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Big Time Saskatchewan By Jacquie Windsor [email protected] "Is not every meanest day the confluence of two eternities?" --Thomas Carlyle: "French Revolution" "Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action." --Ian Fleming: "Goldfinger" The dirty yellow bus dropped Rudy Balfour in front of the Middleford Polyacademic campus on a dusty July morning. The sun was slowly setting and the night breezes grew as the atmosphere started to cool down. He found the administration building marked prominently on a tree-lined rise over the flat Saskatchewan plains. "Summer school. Could've been slumber school," mused the dark-haired twenty-one year old from Portage Lake, a tiny hamlet parked between Uranium Lake and nowhere. He wandered toward the main door of the central building on the modest campus. A slight woman sat behind a desk inside the office. "Here for the summer semester?" she offered kindly. "Yeah. I need a few point averages to qualify for university in the fall," Rudy replied. He drew an envelope from his jacket pocket. "My application, everything, it's right there." "And your luggage, Mr..." "Balfour. Rudy Balfour. My luggage? My luggage?" Rudy whirled about, peering out towards the parking lot where the bus had left him. "Uh, Miss, can I, uh, use your phone? I gotta call the bus company. I think they took off with my shit, um, my stuff." "I'll make the call for you, honey," answered the receptionist. "What's the name of the company?" "Rough Rider Transport, I think," said Rudy. "And I think they just run out of Portage Lake once a week. Well, no biggie, as long as there's a department store. I think I got enough in my bank account to afford some shit, um, stuff, I mean." "Well, Middleford isn't quite Saskatoon, but we've got a five and dime kind of place that sells clothes. Mostly we order off the net, though, because it seems to be quicker and more selection." "Great, thanks, um..." "Keli...that's k, e, l, i," she spelled crisply. "You can go back to the Macromedia room to get your campus ID. You'll need it, naturally, for writing exams and everything. It's three doors down, just past the bathrooms." "Thanks, Keli. Let me know if the bus company can get a hold of my shit. I, oh well, forget it..." Rudy's voice trailed off as he sauntered down the tiled hallway to the Macromedia room. Inside, a thin old man played with a lens on a camera, aiming it towards a blue sheet draped over one wall. Hot white bulbs, raised on stands and arranged in a careful semi-circle, augmented the overhead lighting. "ID photo?" he croaked. Rudy nodded, thinking better of offering a pointless wisecrack. "Just stand in front of the sheet. Smile if you like to smile. It's just an ID photo. Won't take a minute." Rudy had his picture taken, flipping his shoulder-length hair behind his head after the first attempt. "Your face is hidden by that mop," the photographer had scolded him. "You can collect your card at reception in ten minutes." Rudy returned to Keli's desk and spoke with her about the accommodations. "Planck's Constant Barracks... Room D-102." "Is the cafeteria food any good?" Rudy asked. "It's slop, but it's apparently quite nutritional. I never eat here, myself. So it's kind of a roll-the-dice kind of thing." The photographer emerged from the processing room and handed an envelope to Keli. "Oh, your ID's here. Classes start tomorrow morning, so you might want to get acquainted with the place. We've been selected as one of the top ten polyacademic, um, academies in the province." "How many are there?" Rudy mused aloud, taking the envelope in one hand. "Well, there's at least eleven, because we weren't on it last year," beamed the receptionist. "All the buildings are open except the Students' Council Quad, since it's summer season and we couldn't afford the staff, I guess." Keli handed the new student a small folder with the campus logo on the front. "That's your class schedule. You'll need it." "Thanks." Rudy left the administration building, peeling open the envelope to retrieve his ID card. "That's odd. It says 'Julie Serafin'. That's not my name. My picture though. Oh fuck, I'll go get it re-done tomorrow." A long path wound through a tangle of lilac bushes to the Barracks. Rudy nodded pleasantly at other students along the way, and found the stark accommodations planted in the middle of a trio of mostly-empty parking lots near the edge of the campus. It was a three-story building in the unimaginative style of mid-century institutional architecture. The front door gave way to a small atrium, beyond which straight hallways marched in parallel away from the staircases. Rudy wandered through the corridor of the main floor, noticing most of the doors slightly ajar and the interiors of the room in various states of repair. "Renovations," he thought. He looked at the numbers on the doors, all of which began with the letter 'C'. "Mine's gotta be either upstairs or downstairs, I guess." Rudy decided to go downstairs. The doors were indeed marked with the letter 'D'. He came to 'D-102', and tried the knob. The door opened and Rudy found a small room with a single barred window near the top of one wall and, more puzzling, a single bed even though the place had a lived-in look. The walls were covered with wrestling posters. He left the room and went to an adjacent room, which was completely empty. One after another, Rudy found the place deserted. Finally, he tried the bathroom, which was adequately serviced with running water in the sink and shower taps. "Geez, you'd think the place was abandoned," he reflected. He left one of the shower taps on, gauging the temperature before searching for a towel. It would be good to get clean after the long bus ride. Rudy stripped and showered quickly, wringing the water out of his long hair, then wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing his only clothes before returning to D-102. He looked for a place to put his clothes as his hair dried, and slung them over the only chair in the small room. He sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up a book from the floor. 