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The Delight of a Mean Spirit By The Professor I didn't know it at the time, but while I was enjoying one of the happiest days of my life, I was being cursed. It was a fantastically beautiful spring day in Boulder. Even without the enhancement of magical weather control, I think it would have been beautiful. The skies were virtually cloudless (rain was only permitted at night) and the temperature was warm without being hot. It was shorts and halter-top weather for girls, and the coeds strolling to their afternoon classes were a sight to behold. And I had beheld one at lunch that day. Becky Samuelson, so lovely that she was truly a Kappa among Kappas, had consented to go out with me Saturday night. Oh, I knew she had just broken up with her latest boyfriend, and I had no illusions about how long I would last with her, but Becky had a reputation that involved going all the way with all her dates. Saturday was truly going to be a night to remember. In a little over forty-eight hours, I was going to get laid. And no, it wasn't the first time, but it happened infrequently enough that it was an exciting prospect. And even better than Becky's consent (if such a thing were possible), I had aced my History of Magic class. Professor Morley had actually given me an A on my final paper. Since there was no test in the class, I could coast for the last three weeks. I really didn't even have to attend lectures but I would. It had actually been an interesting class. Professor Morley was not a particularly talented wizard, but his commitment to the fledgling field of magic had made him one of the most respected names in the discipline and had made the University of Colorado one of the acknowledged leaders in the field. Under his direction, the department of Magic had attracted some of the top magical instructors and students in the world. I hadn't expected to do very well in the class. My magical aptitude according to the Webster-Kline scale was only twelve. That meant I couldn't even do decent card tricks. You had to have a score of at least ninety before you could take any technical magic classes. To major in the field, you had to have a WK score of at least one-twenty. That's how I ended up in History of Magic. It was the only three-hour course I could take which would meet my Magic requirement. To my surprise, it had turned out to be an interesting course. I was only barely out of elementary school when Peter Webster and Avis Kline discovered and quantified magical essence in its virus form. Of course, even they had no idea that it couldn't be contained in a lab. They had done their research under the auspices of the Pentagon. The idea was to create a magically adept corps of soldiers to aid in combat. All it took was one lab technician who got a little careless and the virus got loose. It infected both Webster and Kline and they infected others. Within a year, nearly everyone in the world had been exposed to the virus. So much for military secrets. Unlike other viral infections, this one was something everyone wanted to get. Its symptoms were mild - just a slight sore throat and a little aching in the joints. But once contracted, the virus attuned its "victim" to the magical forces which had always been there, but had been inaccessible to most people. "Milder, natural cases of the virus explain shamans and other magical practitioners," Professor Morley would explain from the podium. "But these cases almost always involved a single individual who was probably already attuned to magic. What Webster and Kline did was improve upon the virus; they made it able to survive in air and spread." He had been a terrific instructor. As Department Chairman, he didn't need to teach the course, but he did it because he enjoyed it. He had made his subject come alive. He energetically described the rise of magic into the incredible force for good we now enjoyed. In the last five years, magic had become a potent force in the world. We can influence the weather, cure troublesome diseases, solve crimes - you name it. Of course, it's an infant science, but we're learning. It seems as if there's a new magical discovery every week - some important and others not. The only downer was that I realized that for all the wonders magic promised, I was forever locked out of the growing field. That doesn't mean I wouldn't have majored in biology if my WK score had been high enough to major in magic, but it would have been nice to have the option. Besides, biologists who could wield magic were making incredible progress in communicating with animals. There had even been advances in modifying certain species - even raising their intelligence and that sort of thing. None of that was for me, though. Back in high school, I really looked forward to getting the virus. I had dreams of contracting the virus, raising my magical ability though the roof, and becoming a first class wizard. But then I took the WK test and... Zip. Nada. Nothing. I had all the magical ability of a rock. It wasn't all that uncommon. Thirty percent of people who contracted the virus demonstrated no magical skills. Another forty percent could bend spoons and that sort of thing but had no practical skills. Only a very few had what could be called useable talents. I think I would have been satisfied just to be able to bend a spoon. But so what if I couldn't use magic? It was a beautiful day, I had a date coming up with Becky Samuelson, and I was acing the course I had worried about the most. What could go wrong? That was a question I should never have asked myself. In the midst of happy thoughts, my body unexpectedly shuddered. It was like having my own little personal earthquake. It seemed as if every part of my body involuntarily trembled. Then, before I had a chance to really panic, the trembling went away, leaving me swaying from side to side as I stood there. "Hey, Mitch, are you okay?" a voice called from behind me. I turned to see a very concerned look on the face of my best friend and roommate, Warren Hobbs. "Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, trying as much to convince myself as Warren. "You don't look fine," he said with concern. Since he had upon occasion held my head over the toilet while I barfed up about a gallon of beer, he was something of a judge of my condition. To be honest, I wasn't fine. My stomach was churning and I was a little dizzy. Finally, unable to fight it any longer, I plopped to the ground, my class notebook which contained my A paper spilling out of it. Warren rushed to collect the papers before the light spring breeze blew them away. "My god!" he exclaimed as he saw the grade on the paper. "You did it!" "Yeah," I managed to agree weakly. "Professor Morley really liked it. He said I might even be able to get it published." Warren frowned at a smudge of dirt that had marred the front page. He absently made a magical sign and dissolved the smudge at once. I sighed. Even Warren had some magical power, even if it was limited to simple things like cleaning dirt off my paper. I would have killed just to have his simple powers. "Yeah, well maybe so," he allowed. He had already read the paper. I had shown it to him before I turned it in. I knew he wasn't terribly impressed with it. It dealt with the development of transformation spells to cure human ailments. It was a relatively new field, but in the past few years, spells had been devised to cure or at least curb most serious human ailments. I think Warren didn't like it because he had once planned to be a doctor. Now that career was closed to him since his magical skills were far too weak to be of much use in medicine. The paper was a reminder of that. Now he was a business major who would probably go home to Omaha and help run his father's multi-million dollar consulting company - all the time making a nice fat salary. Yeah, poor Warren. The paper had actually been inspired by my former girlfriend Amy. She