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Author's note: I intended this as a shorter story, but it decided it wanted to be a novelette. Almost 14000 words! This is actually my first bit of fiction submitted; comments and feedback are VERY much appreciated and desired! *** TRANSFUSION By dcb42 I waved from the window as Mom and Dad drove off. It took a few minutes to realize that I really was alone in the house - that they really were gone. Freedom! For two whole weeks! Certainly I'd not expected this when the subject of a trip to visit Great-Aunt Jenny came up. I fully expected to be dragged along up to her big old creaky house in the back of beyond, bored out of my wits. But there'd been a stroke of luck - Mrs. Andrews down the street was out of town on business, and she'd asked me to keep an eye on her place - take in her mail, feed her fish, that kind of thing. So my folks hemmed and hawed, but in the end they decided not to put off the trip - Great-Aunt Jenny's getting on in years, and both of them have pretty demanding job schedules (Dad's a consultant for a defense contractor - something to do with the computers on those new unmanned drone things - and Mom's a lawyer). So in the end they told me, "Kevin, you're responsible enough to handle things, we think." Well, in point of fact I am. I've always been a 'good boy,' you know? Polite, friendly, decent grades, no drinking or drugs. And really, my folks were pretty good about trusting me - they didn't even bat an eye when I said I wanted to take a year off before going to college. They didn't like leaving me alone, though, because... well, how about I get to that later. I spent a couple of hours doing... well, nothing at all, really. I ate supper and didn't bother cleaning the dishes. I left the TV on while I was in the other room. I didn't take out the trash. Basically, I was just plain lazy. You're wondering why I didn't get on the phone with my friends and throw a huge party, aren't you? Good question. There are two reasons. One is, all my friends were gone. Remember how I said I was taking a year off before college? Well, graduation was five months ago, summer was over, and none of my friends took the same route. All of them went straight to school, and those schools weren't exactly close by - I hung out with a pretty brainy crowd in high school, so they all got into places like Georgia Tech and Harvard and CalTech and anyways, the upshot is, they weren't around. The other reason... again, I'm gonna hold off. It's the same reason my folks didn't like spending a lot of time away from me, let's leave it at that for the moment. Anyways, there's only so much TV a mind can take before melting and there weren't any good movies on, so I figured I'd walk down to Mrs. Andrews' and feed her poor fish. Mrs. Andrews went through fish at a frankly astonishing rate, really - she did everything right, fed them just enough, cleaned their tanks, consulted with the pet shop people to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything... and still they died on her at an alarming rate. Poor lady. No one could figure out what she was doing wrong, but nary a week went by without her needing to flush another of the little buggers, and she was always so busted up about it. I didn't want her to come home to still _more_ dead fish. It was getting a bit chilly out, autumn just barely creeping up on us, so I grabbed a windbreaker from the closet and stopped to give myself the old once-over. I saw the same old me in the hall mirror that I always did - just a little shorter than average, slender build, pretty unremarkable. I'd started wearing my hair long over Dad's protests, and had it tied back in a ponytail; the color could charitably be called 'dishwater blonde.' I lamented, as I always did, my lack of classically rugged good looks - my features were softer, smoother than most, and my blue eyes were wide. Some quirk of genetics meant I only had to shave every couple of days, and my cheeks were smooth as the proverbial baby's bottom. I didn't look handsome, as much as I wanted to. Cute, maybe. Pretty, even. Not a word most young men like hearing applied to them! But, well, it is what it is. I zipped up the windbreaker and headed out the door, sighing. I've never had a girlfriend, by the way. I wish, I really do, that I could blame that on my looks. But I can't. It was that thing again, that reason I keep avoiding, my... special circumstances. I'd been dwelling on them more and more lately. It's not my fault, you understand. I didn't ask to be this way, I just... ...I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I never even saw the car. *** Scattered fragments of memory. The EMT kneeling over me in the back of the ambulance, reading the information on the medical bracelet on my wrist. "Kid's got some kind of exotic blood condition," he's telling his partner. "Says he can take anything but don't give his blood to anyone else. Also says only give him blood in extreme emergencies, but I think this is one." I want to tell him something, but I