'Advanced Bio-Plastic Technology'. "How boring," Rudy thought. He heard a noise out in the hallway, and tightened the towel at his waist. At once, the doorknob turned and a huge young man appeared at the entrance. He wore a tank top and shorts, with words "Middleford Rugby Association" writ large across his chest. He looked to be half a head taller and thirty kilograms heavier than Rudy. "They call me 'Albatross'," shrugged the new arrival. "You got D-102? Hmmmph, well, you gotta follow my rules to live with the Albatross." "Wait a second," complained Rudy. "There's two dozen rooms here, all empty. We don't gotta room together. I mean, there's only one bed here." The Albatross eyed Rudy with fat black eyes. "Listen, you ain't some kinda queer, are you?" "No," Rudy laughed nervously. "So what's the big deal? Guys sleep in beds together all the time. It don't mean fuck all." "Well, you're right, I guess," answered Rudy. The Albatross began to remove his clothes. "Hey! What are you doing?" Rudy demanded. "I'm going to bed. What's it to ya?" "Well, I'm kind of tired too. I came here today all the way from Portage Lake. I really need some rest." The Albatross ignored Rudy's protests and stripped naked. His cock hung half-limp, a prominence of nearly a foot long, and it brushed over Rudy's forehead as the Albatross climbed over him and onto the bed. The rugby player leaned past Rudy and grabbed a book from the night table. "Hey, see this?" Rudy looked at the book, which had a padded leather cover and the bright curvilinear words 'Photo Album' on the front. "Yeah, looks like a picture album. Photos, right?" "Damn straight. This is my bitch." He opened the album to show Rudy an endless assortment of photographs of the Albatross' girlfriend. "Her name's Sandra... she's back in Dauphin, and I'm here, doin' fucking summer school to keep my wrestling scholarship at U of M." Rudy stared at the pictures, as though hypnotised. The girl was slender and tall, for a woman, and had dark hair roughly the same length as Rudy's. "Just thinkin' of that bitch makes me so fuckin' horny," growled the Albatross. "Look!" Rudy didn't have to look. He felt the wrestling major's hard-on poking him in the kidney. "Oh shit," cried Rudy. "You're poking me with your dick!" "Listen. Tell you what. Why not just hold it. Kinda stroke it. It'll be good for me." The Albatross narrowed his eyes and spoke with an authority that Rudy couldn't deny. "I can't!" he protested. "Really, come on!" The Albatross tilted his head and grinned through his teeth. "Rudy, it don't make you gay or nothin'. I really wanna get along with you. I mean, without Sandra around, I've been pretty hard to live with." Rudy felt an honesty and a compulsion in the Albatross' confession. "This won't mean anything," he promised himself. The Albatross closed his eyes, obviously thinking about the absent woman from Manitoba who had pleased his sexual urges, as Rudy stroked his cock, amazed at its size and the way it pulsed under his gentle grip. Amid gasps, the Albatross hissed out the one thing Rudy was afraid to hear: "And you know, my bitch, she always swallows..." Rudy stared up dolefully, feeling the throbbing of his roommate's cock in his mouth, to see Albatross holding the picture of his sweetheart in one hand. His other hand held Rudy's head in place over his crotch until he was ready to ejaculate. The Albatross came in six sharp thrusts, nearly choking Rudy in the process, yet he fell mercifully asleep afterwards. Early the next morning, the first day of classes for him, the newcomer from Portage Lake crept out of bed and into the shower. He towelled off after a quick, cool, refreshing splash, wrapping the cloth around his waist and gathering his shirt and jeans to return to his room. The Albatross was awake by then, and Rudy complained that, since his luggage was misplaced by the bus company, he had nothing to wear. "Hey, shit, none of my shit would fit you. You're way too scrawny. But here, try this stuff. Might work." Rudy looked over the athlete's shoulder at a wicker suitcase he'd picked up and slung over the unmade bed. "That's all chicks' stuff." "Well, you'd rather wear a smelly T-shirt and dirty jeans? Look, there's some stuff there that is kinda masculine. In between, anyhow." "Please don't tell me this is Sandra's clothing, too," Rudy grimaced. There were shimmering, fluffy, puffy, crinkly, shiny, slippery and smooth fabrics overflowing the suitcase once it was open, in a bouquet of silver, burgundy, magenta, aqua, chartreuse and white. "Naw," shrugged the Albatross, whipping a towel over his shoulder and getting ready to leave. "That was in the room when I got here. I guess the last roomie must've been a crossdresser or something." Rudy found the plainest things he could find in the suitcase and tried them on. As the rugby player had suggested, the sizes were just about right. He finally settled on wearing a black fringed half shirt emblazoned with a shocking pink unicorn on the chest, and a pair of immodest orange hot pants that tended to ride up over his narrow hips. "Oh yep, real masculine," he complained to the empty room. He peeled open an envelope with his schedule on it, given to him by the receptionist at the administration building. It had Julie's name in the heading. "Great." Rudy's first class was Modern Drama. He entered the room tentatively, looking around for an empty seat. It was a small room, with a large drape covering the stage behind the teacher's lectern. There were only about eight or ten students in the classroom, and at least that many empty chairs. Rudy sat near the front. "I'm