had the magical skills to eventually be a doctor. In fact, that was her plan. She had helped me with my initial research but that was all. We had broken up in February - just before Valentine's Day. So I had written most of the paper on my own. Bummer. Warren seemed to be reading my thoughts, but I knew that was far beyond his magical abilities. "Hey, maybe you should tell Amy. It might be a chance for you to get back together with her," he suggested. "No," I replied, shaking my head. "That's off for good." And it was, too. I had been the one to break it off. I had liked Amy Witherspoon - I mean I really liked her. But she had a strong magical talent. There was no way in the world I would be able to keep up with her. I liked to think I was being noble, but I wasn't. The fact was, I was just a little bit frightened of Amy. It's funny, but there was a time when a woman sometimes feared getting too involved with a man because, being bigger and stronger, the man might hurt her. Those days were pretty much gone now, but a new form of abuse had reared its ugly head - magical abuse. Sex didn't matter now since masculine strength could be counterbalanced with magical ability. It was a little hard for an aggressive man to hurt a weaker woman when she possessed the ability to paralyze him. In our brave new world, it was actually more likely that a wife might abuse a husband. That wasn't too far fetched. On the whole, women were far better at magic than men. It seemed to be at least partially gene linked. Women on the average scored twenty points higher than men on the WK tests. A man might have the physical strength, but he could be powerless against a spell-casting woman. So there it was: Amy frightened me. She had been wonderful at first, but over the nearly six months we had dated, she became more and more dangerous as far as I was concerned. It had started just before Thanksgiving. We were at a fraternity party and I had decided along with some of my fraternity brothers to light up a cigar. Amy hated smoking - or at least she hated my smoking. Even though magic was in the process of making cancer pretty much a thing of the past, she said kissing me after I smoked was like kissing an ashtray. But I defied her that night, slowly puffing on that cigar. "You should be careful," she said calmly, pushing a golden lock of hair behind her ear. How was I to know that was the start of a spell? "Why's that?" I said, taking a deep drag on the cigar. Then I felt something hot near my lips. As I felt a burning sting on my lips, I spit the cigar out of my mouth. When it hit the floor, it was nothing but dead ash. "You might get burned," she said with a smirk. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I yelled, practically bringing the party to a quiet halt. "You might have burned my face." She shrugged. "I could heal it." Our argument was interrupted when one of my fraternity brothers came over to talk to us. That effectively ended the discussion, but as the evening wore on, I found myself still agitated by the incident. She might have hurt me, I realized, and although she could probably heal me as she had said, I would have experienced a lot of pain. And all of that just to prove a point. Things had gone downhill from there. We continued to date, but at the risk of using an ironic turn of phrase, the magic had gone out of our relationship. I shouldn't have been surprised. The lovelorn columns in every paper were filled with mixed relationships between the magically adept and the magically deprived. They seldom worked, it seemed. So with considerable trepidation, I broke off our relationship just before Valentine's Day. She had been calmer about it than I thought. I was grateful for that. I thought we managed to at least part as friends. Little did I know... Warren walked me back to the fraternity house. I felt okay, but I was happy for his help. It must have been a stress reaction, I thought. Or rather the aftermath of stress. Too much excitement in one day had probably set off a little extra charge of adrenaline. I charged up to the third floor room I shared with Warren and dived onto my bed, closing my eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?" Warren asked with concern. "Sure, I'm fine," I replied. "I'm just a little tired." I was telling the truth. I was tired. Even the short walk back to the house had worn me out. All I wanted to do was sleep. I hoped I wasn't coming down with something. "You want me to wake you for dinner?" "Nope," I managed to say, my reply muffled by the pillow I had buried my face in. "Not hungry." That was my last clear thought as I drifted off to sleep. Thursday morning came with Warren shaking me gently. "Rise and shine, pal." As I grunted and rolled out of bed, I was somewhat relieved. Whatever had bothered me the night before seemed gone now. I felt like my old self. It must have been nothing more than a mild virus, I thought to myself. What a relief! I would have hated to come down with something serious that would have kept me from a little action with Beck on Saturday night. Here it was, Thursday, and I felt fine. Saturday would still be on. Warren suggested I take a couple of aspirins, just to be on the safe side. I took his advice and rolled right on through Thursday as if nothing had happened. Of course with finals coming up in a few days, I had plenty to keep myself occupied without worrying about the aftereffects of a little virus. Little did I know that my problem on Wednesday was merely a foretaste of what was to come. While I had no inkling when I got up on Friday that there was something wrong, little clues began to crop up. But how could I have anticipated what was to come? "I need a haircut," I told Warren that morning, staring into the mirror. As he gathered his notes for class, he laughed, "You always say that. As it is, the only guy in the house with shorter hair is Ralph." Yeah, and Ralph was in ROTC. With my short hair, I'm sure some people thought I was, too. Well, I had just always liked short hair. That way, I didn't have to mess with it much. That Friday, though, it was actually threatening to hang over my ears. And it looked a little different, too. It appeared - how to say it? Shinier. Yes, shinier was the word. My hair was normally a dull brown. That was one of the reasons I kept it short. It wasn't one of my best features. I had yet to have any girl want to run her fingers through it. Now although still brown, it had picked up a sheen that made it look almost bright with just a touch of red or maybe dark blonde in it. It had to be my new shampoo, I reasoned. Maybe all the hype on that stuff was for real. I got dressed quickly in a dark blue fraternity T-shirt and a pair of cutoffs. It looked like a nice warm day, so shorts were certainly in order. Then I headed off to class. At the time, I considered that day just another normal day. My classes were moderately interesting, but my mind really wasn't on them. I was a little groggy; I had had trouble sleeping Thursday night - probably because of all the additional sleep I had had the night before, and the fact that it was a beautiful spring day didn't help much. The only indication I had that something was amiss was the sudden heightened sensitivity of my skin, but that wasn't enough of a problem to set off alarms. It seemed as if every square inch of my skin itched. It was a mild itch - not the kind where you feel the need to scratch it until it turns red and raw. The worst of it came from my chest and crotch, causing me to wonder if I was allergic to the laundry detergent I had been using. In class I scratched at my chest, carefully avoiding the nipples, which seemed particularly sensitive, but decorum prevented me from scratching my balls which seemed to itch persistently. As my last class ended, I stayed behind until everyone else had left the room. Then I scratched furiously at my balls until I got at least momentary relief. I also scratched my legs