can't. Blackness. Doctors and lights and nurses. There's a whirlwind of near-panic for a few moments, and then things seem calmer. "Okay, this isn't anywhere near as bad as I was afraid it'd be," one of the doctors is saying. "Have we contacted the parents?" A nurse is saying something but I can't make it out. I know what it is anyways, though. Great-Aunt Jenny doesn't have a working phone. She can call out, but the ringer's been broken for years, she can't get incoming calls. They won't be able to contact... Dizzy. Fade. More blackness. His hands running through my long red hair, the scent of him, the feel... my breath is catching in my throat, my pulse is pounding in my ears, my legs start to spread... ...wait, that isn't... who... Oh God. *** My eyes snap open, and I can hear the heart monitor beeping insistently, reflecting my heightened pulse rate. I have to blink a few times before my eyes adjust to the harsh glare of the fluorescents. Hospital room. All toothpaste-white and gleaming metal, sterile and cold. The nurse comes in. She's on the wrong side of middle age, ready to roll down that hill she's getting over, her body not dealing with the strain of her job the way it used to. Her nametag says 'Angie' and she hates her job, I can see it in her eyes, but she tries to put on a smile for me anyways. I love her for that. "Hello, Kevin," she tells me, "you had us pretty worried for a bit there." The explanations come. There was an accident. A drunken driver had hit me. I'd had a fairly heavy concussion, but the EMTs had been worried there might have been spinal damage. There wasn't, blessedly. Bruises and scrapes, no broken bones. I was a very lucky young man. I kept glancing at the bandage on the inside of my right elbow. "Oh," Angie says when she notices, "you'd lost a fair amount of blood. That's just from the transfusion; it's nothing to worry about." If only she knew. *** Okay. It's time to spill the beans. I need you to give me the benefit of the doubt here, because this is going to sound more than a little weird. The reason I've never had a girlfriend, the reason I didn't throw a party? My family has... a thing about... well. Exchanging fluids, I guess is the best way to phrase it. It's because of our heritage. You know how some families can trace their ancestry back to the Pilgrims on the Mayflower, or whatever? Well, we can do that too. Only, see... we trace our heritage back to, I kid you not, the lost continent of Atlantis. I know. I know, it sounds crazy. Just bear with me. See, Atlantis wasn't really a continent. It wasn't even really a place. It was a... a tribe, I guess you'd call it. A people, an ethnicity. All that stuff about being a place of high magic and advanced technology and all of that, that's all propaganda. Myth. The Ancient Greeks invented democracy and philosophy and were generally a really cool people and all, except they had this tendency to conquer people and enslave them, and the Atlanteans were no different. (You didn't know the Greeks kept slaves? Read some history, seriously. They were big into the slavery.) So why did Plato write about Atlantis as this advanced place with canals and spires and magic that got swallowed by the sea? Well, it's like this. The Atlanteans didn't use magic, but they did have one particular... quirk, I guess... that seemed an awful lot like magic. The Atlanteans had, through some really messed-up freak of genetics, a unique ability. When Dad explained all this to me - Dad's side of the family is the Atlantean one - he had to start talking about this stuff called "orgone energy" and it made no sense, and I'm not even gonna try and repeat it. Even if I don't understand how it works, though, he was awfully clear on the effects. If an Atlantean absorbed any of your bodily fluids - if you had sex, for example - they could, somehow, quite literally _read your mind_. You'd fuck them and all of a sudden they'd know that you had a fetish for women in stockings and what your favorite song is and all sorts of other stuff. Most of the reading had to do with sex, because that's what you were doing at the time, but not all of it. This, Dad explained to me, is why people with Atlantean heritage make great lovers, because they learn _exactly_ how to please their partners, and then I had a mental image of my parents fucking and I yelled at him to stop. Thing is, this didn't always work out properly. What matters is, with some people, there was... feedback. Sometimes, an Atlantean would engage in a Link - that's what they called it, only in, you know, Atlantean- speak - with someone and the other person wouldn't... stay an individual. The mental contact didn't stop with the fluid exchange - the Atlantean _stayed in contact_ with the other person's mind, and the other person got weaker and weaker while the Atlantean's mind literally _absorbed_ theirs. That's actually the basis for most of the vampire myths, by the way. Anyways, Plato took an Atlantean slave for a lover, and he was certainly strong-willed enough to resist being drained - but his