Professor Cadmus, but you can call me 'Sherry'," announced a tall blonde woman behind the lectern. "We'll do roll call first, and then our reading for a post-neo- Classic work just to get started. Okay. Mike?" "Here." "Cory?" "Here." The lecturer listed off eight names, all guys, followed by the inevitable 'here' from one of the students. "Julie?" Silence. "Julie? Julie, um, Serafin? I think that's how it's pronounced." Rudy blushed. Sherry was looking right at him. "Are you Julie Serafin?" "Er, yeah, I guess," Rudy replied. "You guess?" The class erupted in laughter, causing Rudy to blush deeply. He nodded, letting his long hair fall into his face to conceal the deep reddening of his cheeks. "Okay. Now that we're finished roll call, and most of us know who we are, let's get started. The first work we're doing is 'Big Sea Monster Of The Levant'. It's by John Harbinger Hopkins, the younger brother of Gerard Manley. We'll just do a reading of a scene or two, to get acquainted with High Romantic Anglo-Victorian age drama. I'll need three volunteers. Two guys and a girl. Any volunteers?" Slowly, one fellow raised his hand. "Well Julie, we can use you. You're the only female here, and how about, um, you?" Sherry Cadmus pointed at another student. "Yes you. I have three scripts here and you can start in those chairs on the stage. This scene is called 'Nemesis Before Sidon', and it recounts the hero and the villain meeting on the shores of the Mediterranean, awaiting the appearance of the great goddess of retribution. Oh, it's all very serious, class. This is High Romantic Anglo-Victorian drama at its finest." A flourish of chuckles subsided as Sherry drew back a curtain and showed the two young men to their seats. She provided all three of the students with a small pile of stapled paper, the script to 'Big Sea Monster Of The Levant'. "This is going to be fun. Is everyone excited?" Rudy and the other two students shrugged along with the class. "Julie, come on with me to the back room, and we can get you ready for the sea goddess part. Come on, let's get with it." Rudy followed the instructor. The room behind the stage had a long mirror over a counter the entire length of the wall, and half a dozen leather-bound chairs riveted into the floor. The other wall was filled with closet space. There was nothing to compare it to in Portage Lake. "This is pretty decent," he said to the instructor. "Big time decent." "Oh, this is nothing. You ought to see the dressing rooms in Saskatoon and Winnipeg. They're awesome!" "This script," said Rudy, thumbing through the pages, "doesn't seem to have any speaking parts for my character. Is that a mistake or something?" "Nemesis appears as a vision, Julie, rising from the waves like a writhing snake. Basically it's a dancing part." "I don't have any experience at dancing," Rudy frowned. "Well, you certainly have the form for it, and it's not as hard as you think. Your part is supposed to be rather erotic, and I can show you how to do it, simply." Sherry stood in front of him and held her hands together behind her head. "What you do is basically keep your head still and let your legs do the work. Tippytoe on one leg, then bend the knee, hip down and... rise... and then, as you do, you repeat the same thing on the other leg. Tippy, bend, swivel, tippy, bend, swivel. See? It's simple." Rudy gaped as Professor Cadmus swivelled her hips provocatively. "You're good." "And every second or third time, you see, you can sort of arch your back and it gives your body a little kind of rotation to it. See that?" "Oh yeah. I see." "Now you, your boobs are a little small, but we can do something for that," Sherry said, stopping her dance in mid-stride. "Here, in the wardrobe, we've got a set of prosthetics. Fits like a glove. Some of our girls use them during regular semesters and, I've got to tell you, Julie, they sometimes wear them out after class too. But that's just our secret, right?" "Professor Cadmus, I mean Sherry, I keep saying, like listen to my voice, I am not actually 'Julie'. There was just a mistake at the sign-up place. My ID is all wrong. I'm Rudy." "Rudy? As in Rudolph?" the instructor challenged. "Get out of here. You're pulling my leg, right?" Rudy peeled off his top. "No. I'm not. See? No boobs. Nothing. Now you get it?" "Oh, I see," Sherry grinned. "You're a kind of a cross- dresser or something?" "No, no," Rudy stammered. He saw the look on the teacher's face. "Oh, you know, never mind. I think it's probably going to be harder for me to explain it than to just, you know..." "Go with the flow?" "Right." Sherry found a nice pair of flesh-toned breasts, filled with a gelatinous substance, contained in a bra. "What's your ribcage size, Julie?" "Oh, I haven't measured, um, recently," Rudy answered. "These will fit you if you're anywhere from a 34 to a 38. Turn around and I'll put them on you." Rudy complied, and was struck with the weight of the falsies as Professor Cadmus strapped them to his chest. "Don't stoop now," Sherry warned. "Now put your top on and try it." Rudy struggled back into the top, which stretched tremendously over the fake breasts. He put his hands behind his head and repeated the simple routine as his teacher showed him. "Wow, Julie. You're going to be one hell of a Goddess of Retribution. You are hot, girl!" Rudy paused momentarily, distracted from his dance by the teacher's accolades. "You know what makes it easier?" Sherry asked. "Heels. Then you don't have to tippytoe with so much effort. You just have to bend your legs alternately. One then the other. You sort of dance on auto-pilot." "Hmm, that sounds easier. True." "Just a minute. What size are your shoes?" "Eight. But that's a guy's size, you know?" "Well, I'm sure I can find you something in a girl's size," Sherry winked. "How do these look?" Rudy was stunned. There was a fine, slick, black pair of knee