and was suddenly alarmed as I noticed small amounts of leg hair embedded in my fingernails. Jeez, I hadn't meant to scratch that hard, I thought. I decided to go back to the house and take a long shower. Maybe that would get rid of whatever was bothering my skin. It did help, I thought with relief as the water coursed over me. I closed my eyes and let the water sooth my troubled skin. The itching was going away, slowly but surely. I sighed with relief. Getting out of the shower, I felt like a new man. I toweled down briskly, feeling great until I noticed a problem - my towel was covered with hair. I looked down at my body. Now I have been as hairy as an ape since I was a junior in high school. I had to shave twice a day if I wanted to look well groomed. Every part of my body with the exception of the soles of my feet and the palms of my hands were at least somewhat hirsute. Yet here I was, shedding hair faster than a longhaired cat. Oh, I still had plenty of hair on my body. In fact, I was still hairier than most guys, but there was still no denying that I was losing hair. I wondered with unease what could be causing it. Was I allergic to something? Or worse yet, was I ill? In the back of my head, I realized that many of the things that could cause my hair to fall out were serious - even fatal. The back of my head? My head! Oh my god, was I losing the hair on my head? I didn't want to be bald. Bald guys are old - or at least they look that way. Girls usually were turned off by baldness; I was sure of that. And what about Becky Samuelson? What would she say when I picked her up, my head as smooth as a bowling ball. With trepidation I reached up and touched my hair, expecting to pull loose an entire handful of brown hair. I was relieved when my hand came back empty. Whatever was causing my hair loss was not affecting the hair on my head. As my panic level dived downward, I noted again that I could use a haircut. Something was wrong with me, I told myself as I toyed with my food at dinner. Now I was no fool. Magic curses were a fact of life, and I wouldn't put it past one of my fraternity brothers to use one for a little practical joke. Many of the guys, unlike me, had a little magical ability. Usually, it wasn't enough to be of practical value, but it was great for playing pranks. So maybe I was sick and maybe I was cursed. Great. But no one had owned up to cursing me. "Hey, man, you gonna eat that meatloaf?" Dustin asked me from across the table. "Uh... no," I replied, pushing the plate in his direction. I just wasn't hungry. "Thanks, man," he said, stuffing half a slice of meatloaf into his mouth at once, leaving only a small corner of his mouth unblocked. That was where he stuffed a slice of bread. Dustin was something of an intramural jock, so I supposed he would burn off the calories. It almost made me sick though, to sit there watching him stuff his face. "Still under the weather?" Warren asked from the end of the table. "Yeah," I agreed. Jeez, apparently I looked so bad Warren could tell from most of the way down the table. "It must be that virus I had." "Or a curse," Fergus suggested from across the table. We all looked at him. Fergus was our duty weirdo. Every fraternity seems to have one. He looked at our skeptical gazes and explained, "Last summer in Chicago, there was this guy I knew. He put the moves on this girl, see? So she got all turned off but he wouldn't stop, you know? And anyhow, she cursed him. He felt like shit for a couple of days." "And that's all?" Phil asked from his seat next to Fergus. "Hell, no it wasn't all, man," Fergus said. "He couldn't get it up after that. He had to go to a wizard - a specialist no less. It set him back a bundle." "So is he okay?" somebody else asked nervously. After all, in an age of magic this was sounding a lot like every guy's nightmare. "Yeah, I guess so," Fergus said. "What do you mean 'I guess so'?" I asked. The last thing I wanted was a date with Becky with no steam in the pipe. Fergus shrugged. "I mean I guess so. Hey, man, I didn't fuck him. If he told me it was okay after that, I'll just have to take him at his word." Was I cursed? I began to seriously wonder as I climbed into bed that night. And if so, who had done it and what was the nature of the curse? I still didn't think it really was a curse. It seemed more like a virus or something. A virus could make you feel weird, make you tired, and hit suddenly. I exhibited all of those symptoms. Of course, I realized darkly, a curse could do all of that, too. But it had to be just a virus. It had to be. Next question: on the offhand chance that it was a curse, who could have done it to me? Well, the answer to that wasn't as easy as it sounded. Curses could actually be accidental and often were. It was like that old science fiction movie, Forbidden Planet, with its "monsters from the id." People often exercised "curses" without even knowing it. Comments like "I wish he knew how I felt" could manifest themselves in strange ways. Of course, unintentional curses were usually very mild, resulting in little disorders such as a sneezing fit or, in my case, a little virus. And I couldn't think of anyone who would dislike me enough to intentionally curse me. I hadn't pissed anybody off in quite a while. But if it was a curse, what would it do? Well, for starters, it couldn't be too bad. Why? Well, say you had magical powers and were feeling particularly mean and nasty. You decide to give someone a cancerous tumor. Fine, but how do you create cancerous cells? Without a detailed knowledge of how cancer works, you could never recreate it in someone. It was fairly easy to make cancer cells disappear (if you had magical talent), but creating them was something else again. So in conclusion, it was likely it wasn't a curse, but if it was, it shouldn't be too bad. I kept repeating that as my mantra as I slowly fell asleep. I seldom remembered my dreams, but I remembered the one I had that night. It started out great. I was out on a date with Becky. We were apparently going to a fraternity formal at some nameless hotel. She was looking fine in a short white dress that exposed both her long, slender legs and a hint of her full, ripe breasts. We were on the dance floor together when the dream got weird. I looked down at her and noticed something was wrong. Her hair was short - almost a crewcut. And her chest had become flat. But if her chest was flat, what was that pushing out? Oh shit, she had a... I looked away from... her and down at myself. I gasped in horror as I stared at my shirt. It was bulging forward from the pressure of what were obviously breasts. Something was tickling on my neck. I reached up with suddenly delicate fingers to feel long hair. And then... ...I woke up. I was breathing heavily and soaked in sweat. My mind in a state of panic, I reach down to my chest and discovered to my sudden relief that it was flat and hairy. I sighed. The dream had been so real. I scratched my head. Well, one thing in the dream was right - my hair was too long. But it wasn't long as it had been in the dream. It was just getting a bit too shaggy. I again reminded myself to get a haircut and drifted back to sleep. Everything seemed back to normal on Saturday. I was continuing to lose a little body hair, but it seemed like nothing serious. Still, I resolved to get it checked out if it continued. The itching was coming back again, but not as bad as before. My self-diagnosis led me to conclude I had some type of skin disorder probably brought on by an allergy - or maybe by the virus. It was the only reasonable answer. Then at last it was Saturday night. Becky and I decided to see a movie. It was one of those chick flicks that all the girls went for - something with Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts. It was about a girl who was a well-known sorceress and a guy with no magical ability. It reminded me a little of my relationship with Amy, only unlike that relationship, this