quiet for a moment, as if considering Jenny's words. "We'll all see to that," Stephanie said to the added mutterings of agreement from the other girls. "Then it's agreed?" Jenny asked. "No!" It was Karen. Her voice was strong and angry. She got in Jenny's face. "We all agreed what was to become of him and all like him." "I'll take responsibility for him," Jenny argued, holding her ground. "It won't be pleasant for him." "Let her have him!" Stacy broke in, pulling Karen away. Even in the dim light I could see the flash of anger in Karen's dark eyes. "It's nearly midnight. We will all make sure he suffers as planned." Karen relaxed slightly. "Very well, but remember our pledge. He suffers as we planned." As Karen looked from girl to girl, each silently nodded. I began to sweat. What had they planned for me? Were they going to castrate me? I had heard of girls doing that for revenge. I tried to speak, to make them understand that I wasn't a rapist. There was something wrong with me that I couldn't control. It wasn't my fault. But I could say none of that. All that came out of my mouth were unintelligible mutterings. "Oh look," Karen said, her attention suddenly focused on me. "He's trying to talk. Enjoy your nice, deep voice. It's the last time you'll ever hear it that way." My eyes widened. Oh my god, I was right - they planned to castrate me! I suppose looking back on it, they did - in a way. They gathered around me in a circle. I couldn't turn my head far enough to see all of them, but I could hear them, chanting in some language I had never heard before. In the moonlight, I could see their eyes, or at least I could see Jenny and Karen's eyes. Then I realized it wasn't just reflected light in their eyes. Their eyes had taken on a luminescence of their own. The night before waking up over Allison had been a frightening experience for me, but it was nothing like this. I could feel my breathing becoming rapid and irregular. Perspiration was forming all over my body. My muscles hurt as I tried to move - to get up and run as fast as I could - but I couldn't move, except for my head. I could feel my heart beating faster, as if it were about to explode. I thought I might be dying. Then there were suddenly new sensations. My skin began to crawl. It was almost as if there were live creatures under my skin, causing it to ripple and shift. There were other sensations as well. There was a tickling at the back of my neck, a pinprick pain in the lobes of my ears, and my body temperature seemed to be rising to an uncomfortable level, almost as if it were cooking away. I tried to look down to see what was happening to my body, but although I could turn my head from side to side, I was unable to lift it. The muscles in my neck seemed as unresponsive as everywhere else. I could only feel what was happening. I cried out in fear and frustration, surprised to hear that my voice sounded strained and high-pitched. Curiously I felt an erection, as if fear could sexually stimulate me. Then it seemed to ebb, my penis becoming flaccid. Well, not exactly flaccid; it was almost as if it wasn't there. I felt an odd sensation between my legs -not unpleasant but odd. In fact, my entire body felt odd. I felt strange sensations in my nipples, as if the perspiration and the night breeze had combined to make them suddenly sensitive. Again, the feeling was more odd than unpleasant. Just what had happened to me? I wondered as the chanting stopped. Before I could consider it further, I passed out again. It was getting to be a disturbing habit. I dreamed that night - vivid dreams of unimaginable scope. It was as if I was living my entire life in the dream, but not as myself. I was someone else, but I couldn't tell just who. Many of my friends were there, and to my relief, none of them seemed to be angry with me anymore. I needed to know who I was. I looked down at myself and... ...began to hyperventilate. I was alone in a room and no longer asleep. I had heard the gentle morning sounds outside - the breeze, the birds, the occasional hum of tires on pavement. I had opened my eyes, slowly at first for I was still tired. Maybe it had all been a dream. I was in bed, wasn't I? Perhaps I really hadn't been at the mercy of Jenny and her friends. Maybe the dream went back further, to the night before. Maybe I had never assaulted Allison. Awareness came slowly. I began to realize that the room that I was in was not my room. The early morning light showed a room cast in pastel yellows and complimentary whites. The Chargers poster and football trophies were gone, replaced by things I didn't recognize. My covers were not familiar, being more silky and lacy than I had ever known, and as I lay on my back staring down at them, I saw two perceptible bumps beneath them. Worse yet, I could feel the bumps. I sat up with a start. That was when I began to hyperventilate again. My breasts - for I knew that's what they were - swung with gravity, pulling downward slightly. My hips seemed to be a pool of flesh, far more substantial than I would have imagined. Hair fell about my shoulders, and I could even feel it through the thin garment I wore. I tried to control my breathing, uncomfortable with the high-pitched whisper each breath made. My brain overloaded. The sensations that flooded into it were too alien to understand. I had to let it go. I had to scream. I prepared myself to do just that when the door to my