lover's sudden intimate knowledge of his innermost thoughts unnerved him, and so he wrote the story about Atlantis - because he was so freaked out by the fact that his slave-boy suddenly knew just how he liked to get his cock sucked and just what temperature he liked his wine chilled to and what his favorite color was, that he figured this sort of thing wasn't possible without some mighty magic, and he invented a 'lost civilization' to explain it. Crazy, huh? This is why I was two months shy of my nineteenth birthday and still a virgin. It's been drilled into my head from the age of ten that exchanging fluids with someone is _never_ to be done lightly, because if the other person isn't strong enough, I could _kill_ them - and even if they are strong enough to survive the Link, I would know them _intimately_ - and even if I was mature enough to handle that knowledge, they would almost certainly not be mature enough to handle my having said knowledge. People like us, Dad explained, really _do_ have to be sure we've found that 'special someone' before we take the plunge. This is also why they didn't like leaving me alone - because they knew perfectly well the kinds of temptation out there for a hormone-addled teen, and didn't want to give me any chances to screw up. And I never had. But the hospital just screwed it up for me. Thing is - and I'm almost done with the exposition, I promise - sex isn't the only way to exchange bodily fluids. Exchange of blood creates an even stronger Link, an even more dangerous one - but among the ancient Atlanteans, it was the highest sign of love and loyalty and commitment. That's where the whole 'blood brothers' idea got started, too, with them. A Blood Link lasts forever. My mind was now inextricably linked with someone - Christ, maybe multiple someones, there could have been more than one donor! - that I had never met. I had no idea if they were strong enough to handle the pull of my mind. I had no idea what I would find if I went looking into their mind. All I knew is that whoever it was, they were a part of my life, now and forever more. ...and the brief glimpse I'd gotten in my dream had given me a hell of a hard-on. *** The hospital kept me overnight for observation. Since I was eighteen, I was legally able to sign myself out the next day. Scrapes and bruises, like they said - I was feeling fine, though I got occasional dizzy spells. I called a cab and went home and collapsed in my bed. What was I going to say to Dad? Nothing, I decided. Nothing at all, Dammit. _I_ hadn't fucked things up - I hadn't done anything wrong! There was no escaping telling them about the accident, but I had always healed fast - another byproduct of my heritage - and I could shrug it off as being nothing serious. "It probably won't even be that big a deal anyways," I mumbled under my breath, closing my eyes. "Won't matter one bit..." Sleep claimed me. *** "Damn, Karen," came the whispered voice in my ear as arms slid 'round my waist, "you look spectacular." I did, too. My corset - John loved the corset - cinched up my already- slim waist, brought my breasts up, gave me a generous amount of cleavage. The fact that it was _all_ I was wearing helped a lot too. John encircled me with his arms, ran his hands over the smooth vinyl corset as I leaned back against him with a little shiver. I couldn't help but shiver a little as I felt a stirring in his pants, brushing against my bared ass; he's always gotten me hot, and what's worse, he knows it. I turned in his arms to look up at him, licking red-painted lips as his chiseled jaw came into view, his handsome features, those gorgeous dark eyes... he smiled a secret little smile down at me and whispered, "Do you have to go?" Oh, I was so tempted, so very tempted... but the hubby would be home from work soon, and... "I do," I whispered up at him, "even if I don't want to..." His arms tightened around me, gave a little squeeze, and he opened his mouth to protest. To forestall him, I threw him my most dazzling smile and added, "But I have a _couple_ of minutes..." I sank to my knees, and he released me, knowing what was coming next, his smile becoming a grin as I started to unfasten his pants. One of his hands moved to my air, started running through the silken red tresses, setting my curls to bouncing... my hair was my pride and joy. It fell in curls down to the small of my back, and I was fastidious about caring for it, so very proud of that fiery mane... it had been my hair that caught John's eye, that had caught so many eyes over the years. He knew just what I liked, tightening his hand into a fist and giving a little tug as I pulled down his pants, freeing that glorious cock of his, and I rewarded him with a low moan... John's cock was absolutely beautiful. Just looking at it, gently bobbing and swaying mere inches from my face, was enough to kickstart the tightness in my stomach, the wetness in my loins. He loved it when I sucked his cock, and lucky for him I loved sucking it - I've always had a bit of an oral fixation. I wrapped my fingers