one had a happy ending. Becky had curled up in the theater seat next to me. It seemed as if her reputation was well-deserved. Her hands were moving over my crotch and mine were in her bra. It was going to be a great night. Then, as the final credits began to roll, she whispered, "I have a key to a friend's apartment. She's out of town this weekend." Yes, it promised to be a better-than-great night. It wasn't, though. "Don't worry, stud," Becky said with a wan smile as she lay back on the bed. "Everybody has a problem every now and then." I didn't. Or at least, I didn't until then. Here we were. I had taken her to the sexiest movie I could find. Then we had headed back to her friend's apartment. Since she was out of town for the weekend, it was all ours. Becky had been more than willing to go, even though it was a first date. I was busy thanking my lucky stars - all the rumors about Becky were absolutely true! Then... ...nothing. The big zero. The wilted weenie. A couple of days earlier, I had been hard as a rock just thinking about Becky. Now here I was, in bed with her and no trace of a hard on. It wasn't that I hadn't been turned on by her - at least inside my head. Becky could make any guy hard. Well, almost any guy. I almost felt like crying. "I'm... I'm sorry," I mumbled, sitting on the side of the bed. I couldn't even look her in the eye. She rose up to a sitting position next to me. "Hey, there's other things we can do." "Like what?" I asked, looking at her naked body while deciding that I would sell my very soul for a Class One hard on. She grinned, dragging me down until my head was stuffed into her crotch. "Like this, stud," she laughed. "Well, at least Becky was satisfied," I reminded myself as I dropped her off at her sorority house. Not that it helped me, I realized as I slipped my little Mazda into gear. I hated to think of what I would say when I got back to the fraternity house. All the Saturday night dateless crowd would be waiting for guys like me, trying to live vicariously from our experiences. There was only one thing I could do. "A gentleman never tells," I told them with mock indignity. Then I rushed off to my room while the brothers whooped it up figuring I had scored big time. Even Warren wanted to know. He had dropped his date off earlier. Warren was from Omaha but his girlfriend he had dated since high school was in Colorado, too. Then, at Christmas, they broke up. She was going to school in Greeley at Northern Colorado and had found a guy there. So since the beginning of the semester, Warren had flitted from girl to girl, never finding one that satisfied him. Obviously, whoever he had been out with that night hadn't been interesting enough to keep out late, for he was already stripped down to his skivvies relaxing when I walked in. "So how did it go?" he asked, looking up from a Stephen King novel he had been reading. "Okay," I said, trying to sound as noncommittal as possible. I really didn't want to talk about it. I hoped my roommate would take the hint. He didn't. "You just got back from a date with Becky Samuelson and all you can say is that it was okay?" He looked at me with concern. "There's something wrong, isn't there?" I hadn't cried since fifth grade, but I felt like it just then. "It's just the aftermath of the flu," I told him, not really believing it. "The flu doesn't make your hair fall out, pal," he replied. I looked at him with alarm. "It's no big secret," he explained. "Just look around. You're shedding more than a longhaired cat. Except on your head. You could use a haircut there." I opened my shirt to display a chest that still had plenty of hair. "And there's a lot more where that came from," I reminded him. Sure, I still had plenty of hair, but I had lost a lot, too. Who was I trying to fool anyway? "Face it, Mitch, it's a curse." "Bullshit!" Warren looked me in the eye, his expression serious. "No, it's a curse. Sometimes I think you are completely oblivious to magic. Maybe that comes from not being able to practice it. In any case, something's going on. You need to see a doctor - or maybe a wizard." The doctors over at the health center were mediocre at best. The standard joke on campus was that if you were a guy, they'd just tell you that you had mono and if you were a girl, they'd tell you that you were pregnant. In my experience, it wasn't far from the truth. As for a wizard, I didn't know any very well. Then I thought about Professor Morley. He wasn't really a practicing wizard, but he was one of the best authorities on magic in the country. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk to him about it, I thought. It was better than sitting around waiting for all of my hair to fall out. I resolved to talk to him after classes on Monday. "A curse?" Professor Morley asked with a faint smile. He was leaning back in his office chair, his paunch causing his open dress shirt to bulge a little at the button line. He fiddled nervously with his gray beard as he looked at me over the top of his glasses. "What makes you think you have a curse, son?" "As I told you," I said, "my hair is starting to fall out. Look at this." I thrust my arm at him. Only yesterday it had been covered with a fair quantity of dark wiry hair. Now the hair was sparse and turning so light in color that it almost blended into my tanned skin. He looked, but commented, "I'm afraid I have no basis for comparison. But just for the sake of argument, Mitch, let's say that you have lost some body hair. That doesn't mean you've been cursed. It could be something entirely natural. Besides, why curse you to lose body hair and not the hair on the top of your head? Looking at your head, I'd say you have nothing to worry about." He had me there. If anything, my hair on my head felt thicker than usual. Reluctantly, I pressed on. "There are some other things, Professor. I... I nearly passed out a few days ago." He looked a bit more concerned. "Oh?" "Yes," I confirmed with a nod. "And then, there was this girl. I couldn't... I mean..." The smile was there again. "You couldn't get it up?" I felt my face redden. "Yes, that's it. Professor, what's wrong with me?" He shrugged. "Probably nothing magical. Still, we know so little about magic. It's such a new science. We don't understand all the rules just yet. Mitch, you've been doing very well in my class. I hate to see a fine student like you so distressed. If you don't mind spending a little money, I know a local doctor here who has been fairly successful at diagnosing magical maladies. Would you agree to see him?" I agreed in a heartbeat. Professor Morley called Dr. Barnes and arranged for a physical the next day. That seemed almost magical in itself. Usually, doctors were backed up for days in my experience. Apparently Professor Morley had a good working relationship with the physician. It stood to reason, I thought as I walked slowly back to the fraternity house. Magic could be used to induce illness - or even death. No magic expert would proceed though without first making certain that any health problem wasn't natural. As Professor Morley had said, magic was a new science. Using it unwisely when a simple antibiotic might have been the answer was downright dangerous. I actually began to feel a little better. Whatever was wrong with me, physically or magically, I was finally doing something about it. So suddenly it was Tuesday - nearly a week since I had almost passed out. I had had one of the worst weeks of my life, worrying about what was wrong with me. There seemed to be no new developments, but I continued to feel weak and tired. It was a general feeling, from my head to my toes. I literally dragged myself to classes on Tuesday, and I didn't hear a word any of my instructors said, so worried was I about my physical. I had actually begun to worry that the problem might be physical. Was I dying? Was it something even magic couldn't cure? I was a nervous wreck when I presented myself to the doctor. Dr. Barnes