boots with spiky heels. Sherry helped them onto his feet once he slipped out of his shoes. They were a snug fit, maybe too snug, but he figured the dance wouldn't last long enough to cause him more than temporary discomfort. He stood up. "I think you're right about making the dance easier," he said. He merely had to bend each knee in succession, lifting his hips and swaying, and the effect was mirrored in the long glass on the wall. Sherry clapped her hands together in a quick staccato. "Julie, you're going to master this drama class in no time at all." She rose and went to the doorway leading back to the small classroom stage. "When I give the cue, you shift out to centre stage and do the dance, okay?" The cue was a lighting change, accompanied by the throb of heavy dance music from the speaker system. Rudy stepped out into the blue and red lights and started the 'Dance Of The Goddess Of Retribution'. Bend. Swivel. Occasionally a little step forward or to the side. He really started to get into the dance, as the class cheered without pausing when the music trailed off into the distance. Another loud sound interrupted the continuation of the dance. "Fire alarm," Sherry signalled. "Everyone out the side door immediately." The students collected their books and headed towards the exit. One of them handed Rudy a purse. "This is yours. You wouldn't want to forget it." Rudy nodded, although he didn't remember bringing anything like that to the drama class. Once outside, the students collected in casual groups. There were a few people in the parking lot, next to the campus theatre, from neighbouring buildings. Rudy saw a girl nearby, her hair in long blonde ringlets and impossibly red lipstick shimmering like a prairie fire sun. A pair of translucent blue sunglasses perched on her nose, her legs emerged from the too-short hemline of a tight black skirt, and her top was immodestly sheer white, ruffled, and clearly showed the outline of her black underwired bra. As with Rudy, the outfit revealed her midriff, and he noticed the gleam of a piercing in her belly button. "Shit, I might as well go over and stand with her. I mean, the dudes in my class are already drooling after that performance." Rudy kept his weight forward in the high-heeled boots and tottered carefully over to the girl, who had similarly set herself apart from the guys in her class. An administrative official, wearing a fluorescent orange vest over his dress shirt, conferred with Sherry and the instructor from the other class, so Rudy figured there would be some delay in returning to the building. "Hi. I'm, uh, Julie," he ventured, with a masculine tone in his voice she would notice in an instant. "Or that's what they keep saying." "Omigod," said the blonde-haired girl. "I'm Delia. Sort of." There was an unmistakable baritone to her voice. Rudy could tell that, if both of them were out of their high heels, that he'd still be about three inches taller. "You mean you're not, um, biologically..." "Born female? No. But there had to be a mix-up at the registrar. I got this ID made." Delia pulled a card out of her purse. It said that her name was Delia Prentiss, from Vermilion Heights. "That's way up there north-west," she explained. "But your boobs, I mean, you look very feminine," Rudy said. "Well, it was an accident in Introductory Pharmacology. Like, I never even signed up for that class and I guess I accidentally ate something. I went to the infirmary and somehow they got even bigger. So I think it's gotta reverse some time." "How big are those?" Delia wrinkled her nose and nodded at Rudy's chest. "Well, how big are yours?" "Well, these are only temporary. I was just wearing them for drama class. When this drill is over I'm just going to go back to plain old Rudy." "Rudy's your name? My name is, or was, Gordon. I guess Delia's not so bad." "What's your next class?" "Elementary Psychology," Delia replied. "What's yours?" "Hey, cool. I'm there next, too. It could be nice to have a sort of a girlfriend, I guess," Rudy laughed lightly. "Well, I'm probably going to sit with my boyfriend," Delia shrugged. "Your boyfriend? But I thought you said you're really not a girl." "Tsk," Delia hissed. "There had to be some kind of problem in the housing department, 'cause my roommate's a guy, and it's a single room." "Really?" Rudy gasped. "That's exactly what happened to me. Too much for a coincidence, wouldn't you think?" "Yeah," answered the shorter half-transformed guy. "Oh shit, look, they're announcing something." The pair stood silently as the administrative official announced that the drill was over and that all the students could proceed to their next classes. A young man appeared from a treed pathway among the campus buildings, and walked directly towards the spot where Delia and Rudy waited. "Babe, there you are. Gimme a nice kiss." The guy was strong and square-jawed, and he seized Delia quickly by the shoulders and gave her a quick, hard kiss on the lips. "Who's your little friend here, Delia?" he asked. He released her from the kiss and wrapped one arm around her shoulder, keeping her close to him. "This is Julie. She's new." "Catching up on your education?" the young man smiled slyly. Rudy became nervous as the newcomer's eyes roved over his body. "I'm Doug. They call me 'Piper', well, my friends do, and I guess if you're my babe's friend then you can too." The groups of people around the parking lot began to disperse, and the trio of Rudy, Piper and Delia walked together to their next class. Rudy had hoped to have a chance to remove his high-heeled boots and the prosthetic breasts, but Piper warned that they would be late for Elementary Psychology if they didn't go immediately. "You could get expelled, and then you'd have to start all over again." The psychology laboratory was nothing special. A tired and grumpy professor stood near the front, boring