around his hard shaft, admiring the red-painted nails of my fingers, the contrast in colors, and started to slowly, gently stroke him before leaning up and in, my lips parting, my tongue licking ever so delicately along the underside of his cock. My free hand slid down between my legs (oh God I was so fucking wet) and started rubbing my bare pussy while I wrapped my lips around him, the tip of my tongue teasing the flared edge of his head... I only had a few minutes, alas, so I didn't have the time to give John the long, slow, languorous blowjob that I wanted to. I took my time at first, teasing, tasting, getting him all worked up, but another little tug of my hair set me off again, and soon I was bobbing my head back and forth, stroking the base of his cock, slick with my saliva, sucking hard every time I pulled back, then releasing the pressure as I moved forward, feeling the head of that hefty tool pressing the back of my throat... I was moaning, too, but not loudly enough to drown out the wet sounds from between my legs, my fingers slick with my juices... I was hoping to time it right, to get us both to come at the same time, and there was a throbbing in my mouth and John was groaning and gripping the back of my head now and I knew it was time so I got ready to swallow as I started shaking and spasming with the intense pleasure of my orgasm and then there was a rush of heat and his cock was erupting in my mouth and I had to work hard to swallow every drop and oh God why can't it be like this with Max and I was screaming against John's cock and he was crying out my name and the salty thick come was filling my mouth and I knew I was going to be late but it didn't matter John picked me up as I gasped for breath and carried me back to the bed and yes yes I want him to fuck me fuck me so fucking hard oh God *** I awoke with a startled gasp. My bedsheets were soaked through with sweat - and not just sweat, either. _Jesus,_ I thought, _that was some fucking dream,_ blinking at the darkened bedroom. The clock on my nightstand read 3:14 AM. _Holy fuck..._ It wasn't my first wet dream. I mean, I'd been through puberty and all. But I felt like I must have come a gallon as I weakly stumbled out of bed and towards the shower, hoping the water would clear my head. "Karen, huh?" I mused, turning on the water, letting it get nice and hot. "Must be the blood donor... she's a spirited one, it looks like, so I'm probably safe..." I didn't realize until I'd stepped out of the shower that I'd not used my usual shampoo. I'd used my Mom's shampoo and conditioner - the label said 'volumizing.' "Well, what's it gonna hurt?" I asked myself, shrugging. I've always liked having long hair - maybe it's time I started taking care of it, getting a little more fastidious. "Shame it's so straight - I wish it was curly..." I stopped, stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. _That wasn't my thought,_ I realized. _That was Karen's thought. I'm getting bleedover. Does that... is it what Dad told me about? Is it just an aftereffect of the Link, or am I... am I taking that from her?_ I didn't know. But for the first time in a long time, I didn't look at my face and wish I was more rugged, more masculine-looking... and try as I might, I couldn't push the memory from my mind. The memory of sucking cock. I stood there staring for at least twenty minutes before I realized I was hard again... I was hard because I was thinking about John's cock, and how it felt in my - Karen's, dammit! - mouth. I didn't get back to sleep for a long while after that... and Mom and Dad weren't getting back for another eleven days, which meant I wasn't going to be able to ask Dad for help. Even if it meant telling him, I decided, I needed help. I needed to... to be able to draw a line between _my_ mind and _Karen's_ mind. Because until I figured out how to do that I'd be stuck like this, hard as a rock and fantasizing about another man's cock in my mouth. It wasn't even just an idle thought. I _knew_ how to suck cock, I realized. Where the sensitive regions were to tease with my tongue. How to start off slowly, teasingly, short little strokes before pushing forward and taking that thick cock in my mouth, in my throat, suppressing the urge to gag... No, I didn't get back to sleep for a very long while indeed. *** By the time I finally woke up, I knew without even consciously thinking about it that Karen was married to Maxwell Sinclair, an advertising executive. It wasn't a happy marriage. John was the latest in a string of lovers. Karen was... I don't know if I'd call her a nymphomaniac, but she certainly had an active libido, and Max simply wasn't around enough to satisfy her - or attentive enough. She and I both suspected he might secretly be gay. I also knew more about hair care than I'd ever thought I would know - Karen took enormous pride in her hair, as well she should, it was lovely - as well as how to drive a stick shift, various ways of applying makeup, and, oddly, the words to half a dozen Beatles songs. I'd not had any of the vivid