was good at making you feel at ease, though. A ruggedly handsome man of perhaps forty. He shook my hand in the small examination room and introduced himself as Rick Barnes rather than Dr. Barnes. Pushing his short blonde hair out of his face, he listened carefully as I described my symptoms. Have you ever noticed how people tend to downplay their ailments once they get in the doctor's office? It's as if by doing so, they can convince the doctor that there's really nothing wrong with them. Then, when the doctor tells them that it doesn't sound very serious, they are relieved, as if there is magic in the words. I'm no different. In spite of the concerns that had kept me awake over the weekend, I began with, "Well, I probably shouldn't even bother you with this, but..." Dr. Barnes was very good. He listened well and asked good questions. I found myself trusting him as I truthfully answered each question about my mysterious condition. Had I eaten anything unusual? Did I have a history of this or that in my family? Then came the question that shocked me. "Are you gay?" "What?" "Mitch, are you gay?" I could feel my face flush. "No, I'm not gay. Why are you even asking that?" I queried indignantly. He shrugged. "It's just a question." But it wasn't just a question. He had asked that for some purpose. Was there something I had said or done that made him wonder? I looked at him for some clue. Then I realized what the clue had been. I had already been staring at him. Oh, it was unconscious on my part, but I had been staring at him nonetheless. I remembered my thoughts about him when he had walked into the room. I had described him in my mind as being "ruggedly handsome." It was an odd description for me to make. Why would I care if he was handsome or not? What was happening to me? "I understand you told Professor Morley that you thought you had been cursed," he said. "Well, yes," I admitted. "But I don't know. I mean, what kind of a curse could do what's happening to me?" He didn't bother to answer my question. "I'd like to take a few tests." I shifted uncomfortably. So there was definitely something wrong with me. "When?" "Now if you have the time." And so the process began. For the next hour, I was poked, prodded, and put through my paces. Blood samples were taken and measurements of every part of my body were made. And yes, he measured that, too. As I waited pretending to read a month old Time in the waiting room, my mind was really on what I would be told when the tests came back. Maybe I was dying. There I was, a mere twenty-one years old with my life before me. Was it cancer? Sure, I knew magic had meant most cancers could be cured if caught in time, but it could be a long -even painful - process. And maybe my earlier hypothesis had been correct. Maybe it was a curse. But what kind of curse? Was it deadly? Could it be stopped? I tried in vain to read my magazine, but found I was unable to concentrate. I had to content myself with staring mindlessly at the pictures. The Doctor had told me the results would only take thirty minutes. There was a lab right in the building with the finest in technical and magical staff. Ah, the wonders of modern science since magic had stepped in to lend a hand. I supposed it was better than waiting on needles and pins for days. Still, the thirty minutes felt like thirty hours. "Mr. Mitchell?" I practically jumped to the ceiling when my name was called. I looked in the nurse's pretty blue eyes for some clue as to the results. Was it my imagination, or was she looking at me with... pity? No, it wasn't pity; it was curiosity. It was as if I had just landed in front of her from another planet. What had they discovered? I was ushered into Dr. Barnes' office. It was comfortable, furnished in warm colors, but I felt a cold chill as I sat opposite his desk while he studied what had to be my test results. He looked up at me. His eyes had the same curious look his nurse had displayed. "Well, Mitch," he began smoothly, "we've come up with some interesting results." I actually felt a little relieved. If I had a fatal condition, I didn't think he would have used the word "interesting." Of course, to a doctor, a fatal condition could always be described as "interesting." "Do you know anything about genetics?" he asked me. "I'm a biology major," I told him proudly. "I have six hours in genetics courses. And the subject comes up in most of the other classes, too." He nodded. "Good. Then you understand the fundamentals. We were making pretty good headway in genetic research even a couple of decades ago. Then, with magical talents in play, genetic research got turned on its head about three years ago. Gene splicing got to be a snap. But I've never seen anything like this." He shoved my lab results over to me. I looked down the sheet, understanding most of it until... I looked at the results again. There had to be a mistake. This wasn't possible. I looked up at Dr. Barnes. He nodded again. "That's right. Your genetic structure has been altered at the most basic level. Every trace of the Y chromosome has been removed from your body. Technically, you are a woman at the genetic level." I looked down at myself. This wasn't possible, I thought to myself. I looked like... me. I was still Austin James Mitchell - Mitch to my friends. I looked as male as I had ever looked. I looked at the doctor with disbelief. "Wait a minute. That can't be done. I mean even magic can't do that... can it?" He sighed. "I wouldn't have thought so - at least not until today. When you told me you thought you had been cursed, I was looking for something a little more modest. You mentioned you had lost some body hair. That's really a fairly common curse. In fact it's a growing business - women don't view it as a curse. And the problem with your girl the other night - that's a fairly common curse, too." "So maybe that's all it is," I said hopefully. "Maybe that genetic thing - maybe that's a mistake." He shook his head grimly. "I'm afraid not, Mitch. I checked the findings myself. It's really a very elegant spell. Whoever did this to you is a real master. I didn't even think this level of magic was possible. To my knowledge, it's never been accomplished before." "But it can be stopped, can't it?" I asked, almost pleading. I was frightened as it was, and the full impact of what was happening to me hadn't even soaked in yet. "It can be reversed by a good wizard, right?" "I doubt it," he told me. "You see Mitch, in theory, this shouldn't be that hard to do to any male. You already have one X chromosome. To make you genetically female, all you have to do is change the Y chromosome into a duplicate of the X. We can't postulate the Y again. It's completely gone. And even if we could, there's another problem. The problem is to keep the body in control while the genetic changes force physical changes." I frowned. "I'm not following you." I should have understood him, but I think I was so shocked that I couldn't comprehend what he was telling me. Either that or I didn't want to understand. Dr. Barnes leaned back in his chair. "Well Mitch, you see your sex was determined by your chromosomes before you were born, so that's the way your body developed. Now your fully-developed male body is being told that your sexual development was all wrong. Wizards have tried to change a person's sex before, but it hasn't worked. The body goes out of control, and the results can be very painful or even fatal." He saw the sudden frightened look in my eyes and added, "No, Mitch. That isn't what's happening to you. Whoever did this to you really knew what he was doing. He managed to not only change your genetic sex but also created some rudimentary female organs inside you as well. You have non-functioning ovaries right now, but I suspect they'll begin to function over time. Then your male organs will begin to atrophy while your female ones thrive." "How... how long have I got?" "Mitch," he said softly, "you're not