room opened and Jenny stepped in. "Shh!" she commanded. I was so surprised to see her that I managed to swallow the scream before it happened. "You'll wake Mom and Dad." "Mom and Dad?" I managed to ask, embarrassed at my high, musical voice. "We're at your house?" "Actually, we're at our house," she replied with a little grin as she sat down on the bed next to me. I looked at her. She was wearing an outfit which I realized was much like my own - a lacy nightie that I later learned is called a chemise. The main difference was that hers was a rose color and mine was white. "Our house?" "That's right," she said brightly. "You're my younger sister now." It took everything I had to keep from passing out again. Jenny only had one sister, and she was dead. I looked down at myself again, then up at Jenny. "I'm... I'm Lynn?" She shook her head. "No. But everyone will think you're a sister I never had. Your name is Megan." "This isn't possible," I mumbled, bracing myself on one arm. Looking down at the arm, it was easy to see it was possible. Instead of my normal large, powerful arm and large receiver's hand, my arm was small and slender, nearly hairless, ending in a small, graceful hand whose fingers were tipped with feminine nails coated in a frosted pink shade. "I think you realize it is possible," she replied. "And before you ask, it was magic. I won't tell you more than that, so don't bother asking. You should thank me, actually. If Karen and some of the others had had their way, you'd be like the Swenson brothers now." "You mentioned them before. Who are the Swenson brothers?" "They're the twin brothers who raped Becky Mitchell in July." I knew Becky well. She dated one of the guys on the team; she had dated him for about a year. Becky was a bright, sunny girl. If she had been raped, I would have heard about it. "Becky wasn't raped," I argued. "Oh yes she was," Jenny insisted. "You just don't remember it. That's because we caught the Swensons just like we caught you. After they were changed into girls, no one - including Becky - remembered anything about the rape. No one but us even remembers the Swenson twins existed. But they know. They're twin strippers at Girlville now." Girlville was a local strip club. Well, as local as any strip club could be. It was a couple of miles out of town on the road to San Diego. Come to think of it, my older brother had gone there a couple of weekends ago while he was home, and he had mentioned something about twin strippers. The word was they could be had cheap. I looked down at myself with a shudder. I tried not to think about what it must be like to bare my new breasts at Girlville, a phony smile on my face while I wiggled for tips. "I don't deserve this," I blurted, almost in tears. "I disagree," Jenny told me bluntly. "You nearly raped Allison. In fact, if you hadn't been stopped before you could, I doubt if I could have convinced the others to let me have you. As it is, it was close as you saw last night." "But I didn't..." I began, unsure where to go with it. I had been caught ready to rape Allison. The fact that I didn't remember doing it didn't change the facts. I let my voice go silent. "Look, if you say anything else about how innocent you are, I'll let Karen and the others have their way with you. It isn't too late, you know. They can have you in platform heels stripping until your boobs sag before you know it if I say the word. Is that clear?" There would be no arguing with her. The look she gave me was the exclamation point at the end of her statement. I looked away to avoid her stare. It was hard to do without looking down at myself, and I didn't want to do that either. "And even if I believed you - which I don't - it wouldn't do you any good." I managed to look up at her. "What do you mean?" "We can always change you into another girl, but we can't change you into a guy again," she explained. "There are limits to the magic." I felt my new, smaller stomach turn and bile rise in my throat. Was she telling me the truth? If she was, then no matter what I said or did, I was condemned to be female for the rest of my life. It was as if my life was over. I suppose in a way, it was. I would never play football - at least not in college or the pros. I would never do a thousand things that I had never verbalized, but would have been part of my life if I had remained male. I would never marry a woman and father a child. I would never catch the winning pass in the Super Bowl. I would never bench press four hundred pounds. I would never be a man. Of course, other doors opened for me as surely as those doors had closed, but I wanted no part of them. As I write these lines, I still don't want them. I don't want to marry a man, get pregnant and give birth to a baby. I don't want to live my life as a woman, although I see no other option. But this was last Sunday, and I found the prospects of living my life as a female even more frightening then than I find them now. How could I do this? Slowly I got out of bed. As Jenny watched, I made my way uncertainly to a full-length mirror behind the door that Jenny had closed when she came in. I watched in silent horror as the unfamiliar girl that was me got closer and closer to the mirror. Through the chemise, I could see the shape of round breasts, still not fully matured but substantial, that bounced subtly behind the gossamer material of the nightie. My hips, I could see were