dreams again, so I had no way of knowing what sort of effect the Link was having on Karen, but I was hopeful that she would make it through okay. Hell, I didn't even know if the dream I _had_ had was real-time or a memory - for all I knew Karen was an old lady by now, who knew how long that blood had been stored? The matter weighed heavily on my mind while I had breakfast, but I pushed the thoughts aside. There was nothing I could really do about it, at any rate. I hadn't had a dizzy spell since returning home, and the IV puncture from the transfusion was healing up nicely - there might not even be a mark on me by the time Mom and Dad got home. I puttered around the house, watching TV, generally lazing about. I was on auto-pilot, just... existing, really. Everything going on had put me in a sort of light state of shock, and I simply couldn't deal. It was mid-afternoon by the time I snapped out of it. "Shit!" I sat bolt-upright, reaching for the remote and turning off the TV. "I never fed the fucking fish!" I hopped up and ran to my room, pulled on some clothes, pulled the curlers from my hair and ran for the door before realizing I'd forgotten my jacket. I stopped, ran back to the closet, grabbed my windbreaker and stopped dead as I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Curlers? When had I put curlers in my fucking hair? I'd done it without even thinking, I realized, in my auto-pilot daze - done it the way Karen would have if she'd needed to, though with her natural curls it was never an issue. I must have gotten them from Mom's things in the bathroom. "Jesus Christ," I muttered, "I'm _losing_ it..." But you know... the curls framed my face, softened my features. My hair wasn't near as long as Karen's, and curled it only reached to my jawline, but... but it looked really cute. I knew I should grab a hairbrush and brush them out, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it, I just looked at myself in the mirror and realized that with a little work... Slowly I walked back, went into my parents' room, found my Mom's makeup case. My hands were shaking like a leaf as I opened the lid; Mom had a _lot_ of makeup, all kinds of shades and colors for different situations. "As a lawyer," she'd said once, "and more importantly as a _woman_ lawyer, I have to use every tool at my disposal. And that includes my appearance." And she and I had very similar coloring... What could it hurt? I figured, reaching for the foundation. Three days ago I hadn't even known what foundation _was_. But I knew now - I knew about foundation, and lipstick, and eyeshadow and rouge and lip liner... I don't even know how long it took me. I didn't look at a clock. I just know that after I was done, I let myself look at the mirror, seeing not just whatever feature I'd been concentrating on but my whole face... And I looked _gorgeous_. The color really brought out my cheekbones, and the lipstick I'd chosen - a fairly trashy shade of red - made my lips look so full and lush... I didn't even recognize myself. I looked like a _girl_. Hell, if last week I had seen a girl that looked like this I'd've had to stop myself from asking for her number. Somehow, the thought pleased the hell out of me. The thought of a boy coming up to me and asking for my number made me giggle coquettishly, made me blush just a touch... It took me another few minutes before I snapped out of it. I washed my face (taking care to exfoliate) and brushed the curls out of my hair and threw on my windbreaker. I left the house at a dead run, as though maybe I could outrun the changes being wrought in my own mind. *** Two fish had died. I felt lousy as I removed the dead fish from the tank with the little net, flushed them down the toilet. "I know," I murmured to myself as I watched the water swirl, "I'll just get her some new fish! Mrs. Andrews goes through so many of them she'll never realize the switch anyways, especially not if I get some that are close to the ones that died." Immediately I felt better - I could make amends, and if Mrs. Andrews (in case you're wondering, Mr. Andrews had died several years ago of a heart condition) came home to a full fish tank she'd be so happy. Suddenly I felt a wave of nausea hit me, and the world swam before my eyes. Well, the doctors said the dizzy spells might return... I stumbled into Mrs. Andrews' bedroom and sat on the edge of her bed, gasping for breath, and the world suddenly snapped back into focus... but I wasn't in Mrs. Andrews' room anymore. I was writhing, naked, in my own bed, gasping with pleasure and delight. John was behind me, inside of me, his hard cock throbbing in my ass while his friend Eric knelt beside me and I had his cock in my mouth and it was hard to think with all the pleasure from being fucked and having two cocks inside of me and my hair was splayed out around me like a corona of flame and John was growling at me, telling me to suck it, telling me to suck that cock like the good little slut I am and it was true, I was a slut and I loved it I reveled in it I wanted more I wished