dying. Don't think of it like that. This is a process. Your cells will steadily replace themselves over time. The curse may speed that up. I would estimate that you will be fully female in a few weeks. That's just an estimate. I may be able to pin that down a little more by tomorrow. It could be more time and it could be less. In fact, it might be better if we speeded the process up." I felt sick. "Speed it up? Why would I want to do that?" "Well," he explained carefully, "if we can't restore your male body, you might think about how you'll handle the transition. You'll start to look like an effeminate man, and I doubt if that will be something you want to happen. So the quicker we can make you look like a normal female, the quicker you'll be able to fit back into society." In other words, I thought, I was going to look like a freak for a while. I shuddered a little thinking about what would happen. Over the next few weeks, I'd start to look more and more like a girl until the process was completed. That meant I'd start to look like some kind of fairy for a few weeks, swiveling gracefully across campus but with otherwise male features - or something like that. The problem was that I didn't want to give up the masculinity I had left. I wanted to appear male as long as possible since I had no desire whatsoever to be female. After all, there were advances in magic every day. If someone had managed to figure out a way to do this to me, maybe someone else could figure out how to undo it. It was important that I not give in to this curse. "I could prescribe estrogen for you," he offered. "It might accelerate the process." "I'll think about it," I replied dully, knowing that there was no way I would agree to accelerate the process. I was a man, and I'd be one for as long as I could no matter what my chromosomes looked like. "Fine," Dr, Barnes agreed. I could see in his eyes that he knew I had already made my decision. "Mitch, what are you going to do now?" What was I going to do? Well, if it wasn't giving in to the new hormones that my body must have already started producing, I'd go back to my room and have a good long cry bemoaning the loss of my manhood. Oh, I could check with other doctors and wizards, just to convince myself that Dr. Barnes hadn't screwed up with his diagnosis. Of course, I knew he hadn't. There were already too many telltale signs of the transformation that was yet to come. "I'm not sure," I answered, realizing it was an honest answer. "I'd like to have a meeting with you and Professor Morley," he suggested. "He and I have worked together before. We need to get you the help you'll need, but do it discretely. Otherwise I'm afraid you'll be front page news." I hadn't even considered that. He was right. This would be big news. It was something science and magic had been talking about for years. I had read enough about it to know that magic had been used to avoid rejection when female organs were transplanted into male transsexuals, but this... Nothing like it had ever happened before. No one had ever figured out the process to change genetic structure this way. The last thing in the world I wanted right then was to be newsworthy. It was bad enough to be slowly changing into a woman, but to have everyone in the world know about it would be too much. "Mitch, do you have any idea who did this to you?" "I have an idea," I said slowly. "I'd rather not discuss that until tomorrow. I'd like to be sure first." He nodded. "Fine Mitch, but be careful. Whoever did this to you is the most powerful wizard I've ever seen - possibly the most powerful wizard the world has ever seen." "What makes you say that?" I asked uneasily. Dr. Barnes replied, "It isn't just a matter of ingenuity, Mitch. There may have even been other wizards who have thought of this technique. It's also a matter of extremely high magical power. Whoever has done this probably has a WK score that's off the charts." Unless that person is smart enough to hide that ability from the test, I thought. "This person, whoever he is, has to have the power and the anatomical knowledge to keep your body in balance during this transformation," he went on. "He's given you the genetic code you need to be female, but matching up physical aspects of your body with that code would take years if allowed to occur naturally. He's speeding that process up." Or she is, I thought to myself. Of course it was Amy, I told myself as I drove back up to the campus and my fraternity house. Who else could it be? She had the physiological knowledge, the magical ability and, of course, the motive. I knew she was mad at me, but I never expected her to curse me. What exactly did she have in store for me anyhow? She wouldn't be content just changing me into a woman. That would just be the start of things. Amy, I had begun to discover just before breaking up with her, wouldn't just turn a turtle on its back to watch it thrash. She'd tease it to make it even more frantic. My mind ranged back to that day a few months ago when I broke up with her. She hadn't appeared particularly angry. But what is the old saying - something about revenge being a dish best served cold? She must have hated me, I realized. I didn't think it was because she loved me. I was beginning to think she wasn't capable of loving anyone. I just think it was because it was my idea to break it off. So what had Amy done since that day? She must have spent a lot of time planning her revenge. She probably read up on everything she would need to know from a scientific perspective and then applied her magic to get it in motion. Given what Dr. Barnes had told me, I was sure some wizard somewhere had tried her technique and probably failed. But Amy had no intention of failing. Apparently Amy was even more adept at magic than I had suspected. Her powers must have put her in the top rank of all wizards. Great. And I had to cross her. Stupid me. I rushed up the stairs at the fraternity house without speaking to anyone. I was in a hurry to try to reach Amy and plead with her to end this curse before it got completely out of hand. Dr. Barnes had offered little hope for relief, but I was sure in my own mind that Amy could reverse it. If anyone could re-postulate my Y chromosome, it would be Amy. The other reason I rushed up the stairs was embarrassment. True, I still appeared to be a normal male, but the very knowledge that I had already genetically become a female was enough to cause me to hide my head in shame from my fraternity brothers. How long would it be before I would begin to appear effeminate to them? Would I wake up some morning with budding breasts and a mincing walk - the sudden subject of ridicule to all the guys who had once been my friends? The thought was extremely disturbing. I dialed Amy's number over at her dorm. Her roommate, Peggy Tilden answered. "Peggy, I've got to speak to Amy," I began without preamble. "Mitchell, you shit!" she yelled at me, causing me to momentarily move the phone away from my ear. "Peggy!" I cried. "What did I ever do to you?" And here I thought that Peggy and I had gotten along well together. I suppose I should have expected it. Amy had probably enlisted Peggy's sympathy after the breakup. "You cost me a roommate," she growled. "Amy dropped out of school right after you dumped her. She said she was so upset that she couldn't even finish out the term." Now that didn't sound at all like Amy. The night we broke up, she seemed almost calm. But she had dropped out of school? Now that really didn't sound like Amy. She had been determined to get her degree and go on to med school. The combination of a degree in magic and an MD would put her into the big money. Surely she wouldn't drop out just because she was distraught about a broken romance. I mumbled a quick apology to Peggy, wondering what terrible things Amy had told her about me. If Amy had dropped out of school, she had probably gone home to her parent's home in Colorado Springs. That was