wide, although not as wide as other girls I had known, and my waist was very narrow. My legs were long and well-shaped, ending in narrow ankles and small, shapely feet. My arms were thin. I knew they were normal, but after being a male who lifted weights often, they seemed like weak, useless sticks. My hair was long and brown - the same color as Jenny's, and from the pale white skin and small collection of freckles on my face, I looked like a younger version of Jenny. "How... how old am I?" "Fifteen," Jenny replied. "You're a sophomore again." Then I was the same age Lynn would have been if she had lived. I was actually a little relieved. My face looked so young and my body so girlish I was afraid I was only twelve or thirteen. It would be bad enough going through two years of school again - this time as a girl. If I had to go back to middle school or even elementary school, it would be even worse. At fifteen, I'd still have a little freedom and not be treated like a child. But of course, I wasn't quite old enough to drive now. "Now let me explain the rules," Jenny said, motioning for me to sit down beside her on the bed. When I was seated, she continued, "The only way I could get all the other girls to go along with this was to agree to how you are to be treated and how you are to act. If you violate the rules, my hands are tied, and most of the girls would love nothing better than to make your life miserable." It was already miserable, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut. "You are now Megan Sue Dawson - Meg for short. You will act like a normal fifteen year old girl at all times. That means you will dress like a girl, act like a girl, talk like a girl, and think like a girl." "But I don't know how!" I protested. "I know you don't," she agreed, "but I'll teach you." I said nothing. What was there to say? I couldn't change back if Jenny was to be believed, and since she had never knowingly lied to me, I believed it was true. I would have to learn how to be a girl or die. To be honest, dying didn't seem like such a bad idea. Okay, I was feeling sorry for myself. In any case, I began to feel something welling up inside me. I could feel my lips quivering. Then without warning, I burst into tears. Jenny put her arm around me. "Cheer up, Meg. It won't be that bad. Besides, you're helping three families." "Th...three f...f...families?" I managed through the sobs. "That's right," she replied. "Reality has changed since your transformation. Allison was pretty torn up by what you as Dan did to her." I turned to face Jenny. "But I didn't - " Jenny looked at me sternly. "Remember what I told you? I don't want to hear that." I was silent. "Anyhow," Jenny went on, "Allison is fine now. Nothing ever happened to her. And I'm sure your family is fine, too, without living with the shame of what you did." "But... you mean they don't even remember me?" It was bad enough that I had been changed. Now it seemed I had never existed. "That's right. It's actually easier since you had three brothers. Residual memories they might have of you will be attributed to one of your brothers." I stopped to consider all the things I had done together with my brothers. Jenny was probably right. Many of the things I did could just as easily have been done by one of my brothers. I broke my arm at the age of eight when I fell out of a tree. Allen had broken his at nine. Now if my parents even thought about it, they'd just think of Allen. My god, I wasn't even going to be a clear memory. This was worse than being dead. I never even existed! "You mentioned a third family," I managed to say. "I thought that would be obvious," Jenny remarked. "I was referring to my family. Meg, you and I grew apart a little when we got older. No, don't protest. It's natural. I had girl interests and you had boy interests. Do you remember how Lynn was killed?" I nodded. "Yeah. She died in a car accident." "That's right," Jenny agreed. "Dad had just picked her up from some Girl Scout function. He was tired that evening; he had worked late the night before. He got distracted and ran a red light. He was lucky, but Lynn was killed instantly. Mom never forgave him for that, and to be frank, I don't think he ever forgave himself. Meg, my parents - our parents now - have been on the verge of breaking up. They fight too much and they drink too much. It all started with Lynn's death. "Don't you see? You were the perfect opportunity for me to correct that tragedy. We were going to change you anyway. Why not use you to replace Lynn? No one remembers Lynn now - except me. So you see, our parents don't even remember losing Lynn." "Wouldn't it just have been easier to make me into Lynn? You could have made me forget who I was and warp reality so that everybody believed I was Lynn and that the accident never happened," I pointed out. "It takes all of us to do the magic," she explained. "I might have done that if I could do it alone. The other girls wanted you punished for what you did to Allison. You had to remember who you had been so you'd remember what you lost. You have to be a girl even though you don't want to be. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a punishment." That still didn't explain why she hadn't turned me into Lynn. There was something she was hesitating to tell me. I didn't know what it was. In fact, I still don't. Whatever it could be, I would have to wait to find out. I suspected it was just because she couldn't stand to have me pretend to be Lynn. Better to have me be an entirely new sister and have her parents believe that Lynn never existed. "Now our parents will be up soon," Jenny went on. "They'll want us to go to church with them. I have a lot of things to go over with you, so let's get started." I was sure I wasn't going to like my lessons in girlhood, and I was right. The first thing I had to learn was basic feminine hygiene, like how to take a pee and wipe myself. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to release my now-full bladder, but I found taking a pee no more difficult than as a male. The only difference, of course, was that I now had to squat to pee. I watched in morbid fascination as I wiped myself. The feminine slit was clearly visible through my silky pubic hair, and as I wiped, I realized that it wouldn't be long until many guys considered that innocuous little bit of anatomy as a grand prize. I vowed to myself to make sure that day was a long time off. Jenny had me take a quick shower. She emphasized the quick part. I think she was afraid that the pervert part of me might want to play with all the new parts. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I tried very hard to spend as little time washing the emptiness between my legs as possible. And as for the breasts, I reddened slightly every time I looked down at them. I was particularly distressed to see the oversized pink nipples become slightly erect as the water cascaded off them. I winced at the thought of putting on silk pink panties and a matching bra, but I had to admit - only to myself of course - that they felt right over my altered body. They clung reassuringly to my skin. It felt strange to be putting on panties without a slit in them. Of course, I thought with a sudden twisted inspiration, they did have a slit in them - all the way in them. Of course, even if there had been a slit in the front, it wouldn't have done me much good. My days of standing at the urinal were over. Many people went to church dressed casually. It had to be my luck to be thrust into a family that still believed in dressing up for church. Jenny patiently showed me how to put on panty hose and a dress, selecting the proper jewelry to go with the demure little blue and white floral print dress that I was wearing. I think I might have been able to stand the dress and the pantyhose and even the black one-inch heels that I quickly learned to balance in, but I was sure then and I'm sure now that I will never learn to like makeup. Jenny found lipstick that matched my nails, and worked like an artist on my eyes. Fortunately at fifteen, I needed only a minimum of foundation, so I was spared feeling too much like a clown. When she had finished, I looked again in the mirror. The little girl I had feared was only twelve during my first glance in the mirror had disappeared. In her place was a very attractive young woman. From my long brushed hair accented by small pearl earrings to my small, heeled feet, I was someone who was bound to attract attention. I nearly gasped when I saw myself. "Not bad, huh?" Jenny remarked with a grin. I didn't know what to say, but I knew what I was thinking: No, not bad at all. Jenny got ready while I stayed in my new room, familiarizing myself with my new surroundings. She was right, I supposed. It could have been a lot worse. It was better to be her kid sister than a known sex criminal, that was for certain. And it was far better to be her kid sister than to be a stripper down at Girlville like the Swensons. Even though I couldn't remember them, I pitied them - doomed to be strippers and horny sluts for the rest of their lives. Did they know who they had been? I assumed they did. That made it all the worse. At least I knew Jenny's parents and had always liked them. I was sorry to hear her real sister's death had hurt their relationship so badly. It gave me a little peace of mind to realize that by becoming Meg, I might be helping them. I looked at myself in the mirror again. Well, if I had to be a girl, it was better to be a cute one. Still, those slender arms and small hands would never catch a pass again. The only passes I was going to catch were the kind I didn't want. Okay, so I wasn't going to be much of an athlete. I had always been a good student, and repeating most of high school meant that I'd know how to ace most of the classes. So I was stuck with brains and beauty. I suppose for a lot of people that wouldn't be much of a punishment. Wait a minute, I thought. The girls had indicated I was to suffer. Did they have more in mind for me? I'd have to stay alert. But in the mean time, I'd just have to be Meg. If Jenny thought I was knuckling under and being a good kid sister, I might have time to figure out how to keep control of my life. I might be stuck as a girl, but I was going to be one on my terms. My resolve almost collapsed in church. It was bad enough to present myself as Meg to Jenny's unsuspecting parents, but it was quite another thing to go to church with them and face a number of my old friends. There I was, in the United Methodist Church with my new family, while several of the guys I had known and played football with tried to hide their stares. I told myself at first that they were looking at Jenny, but I knew better. They were looking at both of us. And it wasn't just the guys who were looking at me. Pam