everyone to death with some kind of theoretical jargon about behaviour and physiology. More than once, Rudy found himself slipping into a near slumber. The instructor's bland monotone broke in a dramatic shout. "Miss Serafin! Wake up, Miss Serafin!" "What!?" Rudy wailed. The class started laughing, even Delia, who sat at a counter roughly five feet from Rudy's chair. "I need a volunteer to illustrate the Spector Conjecture, which we have been learning for the last twenty minutes. You can come up front, here, and assist in the demonstration." "Oh, okay," Rudy acquiesced. He stepped carefully up to the front of the classroom, where the white-haired instructor motioned him to stand in front of an apparatus consisting of a wooden frame the size of a television set, with silver and copper wires running over its surface. He flushed visibly as he saw the older man staring at his ass. "Can we get on with this?" Rudy asked quietly. "Of course. There are two Spector stimuli nodes on the machine. Marked there as A and B. You see them Miss Serafin?" Rudy nodded. He let much of his long brown hair slip into his face in case the professor wanted to embarrass him in front of the class. "According to the Conjecture, naturally, you have the choice of two correct answers yet, of course, one of the responses is more correct than the other one. You have paid attention, of course, naturally, Miss Serafin, so it will be no problem for you to assert the confidence level of the point of divergence. Normatively speaking of course." "Huh?" "Touch either node A or node B. This will ascertain the tangential limits of the test data, Miss Serafin." "Oh, right," Rudy replied, completely lost in the technical mumbo-jumbo. He reached out to touch a copper wire protruding near the letter A. "Ouch!" he yelped, pulling his arm back suddenly. "That shit zapped me!" The professor raised a single finger as though a light bulb had appeared in his mind. "Okay. We have the delineation point then, Miss Serafin. Excellent." "Excellent?" Rudy cried. "That just about electrocuted me. You fucking sadist!" "Calm down, Miss Serafin. According to the Spector Conjecture, therefore, the auto-response ought to be limited through choice. So choose again. If the limits are correct, then you simply choose the wrong node." "Oh, okay. That makes sense, I guess. My finger's almost paralysed though." "Not paralysed, Miss Serafin. Reticular static hyperphony, perhaps. But certainly not paralysis. Once you obtain your advanced medical degree you will know the difference." Rudy blinked several times to clear the unintentional tears from his eyes. "So what. I need to choose the other node?" "You need to choose either node," the instructor corrected. "If I were to tell you to select the node marked B, I would be throwing out my scientific objectivity." "Okay," Rudy sighed, pressing his right forefinger against a wire projecting near the letter B on the apparatus. A searing light blinded him as a shock, several times more violent than the first, pinned Rudy's elbow against the apparatus. He blacked less than ten seconds later. The instructor took another ten seconds to disconnect the apparatus. "Now, you all have seen the empirical evidence of the recombinant support level for the theories discussed in this session. As Miss Serafin will undoubtedly require some assistance to the infirmary. I do believe she's out cold." Piper raised his hand and volunteered to help. Together with another guy, they lifted Rudy by his arms and legs and carried him to the infirmary. Delia tagged along. When Rudy opened his eyes, he sensed he was in a seated position, in front of a long table. The tabletop contained beakers, flasks and networks of small rods and clamps. "Chemistry class?" he thought. He looked to his right, and there sat Delia, smiling curiously at him. Her lips were moving, as though she was whispering, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. He felt cool air on his legs, and an itchy sensation on his left shoulder blade. He smoothed his hands over his thighs, down to his calves, and discovered that his boots had been removed. "Psychology class. That's right. I must've lost my boots there." Rudy continued thinking in silence, unable to hear what was going on in the class. He tried mouthing some words, and realised that his voice was missing too. "Or maybe I just can't hear myself talk. I wonder if deaf people can hear themselves talk?" Rudy stretched out his legs to the side, looking at his feet. They were adorned with a pair of high-heels, but not the slick black boots he'd worn in drama class. Instead, there was a pair of strappy high-heeled shoes, bright red and clashing awfully with the pink on his top and his orange hot pants. "If I'm going to continue dressing like a girl, I'm gonna have to do something about my fashion sense. This is awful!" Delia seemed to concur, since her attention was drawn by Rudy's focus on his footwear. She smiled sweetly. Rudy grinned at her in return. He felt a tap on his shoulder. Swinging around, he saw the chemistry teacher, a tall woman in her thirties, standing impatiently in front of his table. She set a pair of beakers on the table in front of him. Her lips moved, and Rudy heard nothing, pointing repeatedly at his ears, mouth and throat with both hands. Everyone in the classroom, roughly a dozen guys, along with Delia, the only other female student there, shifted on their tall stools to watch Rudy with some degree of merriment. The calm gesticulations of the chemistry teacher seemed to indicate that the two beakers contained some sort of cure for his impediments. She pointed at the first container, filled with a translucent puce liquid, then at her own lips and throat. Then she indicated the second glass, containing a cloudy white solution, and her own ears. Rudy's memory began to surge back. If this was another Spector