only an hour and a half from Boulder, so I could drive down there and beg her to reverse this curse - assuming it could be reversed. I fumbled through the papers in my desk until I found my address book. I had written her home phone and address there so I could call her when I was home for Christmas. Relieved when I found it, I looked up the number and called Amy's parents. "Hello?" It was Amy's mother. I had met her a couple of times on campus while Amy and I had been going together. "Uh... Mrs. Witherspoon, I'm a friend of Amy's from Boulder." I didn't give my name in case Amy had told her mother not to take calls from me. "Is Amy there?" "I'm sorry, she isn't. She's in Europe with some friends. She'll be out of touch until the end of summer." I didn't know if she was telling the truth or not. She sounded almost like she was reading a script. I suppose I could have asked her if she could relay a message to Amy, but what could I say? Gee, Mrs. Witherspoon, could you have Amy call me? She seems to be changing me into a girl and I really don't want tits and a big ass. Right. No, I thanked her and hung up. I was more convinced than ever that this was Amy's doing. And I was sure she wasn't in Europe, no matter what her mother thought. She had done this to me and gone underground until I was transformed into a girl. Then she'd reappear just to watch the fun as I tried to cope with life as a female. The bitch. I'd like to... to... what? Scratch her eyes out? Pull her hair? No, if I saw Amy, I'd have to get down on my soon-to-be-shapely knees and beg in a sweet high voice that she return me to normal. There seemed to be nothing I could do now except wait for my meeting with Dr. Barnes and Professor Morley. I'd tell them about Amy and see if they could help me find her. I decided to get ready for bed before Warren got back. I didn't want to have to answer any questions. I stripped out of my clothes as quickly as possible. I usually went to bed in a T-shirt and boxers, but decided for once to use the pair of dark blue pajamas my mother had gotten me for Christmas. They would be less revealing, and no one would be able to see the thinning hair on my arms and legs. I got on the pajamas and dived into bed moments before Warren opened the door. Good old Warren, I thought to myself, pretending to sleep while I watched him moving around in the dark. We had been good friends since we met as fraternity pledges back in our freshman year. Warren was from Omaha and I was from Kansas City, so we shared a Midwestern background. And Warren had started as an anthropology major while I was majoring in biology, so we took many of the same courses together. Then he transferred to business when it became obvious he'd never make it in the medical field. Also, neither of us had much in the way of magical talents - Warren's being rudimentary and mine nonexistent. And, of course, being pledge brothers had made us close. What would Warren think if he knew the guy sleeping in the bunk over him wasn't really a guy at all? Sooner or later, he'd find out. The entire fraternity would find out. A few years earlier in a world where magic was not widely recognized, I could have hidden the change longer. After all, who would have believed that a normal guy could change into a girl? Now though, subtle changes that in an earlier era would have been dismissed as mundane would be quickly recognized as a magical transformation. So how long did I have before my fraternity brothers noticed? A few days? A week at the most? I would finish all of my finals inside of two weeks, but the changes might be too noticeable for me to stay in the fraternity house. I'd have to find somewhere else to go, I thought. There was even a tear in my eye at the thought of moving out on Warren. Our friendship was nearly over and he didn't even know it. I tried not to think about it - or anything else for that matter -and slowly, I drifted off to sleep. I met with Dr. Barnes in Professor Morley's office the next day after classes. I started the session by telling them my suspicions about Amy. When I had finished, I asked, "Do you think I'm right? I mean, this seems like a lot of trouble for her to do this to me. She could have taken a much simpler revenge." "Yes," Professor Morley agreed with a twinkle in his eyes, "but it wouldn't have been as satisfying." "Satisfying?" "Are you familiar with the Roman writer, Juvenal?" he asked me. I shook my head. Professor Morley rose from his chair and pulled down an ancient- looking text as he explained, "Juvenal was a First Century Roman author. In his Satires, he spoke of something, which you might find interesting. I think I know where... Ah! Here it is. Read this passage out loud." He handed me the book, which I took gently in my hands so as not to damage the frail volume. I began: "For revenge is always the delight of a mean spirit, of a weak and petty mind! You may immediately draw proof of this - that no one rejoices more in revenge than a woman." I looked up from the book at the amused looks on the faces of my two companions. To tell the truth, I was a little insulted. I was about to be turned into a woman, and I hardly wanted to be thought of as the possessor of a "weak and petty mind." "I hardly think Amy's mind is weak," I told them. "Oh, she's bright enough," Professor Morley allowed, "but weak in the sense of moral character I'm afraid. So Rick, how will this all take place?" Then Dr. Barnes rattled off the technical description of what was happening to me as Professor Morley calmly lit his pipe with a snap of his fingers. Could everyone perform some magic except me? "So how long will this transformation take?" Professor Morley asked at last. I was grateful that he had asked the very question I had been too frightened to say. "About three weeks, give or take a few days. Maybe four weeks at the most," Dr. Barnes said. I felt as if he had pronounced a death sentence on me. I suppose in a way he had. The person I had always been would cease to exist in a few short weeks. What was that if not a form of death? It's hard for me to express how I felt during that meeting. It was almost as if we were talking about someone else - someone not in the room. Dr. Barnes and Professor Morley were both so clinical. I felt as if I might as well have been a lab rat. Oh, they would occasionally express emotion, but not of a sympathetic nature. If anything, they were almost excited about the whole transformation. I suppose I couldn't blame them in a way. What they were witnessing in me was something they had previously believed to be beyond the capabilities of either science or magic. Now they would have the opportunity to observe the nearly impossible - close up no less. "Look, can't we find Amy and get her to stop this? I mean, why not call in the Police?" I finally blurted in exasperation. Dr. Barnes and Professor Morley looked at each other - unsure at first, and then a little embarrassed. I had just reminded them that the lab rat had a say in this as well. "Mitch, that may not be easy," Dr. Barnes began. "I didn't think it would be easy," I shot back as I leaned back in the deep leather chair of the conference room, my arms folded. Would I still be able to fold my arms like that when I grew... breasts? Professor Morley shifted uncomfortably. "Rick, we owe him more of an answer than that." He turned to me with a fatherly gaze. "Mitch, the problem is that we don't think we should tell the authorities." I gasped. "You two want this to happen to me, don't you? That's why you don't want to go to the authorities." Dr. Barnes shook his head. "Henry is right, Mitch. Going to the authorities is a guarantee that this will be allowed to continue." I looked at them, confused. "It's like this, Mitch," Professor Morley began. "Magic is a new phenomenon as far as the government is concerned. The authorities know no one has ever succeeded in changing anyone into another person or an animal. It's just too complex a task. But