and Karen were sitting together, and when they saw me, they both grinned at me and snickered to themselves. I hoped they choked on it. After church, "Dad" took us to breakfast. Richard Dawson was a nice guy. I had always liked him. Like my father - my real father - he had played football, but only through college. He had become a CPA after college and now headed his own small firm. He was in his early forties, a little overweight, and starting to get a little thin on top, but his hair was dark brown without a trace of gray. My new mother, Jan Dawson, looked a lot like an older version of Jenny - and presumable me. I supposed if I could look like her at forty, I wouldn't be doing so badly - for a girl. Apparently, my presence had already had an effect. My new parents seemed to be deeply attached to Jenny and me - and to each other. The bitter memories of losing Lynn were gone. Whatever memories they had of Lynn were now attributed to me. "So what happens now?" I asked Jenny once we had gotten home and were alone again. "Nothing happens. You just live your life as Meg," Jenny told me with a shrug. "I don't believe you, Jenny," I said as I put on a pair of jeans while Jenny watched with amusement. She frowned at me. I began to fear I had crossed the line with her, but there was no going back. "What are you talking about?" "I don't think your friends are content to just make me your kid sister. They have something else in mind." She relaxed a little bit. "You're right, they do. They want you to be a slut. If they had had their way, you'd be one of the biggest sluts in the school. We could have done that. You could have been one grade A little sex bunny." I shuddered at the thought. "But I'm not." Then worried, I added, "Am I?" She shook her head. "No, you're just a normal girl with normal sex drives. I made sure of that when you were changed. I've got enough power to do that." "So where did your power come from?" I asked, slipping on a T-shirt that did little to hide my breasts. "I told you not to talk about that." "Oh, come on," I urged. "What would it hurt you to tell me? I'm just curious." It was a true statement. Like most people, I thought magic was something a guy in a tux did on TV. I never expected to find out it was real - particularly in such a dramatic fashion. Besides, the more I knew about what had been done to me, the more I could protect myself from any further magic. I didn't want to find myself yearning for some guy's cock, thanks to another magic spell. "All right," she said after a moment's hesitation. She sat down on the bed as I finished dressing. "Stacy's boyfriend found a medallion and gave it to her last summer. It turned out to be some sort of magical device." "How did you figure that out?" "We had it researched," she explained. "We found it was something the Indians in this area had back before the Spaniards settled here. It apparently gave tribal shamans magical powers. We started experimenting with it." "So you changed the Swensons into strippers. Is that all it will do?" I asked, sitting next to her. "Does it just change males into females?" "We don't know yet," Jenny admitted. "It may have other powers, but we haven't figured them out yet." I kept quiet. Of course it had other powers. It could shift reality. Otherwise, everyone would have known the Swenson boys had disappeared. Just like everyone would know that Dan Korby had disappeared and that Meg Dawson never existed. I didn't want to point that out to Jenny just yet. It was almost as if she wasn't really aware of the significance of the medallion. Why wasn't she? Jenny was a very smart girl - so were her friends for that matter. It was as if their judgment was impaired. I don't know why I realized this when she didn't. Feminine intuition? Yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was because I had been exposed to the process without being one of the wielders of the magic. I'd just have to file that thought away until later. No sense in alerting anyone of my suspicions. I spent the day studying, interrupted by phone calls from "friends." Most of the friends were kids I knew. After all, our high school wasn't terribly large - just a couple of hundred students in each class. So we knew each other, either from sports or other activities. Some of my new friends were younger siblings of my former classmates. Meg seemed to be a fairly popular girl, judging from the number of phone calls I got. I was starting to wonder if I would get any time to study. Brains and beauty, I told myself. I had to do well in school. Fortunately almost every course I seemed to be taking was a course I had taken before as Dan. That meant I didn't have to focus on the concepts. Instead I could focus on the details, giving myself that little edge that was often the difference between an A and a B. As I studied, it was almost normal again - almost like I was myself. Then suddenly about three that afternoon, I realized I was missing the Sunday games. The odd thing was that I didn't seem to care. Now that was quite unlike me. That was the first inkling I had that something had changed besides my body. If I concentrated hard, I still liked football, just as I had as Dan. But if I didn't think about it, it became unimportant. What else had changed? I hesitated to think. Maybe I should start to write things down. While going through my desk, I had found a diary. "Meg" had apparently begun the