Conjecture, or whatever it was, he was going to resign from the Polyacademic Institute regardless of the consequences. Timidly, he took the cloudy solution and drank it. At once, he began to hear sounds, faintly at first, and then the normal buzz of a classroom environment. Happy with the results of the first remedy, he swilled the second beaker full of pinkish liquid. It had a tingling effect on his throat as it went down. "Hi there. I am Julie," he said, testing his vocal chords. "Very good, Julie. You know your name," intoned the chemistry teacher. Rudy heard a high-pitched voice emit from his lips, much daintier and more musical than the instructor's reply. He thought it sounded like a human voice altered by inhaling helium. "I. Am," he began, slowly, realising that his voice, indeed, had changed to a rather annoyingly demure pitch and tone. "Julie. Hey! What was in that solution?" Even when trying to sound angry, Rudy heard his voice projecting as soft, sweet and feminine. "If you don't object, Julie, we're going to continue our chemistry lessons. I am sure that you will find the lessons to be just what you need to get past your identity crisis. Lord knows you've been a handful for Doctor Farragut of the Parapsychology Department." Rudy felt as though he was still deaf for the rest of the lecture. He scribbled a few notes on a scrap of paper during the lesson, but could care less about what he was supposed to be learning. Chemistry was boring, that's all. Once class was finished, he accompanied Delia to the hallway and quickly engaged in a vigorous conversation. She first told him that Piper would be along soon and that she'd have to leave when that happened. "My voice is all sissy and squeaky," Rudy complained. "No it isn't. It's quite sweet. Maybe you oughtta hear yourself. You could charm the golden boy off the top of the Manitoba parliament." "No, I mean it," Rudy whined. "This sucks!" "Shit, I'd be happy if my voice changed like that. In fact, I gotta get Piper to ask that teacher for some of it. I know he'll get what he wants, 'cause everyone does whatever the wrestling team wants." "Hey. My boyfriend, er, roommate's on the wrestling team too," Rudy said, reaching his right arm over his back to scratch at the pinprick itching on his left shoulder blade. He was struck by the sensation of his breast compressing into his ribcage as his arm reached over it. "The wrestling team is quite the wow," Delia stated, somewhat cryptically, yet Rudy understood the meaning of the phrase from its context. "They're just good as the Hilltops. That's the team from the U of S." The itching on his shoulder blade subsided somewhat after a short scratch. Rudy glumly said good-bye to Delia as Piper arrived to scoop her away under a single powerful arm. He saw the daytime sunlight intensify as the afternoon progressed and decided to return to the Barracks. As he walked, still new to the tiptoe steps required to stay upright, he realised that the breast forms were sensitive to the brassiere fabric. It was as though they were no longer prostheses, but had become a part of his body. "I wonder what happened in between the Spector Conjecture and that damned ridiculous chemistry class," he thought. "They must've fucking made my tits real. I should've known. If it happened to Delia, then it would've happened to me too." He wiggled along the stone path leading to his room. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the Albatross was not there. "God, I could use a shower and a change. I feel totally blasted by all that psychology shit." Rather than making a selection from the large wicker case, he pulled the whole thing, with considerable effort, to the bathroom. He switched on the shower to make the water the right temperature, and stripped off his shoes, hot pants and half-shirt. The mirror was clouding slightly from the humidity of the running shower water, so Rudy took a wash cloth and cleared an area to see his reflection. The heavy white cups of the brassiere formed his breasts into a pair of pale monstrosities, with a deep shadowy groove between them. "I wonder if they sag when I'm braless?" He slipped the thick, padded straps off his shoulders and drew the brassiere down, over his breasts, to his tummy, where he could more easily shift it around to undo the hooks. Rudy wiped off the mirror again once he'd unhooked the bra and laid it on the sink. "Whoof, these are something." His boobs sagged a couple of inches, slinging naturally to either side, though still perched rather high on his chest. Without the bra to contain them, the edges of his breasts nearly hid his upper arms. His areolae spread out half a hand's width from the soft, darker nipples. A closer inspection of his reflection even revealed Montgomery's tubercles surrounding the areolae. "Good god, they sure did a job on these boobs," Rudy thought. He picked up the bra and looked at the label. "36 triple-D. Shit, I'd hate to see what triple-M would look like. These things are monsters as it is." As the shower continued to run, Rudy burrowed through the wicker case, and found other bras, happily the right size. "Couldn't have planned it better. Hmm." He stripped off his panties and climbed into the shower. The spray of warm water was a comfort amid the horrible experiences of his first day at summer school. Rudy smoothed soap over his body, noticing the unusual sensitivity of his breasts. It wasn't merely touching the nipples that sent shivers through his body. Rudy discovered a similar sensation when rubbing his hands up, over his ribs, and along the vast base of each of the globes. It was an erotic sensation, yet not the same as any produced when he'd masturbated. It coursed as though into his soul, not just his physical body. "I think I'll get to enjoy taking showers more often," he smiled to himself, grabbing a towel and drying off. He withdrew a clean bra from