if we tell them what's happening to you, they'll want to find a way to use the power." "Just think of it, Mitch," Dr. Barnes added. "Physical transformation could be used for espionage, punishment, rewards - you name it. A spy could be sent in looking like a trusted advisor. A rapist could be permanently changed into a woman. This Amy holds the key to incredible power. If the authorities are brought in, they'll try to find her all right, but not to take the curse off you. No, they'll let it happen just to be sure it works. Then they'll try to figure out how to duplicate it. You'll never have a chance to get Amy to change you back. She'll be bottled up in some government lab." "So there's no hope for me," I sighed, feeling the start of tears in my eyes. Professor Morley shook his head. "I wouldn't say that. I've talked to the Chancellor. He agrees with me that the resources of the University should be used to study this curse and reverse it if we can. He's also agreed with me that we need to keep this quiet for now." "So are you going to send the Campus Police after Amy?" I asked derisively. "Hardly," Professor Morley replied. "The University is not without its resources. A private investigative firm has been retained and will be given the assignment of finding your former girlfriend." He leaned forward and looked into my eyes. "Mitch, I know this is very difficult for you, but we are on your side. What you must understand is that most magic is the level of parlor tricks. In the few years since the virus gave us the ability to tap into magical powers, very few individuals have shown advanced talents." "That's right, Mitch," Dr. Barnes chimed in. "Think of how much time passed between the discovery of the nature of electricity and the electric light. The time span between discovery and practical use is a long one." "But we have weather control," I pointed out. Professor Morley explained, "We have a few bureaucrats who can alter wind direction and keep rainstorms from forming or break up a few clouds to give us more solar warming. It's hardly above the level of a stage magician's tricks and done mostly for show. That way, the politicians can brag that they're in control of the situation." He snorted. "Control! Most of them can't even do decent card tricks." "All right," I agreed reluctantly. "I guess my fate is in your hands whether I like it or not. So can anything be done to stop this or slow it down?" Both men shook their heads. It was Dr. Barnes who answered. "Mitch, when I first examined you yesterday, I would have said this process might take as long as three months. I looked at the blood samples we took from you again this morning. Based on the cellular activity I observed, I reduced that to three weeks. If this Amy is responsible, she's been able to disrupt your cells in ways I can't understand. My guess is that her ability to use magic transcends an understanding of the physical and goes into a realm we've only theorized." "You're telling me I ticked off the world's most powerful wizard," I pointed out. Professor Morley nodded. "In a word, yes." The look on his face was so serious that I think for the first time I really realized the predicament I was in had only one possible solution: I was going to become a woman whether I wanted to or not - and I certainly didn't want to be a woman. There would be no slowing down the process. There would be no miracle cure. Amy would be too smart to be found if she didn't want to be found, and no one else could undo her magic. "So where do we go from here?" I asked resignedly. My fate was in their hands. I had to trust both of these men. I didn't want to end up a government lab rat and I didn't want my story plastered all over the newspapers. The only alternative was to do whatever they wanted me to do. "Where do you live now?" Dr. Barnes asked. "A fraternity house," I replied. He shook his head. "That won't do. We'll have to get you an apartment or something." "An apartment would be too public," Dr. Morley objected. "He can stay at my house. There's just my daughter and I. Heather can probably be a big help to Mitch during the transition." "I don't want to impose..." I began quickly. Actually, I wasn't too keen on the idea. I didn't want that daughter of his to know about what was happening to me. It was bad enough that these two men knew about it. The more people who knew, the more embarrassing the whole thing was. Professor Morley understood my reluctance. "Look, Mitch, all Dr. Barnes and I can do for you is study this phenomenon. It may not do you a bit of good. Heather can help you cope with being a woman. She can pass on to you all the details of being a woman that her mother passed on to her before she died. She's just your age and the two of you will get along well, I'm sure." "But..." "It's probably the best solution," Dr. Barnes agreed. "Make up some excuse to move out of the fraternity and move in with Walt here." Walt? Oh, he meant Professor Morley. Until then, I hadn't even known his first name. Reluctantly I nodded in agreement, but I wasn't looking forward to meeting his daughter. What could she really do for me? Swap clothes? Compare lipsticks? Discuss boys? Please... The walk back to the fraternity house was a difficult one for me. I couldn't help but notice all the girls walking along the campus paths. They seemed so comfortable being who they were, with their long hair and their full breasts and their swaying hips. I was about to join them whether I wanted to or not - and I was sure I didn't want to. I didn't know if I could do it. How could I shave my legs? How could I wear makeup? How could I laugh and giggle as they did as they talked to guys? How could I pee sitting down? I would have to learn, I realized, unless I wanted to go be a monk. No, that was wrong. I couldn't even do that. I'd have to be a nun. There she goes - good old Sister Mitchell. Hell, I wasn't even Catholic. I was pretty circumspect at dinner that evening. Fortunately with all the other conversation at the dinner table, no one seemed to notice. And with finals coming up, few of my fraternity brothers wanted to sit around the dinner table for another cup of coffee while they lingered over conversation. I was relieved at that. As far as they were concerned, I was one of them. I was good old Mitch - a decent student and a fair athlete. I was one of the guys who always had a cute date for a party, always did my part in every fraternity event, and had the reputation of being a pretty decent all-around sort of guy. If there was anything to set me apart from the brothers, it was my lack of magical ability, but since virtually all of the magical talents in the fraternity were minimal at best, even that didn't make me stand out. I wondered what they would think if they knew that genetically, I was already a girl. They wouldn't believe it even if I told them. They would think it was some sort of prank. I couldn't blame them. I didn't look like a girl and I didn't act like one. But I knew. Deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time. Sure, I had lost some body hair, but I didn't think anyone would notice. According to Dr. Barnes, I was losing height as well, but not more than an inch or so thus far. Over the next few days, I would start to look more delicate - more feminine. Then the shape of my body would change. Then my fraternity brothers would believe me, but I'd be long gone before then. I felt very sad and alone as I headed back to my room. I still had a few days to live in the fraternity house, but just a few. I had to be gone before the obvious signs of my approaching girlhood were visible. I'd just tell them I was moving in with a friend to study for tests for a few days. I'd make sure they thought that friend was female. That way I'd be assured of some privacy. Some of the brothers were in my classes though, so I'd have to get in and out of the exams as quickly as possible, before they could question me or see the cha