diary at the beginning of the school year. I glanced at the first page with its feminine start of "Dear Diary." Gag me with a spoon. I threw the flowery book back into the desk drawer as if it were radioactive. You'd never catch me using a diary. Not me. But I had to keep track of who I really was and what I really thought, didn't I? There had to be another way, though. No diary for me. Not now - not ever. So I made it through my first day of girlhood. Maybe it was just the shock of the change, but it didn't seem too terrible. I wondered if prisoners got through their first day in prison the same way. Maybe just the shock of being trapped by prison walls dampened all other feelings. Maybe the shock of my transformation was sufficient to dampen my emotions. After all, shouldn't I be crying and beating my chest (or should it be breasts?)? Somehow that seemed counterproductive. Besides, it was probably what Jenny and her friends wanted me to do. Well, maybe not Jenny. While she had not exactly been her old friendly self with me, she had not mistreated me. God knows she had the perfect opportunity to rub it in. She could easily have been taunting, "How does it feel to be a little girl, little girl?" followed by maniacal laughter. She could have forced me to wear something frilly all day if she had put her mind to it, instead of the jeans and T-shirt I had found actually both modest and comfortable. For the most part, she left me alone, just like most big sisters would do, I suspected. After all for the most part, my older brothers had left me alone when I was a boy and I usually left Jake alone. The real challenge would be the next day, I realized as I got ready for bed. I would have to face all my old friends in the body of a sweet young girl. I had gotten a little taste of it at church, but I knew the next day would be far worse. I couldn't then have imagined how much worse it would be. "You look great," Jenny said with an evil grin the next morning. I didn't feel great, though. I hadn't argued when Jenny had helped me pick out an outfit. After all, another T-shirt and overalls seemed a modest outfit for my first day in school as a girl. Silly me. I hadn't realized the overalls would be cut as shorts. "Shortalls" some of the girls called them. This left my smooth, feminine legs exposed. I missed my tanned, muscular legs covered in dark hair. And the T-shirt wasn't the plain one I had worn the day before. Oh, it was still plain, but it was a pastel yellow with lacy trim at the sleeves and neck. And the cut of the overalls didn't disguise my breasts as I had hoped; rather it emphasized them. At least I got to wear tennis shoes, but the lacy tops on the socks were almost too much. Jenny had helped me again with hair, makeup and accessories, but she had made me do more of it while she critiqued me. Unfortunately, I did too good a job. If I had been male and spotted a girl who looked like me, I would have probably walked into a tree while staring. No, this wasn't going to be a very good day. Things really went downhill from there. Jenny offered me a ride to school. Stacy was picking her up in a few minutes. I agreed. I didn't really want to face Stacy, but I had even less desire to face a school bus loaded with my classmates. I should have taken the bus. "Don't you look hot today!" Stacy commented with a nasty little laugh as I climbed in the back seat of her car. Jenny flashed me a look that warned me to be quiet. "I think your little sister is going to be a heartbreaker," Stacy went on when Jenny had gotten in beside her. "And in another year or so, those pretty little breasts might be even bigger. Then she'll really stop traffic." My face was flushed. I knew Stacy was enjoying my embarrassment. She wasn't the only one. When we pulled up in the parking lot at school, Stephanie, Karen and Pam were waiting for us. They were having a grand time watching me bend over to get my books out of the seat. "Ooh, nice ass, girl," Pam called to me. I took an extra moment fumbling with my books so they couldn't see how red my face was. "Great outfit, too," Karen called out. "It's very feminine." They all laughed at that - even Jenny. "So, do you have a date yet for this Friday?" Stephanie asked as we entered the building and walked toward our classes. As if on cue, Andy Thompson, a sophomore halfback on the football team, turned from his locker and faced me. "Hi, Meg," he said smoothly. "How about you and me - after the game Friday?" Something told me his mind had been nudged to ask me out. I had no doubt of it when I heard Karen snicker, followed by the others. "We'll see you later, Meg," she said, and just like that, I was alone with Andy. As Meg, I had spoken with a couple of guys on the phone Sunday. They had called just to talk, and I had gotten rid of them fairly quickly. At church, I had spoken to a couple of boys after church, but I was with my "family" and could hurry away. This was the first time I had been forced to stand and talk to a guy one on one since my transformation. And I didn't like it. Why? Well, the main reason was that standing there, talking to Andy, something started stirring inside me. As Dan, I had talked to Andy - and other guys like him - every day. But this was different. He towered over my new form, every part of his body a reminder of what I had lost. He was tall and I wasn't. He had broad shoulders and muscular arms while my shoulders