the case and prepared to put it on. As his skin dried, the irritation returned to his shoulder blade. Before putting on the underwired white lace bra, he cleaned the mist from the mirror again, and turned to discover the source of the itch. In black ink, he saw an inch-wide image of a bird, with long outstretched wings. "What the hell is that? A duck?" He practically sat on the sink and peered at the reflection. "An albatross. A fucking albatross. When did I get that? I'm gonna have to have a little chat with my roommate." Although Rudy scratched lightly at the image, it was increasingly obvious that the albatross was indelibly tattooed on his shoulder blade. Muttering, he put on a fresh set of clothes, trying to find something that matched his red high-heeled shoes. He chose a short black jacket, encrusted with shiny sequins, first. It had no buttons or ties in the front, so quarter moons of breast flesh were clearly visible. Rudy figured it would do since he wasn't planning to go anywhere. He also picked a plain blue skirt that flared from his hips and scarcely hid a pair of pink panties worn underneath. The mist had dissipated from the mirror, and the summer student decided his hair was all right, but his eyes and lips were just too much Rudy and too little Julie. "I ain't going out anywhere. I wonder if there's anything in this case for make-up?" He found a smaller case containing mascara, lipstick, and other cosmetics. And there was a neat pamphlet explaining the application of the products. "I think I'm getting to know why it takes girls for-fucking-ever to get ready." After nearly three-quarters of an hour of experimentation, Rudy accepted that his complexion was satisfactory without blush, foundation, or anything else requiring skills he simply couldn't learn that quickly. Mascara and lipstick, though, weren't as demanding in their application, and he was surprised at the subtle attention they drew to his face. He only wished his hair was styled in a more voluminous fashion. He thought about Delia's gorgeous ringlets, and compared her hair to the flat, straight, brown hair that just hung off his head. Rudy headed out of the bathroom and returned to D-102. As he was about to twist the doorknob, he heard voices inside. He could tell that the Albatross was in there, talking to someone else. Two male voices. He looked down at the deep, visible cleavage formed by the bra and his casually open jacket, and decided to turn the knob in spite of the image it appeared to project. He had to talk to the Albatross nevertheless. "Oh, hey Julie. There you are," grinned the wrestler. "You ever meet Wild Bill here?" On the only chair in the room sat a pudgy, bespectacled young man, with dirty blonde hair in strings down to his shoulders. "No, I never met Wild Bill." "Well, Julie, this is Wild Bill," the Albatross said. "Now you met him. There you go." "There you go, what?" Rudy asked. He was alarmed that Wild Bill was looking him up and down like a cat would a canary. He was eating handfuls of Cheezies from a bag on the small desk. "I just got outta jail," Wild Bill explained. "What were you there for?" Rudy inquired. "Wild Bill's a bank robber," smiled the Albatross. "Old school buddy. Just a little crazy is all." "A bank robber?" Wild Bill began to laugh heavily. "I robbed three banks in Stettler. Took me a whole day to hitchhike there too." "You hitchhiked to Alberta to rob a bank?" Rudy asked, dumbfounded. "No, to rob three banks. I got about $25,000 too. So I hitchhiked up to Calgary and bought a plane ticket to New York." "You gotta hear this shit. It's fuckin' unbelievable," howled the Albatross. "Shut up, Albo," growled Wild Bill, in a voice less menacing than comical. Rudy found it difficult to believe that anyone in a bank would believe that this guy would even be serious if he produced a note or a gun. "Did you have a gun?" Rudy asked for clarification. "Yep, a little one that I got from my probation officer. I found it in her office when I broke in there." "What were you on probation for?" Rudy sighed. He folded his arms over his jacket. Wild Bill was looking straight at his boobs for the entirety of the story, and it made Rudy uncomfortable at the least. "Selling synthetic MDA at a high school. My buddy was making it out of a farm right around P.A. You know that one fifth of all the synthetic chemical stimulant production in North America is right here in Saskatchewan? I mean, there's dope everywhere, but you gotta see the profit margarine in synth drugs." "So what? You got arrested in New York or what?" "No fuckin' way. I spent a bunch of the cash on video games at an arcade in Manhattan and it took like about half a year. I bought three hundred comic books and shipped them to my folks' place. So I was all broke in, like, six months. So I flew back and they arrested me after I went back to Stettler for more money." Rudy started laughing, although his transformed voice projected a silly high-pitched giggling. "Hey. Fuck. I'm loaded now though. I mean, the bastards sent me to prison but never got the comic books. So I've been selling them around at a pretty good profit." The Albatross smiled and nodded, holding up both hands in front of him, palms facing Wild Bill, as though to tell him he'd said enough. "Sorry, Albo. Just get a kick outta that story. Two years less a day and out in, like, four months 'cause my lawyer's smarter than the RCMP. Haw-haw!" The Albatross stood up and motioned to Rudy as he opened the door and exited into the hallway. Rudy followed. "Hey, you know, Wild Bill's pretty hard up. And he's a very old pal o' mine. You know?" "No, I don't know," Rudy answered. "You know, I got a bone to pick with you. I mean, a tattoo. Mean anything?" "Julie," said the Albatross, calmly placing both meaty hands on Rudy's shoulders. "We can talk about your problems later. Believe me. I am a very good listener, and I happen to like hearing your problems. But right now, I'm trying to help out another very good, very close, and very personal friend." "Just how?" Rudy demanded. "Should I be suspicious?" "Listen. It's not just a favour. You can get twenty bucks..." "You want me to sleep with him? That Cheezie-stuffed pig?" Rudy flailed his slender arms in the air, allowing his jacket to flap freely. The Albatross took a step back, admiring Rudy's new boobs. "Jesus, baby, you've got a real nice set of tits there. I could swear I never noticed that shit last night." "Albatross. I know you gotta know everything about these. I mean, you're on the wrestling team, and Piper's on the wrestling team, and Delia's got a bigger pair than me and I met her in chemistry or outside or whatever. Don't act so stupid with me!" "Seriously," shrugged the Albatross. "If I knew what you were talking about, I'd tell you. Now we can talk about all this later. But Wild Bill's a real, real, real good pal, and I hate disappointing good pals. I'll make up the whole fuckin' thing to you later. And it ain't sleepin' with him. Just a nice handjob or something. Nothin' weird. No fucking. You got to trust me. And it's a simple, easy twenty bucks. Come on, Julie, you got to help me on this one." "Listen, okay, this once. No problem. But you have to promise me we'll talk right after, okay" Rudy felt helpless dealing with the Albatross, and the entire situation seemed beyond explanation, let alone control. "Here. Put this in your purse, Julie." The wrestler gave Rudy a twenty-dollar bill. "This is the easiest twenty bucks you'll ever make. He hasn't been with a girl, I don't think ever. Could be a two minute job. Please." The Albatross bent forward and planted a small kiss on the top of Rudy's head. "Go ahead, Julie. I'll be right out here and it will all be okay. You gotta trust me." Rudy frowned in contempt, although he knew well that his money would run low soon if he had to buy all new clothes. If his suitcase wasn't returned by the bus company. If he started failing the classes. And he wasn't off to a good start to the semester. Smiling artificially, he turned from his roommate and went back into the room to face Wild Bill. The unkempt bank robber had shifted from the wooden chair and relaxed, seated, on the edge of the bed. "Hi," Rudy stated pertly. "Hi. Hey, sweetheart, close the door behind you. Then, I gotta see those luscious jugs of yours." Rudy closed the door, listening for any trace of the Albatross out in the hallway. He turned and stripped off his jacket and turned his back to Wild Bill. "Care to unhook this?" "Yeah, shit yeah," Wild Bill enthused. "Right after I get naked for you." After a flurry of stripping, Rudy felt Wild Bill's meaty hands on his back, undoing the bra. "Hey, shit. Nice tat. You're really Albo's bitch, are you?" "Oh sure," beamed Rudy, falsely. He exaggerated the motion of removing the bra entirely, letting his breasts wobble in front of the bank robber's face. Beneath his doughy belly, Wild Bill's cock jutted in anticipation. "So what's you're pleasure, Wild Bill?" "Something a little interesting," grinned the young man. "Sit down on that chair opposite me. I got something you might call a fetish." Rudy sat down. "A fetish? What kind of fetish?" "Keep your shoes on. Just stroke me with your feet. Nice and slow and easy." Rudy's jaw nearly slammed onto the floor. "A foot fetish? I mean, um, of course, a foot fetish." He moved his feet to either side of Wild Bill's erection, stroking it slowly, almost tenderly. Albatross was right. Wild Bill came in less then three minutes. Rudy practically fell back off his chair as the first jet of sperm blew straight up in a high arch. It finally splattered on his left breast. The rest of the cum ejaculated in decreasing arcs, landing on his legs and, finally, all over his feet and shoes. "Whoo-hoo, that was really fun, wasn't it?" Rudy lied. "Oh yeppers," grunted Wild Bill. "Best forty bucks I ever did spend. You'll be seein' me again soon, Julie." "Forty bucks?" Rudy gasped inaudibly. He watched in false amusement as Wild Bill collected his clothing, dressed, and left the room. Immediately upon the Albatross' return, he flew into a torrent of rage. "You fucking bastard. You ripped me off! Wild Bill told me. He paid you forty bucks and you gave me twenty. What's that all about? Give me the other twenty." "Calm down, Julie. You'd make a lot more sense if you didn't have cum dripping off your tits. You want more than fifty per cent? You come with me and we'll work Saskatoon. There ain't enough action in this two-bit burg anyways." "Listen, you shit. I got my shoes fucking ruined and twenty bucks won't buy me shit." "Don't worry about your shoes. I'll get you a new pair. I take care of the expenses, you know. You think all this is cheap?" "All what?" Rudy asked. "Your boobs. Your clothes. Everything. You think it's all free? Girl, you got another dream comin'." Rudy stood in stunned silence. "Here, you think you can get a better deal being from downtown Putzy Lake or wherever you're from? This is big time, Julie. You gotta think before you start yappin'." "It's Portage Lake and, yeah, I do think I'd be better off just quittin' here and going back." "All right," the Albatross sneered. "I'll tell you what. I'll just pull out my cell phone here, and call Daddy and let you explain what you've been doing here in Middleford. Let's see..." Rudy watched as the wrestler keyed in the numbers and handed him the phone. "Is it ringing?" "Hello?" Rudy heard his father say on the other end of the line. "Hello? Who is this?" Rudy paused, realising the futility of trying to convince his father of anything that had happened to him while at summer school. "Who is this?" demanded the voice. "This is, er, Julie. Julie Serafin," Rudy sighed. "I, I'm sorry, sir, I must have the wrong number." THE END