there was a third man to put his big hard cock in my pussy too and then I'd have three cocks inside me and it still wouldn't be enough I needed to be filled oh fuck My own gasp brought me back to awareness, and Mrs. Andrews' room returned. It was so hard to think, dammit. I was me, I was Kevin not Karen. "I'm a man," I whispered, but I didn't quite believe it, there was some part of me that was a woman, a slutty woman, a woman who craved cock and wanted to be fucked. I shuddered, looked down at myself. "I'm a _man,_" I repeated, and it was easier to believe this time because I could see and feel the tenting effect in my jeans from the _raging_ hard-on I had. Jesus, the sense of Karen I got was so sexually- charged... I remembered Dad telling me that most Links are like that, but I thought it was because sex was the most frequent way of establishing a link - I guess I was wrong, I guess sex is a big part of a Link even when there's no sex involved... The sluttiness, the desire to be fucked and degraded, that worried me a little. Did that mean Karen's sense of self was being eroded by the Link? I couldn't tell... I flopped back in Mrs. Andrews' bed, shivering as I tried to get ahold of myself, stretching out a bit - and then I felt it. My hand brushed against something wedged in between the frame of the bed and the mattress. Curiously, I reached, pulled out... "Well. We always wondered why Mrs. Andrews never remarried. Maybe she never felt the need, with _this_ around." I'd found a dildo - a thick, hefty, flesh-colored plastic dong. It wiggled slightly in my hand, and I started to chuckle - but suddenly I got hit with another flash of memory, from the dream I'd had last night. My (Karen's) hand wrapped around John's cock, giving it a little squeeze before taking it in my (Karen's, dammit!) mouth. I licked my lips, throat suddenly gone dry, and the chuckle died in my mouth. I wondered... I wondered what it would feel like. If it would feel the same as it did in my (Karen's!) memory. I lifted the artificial shaft and gave it a tentative little kiss, my pulse throbbing in my ears, and... there's no other way to describe it. A _hunger_ came over me, a _need_. I put the base of the dildo down against the mattress and leaned over it and _thrust_ my face downwards, taking that fake cock in my mouth, taking it deep, feeling it push into my throat - I didn't even gag, maybe suppressing the reflex came through the Link too - before I started to bob my head up and down, fucking that thick plastic tool with my face, on all fours, waggling my ass as I swayed with each forceful thrust, and God help me, it felt _glorious_. I was sucking a fake cock and it was the best feeling I'd ever experienced and suddenly I heard a muffled cry of pleasure and I realized it was my own and I shuddered and collapsed to the bed as the front of my jeans darkened as I came harder than I'd ever managed before. I hadn't even touched myself and I'd spilled my seed in my pants and I felt so very, very good. When I shakily got to my feet to leave, I decided that since Mrs. Andrews wasn't due back for another few days, she wouldn't mind if I borrowed her toy. After all, I was going above and beyond the call of duty by getting her new fish, right? It was only fair that I should get a little bonus. Later, back at home, I measured it, and the dildo was a shade over eight inches long. And I could get the fake balls at its base pressed up against my chin if I tried hard enough. Which I did. Over and over again. *** Of course, one can only entertain oneself for so long. Eventually - by which I mean 'the next day' - I had to go out and get those new fish. I toyed with the idea of curling my hair again before going out but decided against it; the part of me that still thought of myself as a heterosexual male might be weakening, but it was still strong enough to prevent _that_. For how much longer, though? I took Dad's car - which I'd never driven before, as I'd never learned to drive a manual transmission, but thanks to Karen I knew how - to the mall. Money was not really an obstacle - both of my parents worked hard and were paid well, and they'd set me up with a pretty sizable bank account. Since my ATM card doubled as a check card, funds weren't an issue so long as I didn't go crazy. The pet store was the first stop. Two tropical fish later and I was all set, easy as pie. Then I hit the bookstore and picked up a few new novels. I was about to leave when I decided to wander around a bit more. _I don't go to the mall that often,_ I figured, _and since I'm here, I may as well..._ Before I knew it I'd spent over a hundred dollars on beauty supplies in the department store. Shampoo and conditioner, skin lotion, several lady's razors, a curling iron so I'd not have to borrow Mom's, some curlers, mousse, hairspray, a new hair dryer, I went all-out. The sales clerk looked at me a little funny as she rang up my purchases; I blushed and shrugged, telling her, "Mom gave me a list." She chuckled, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I couldn't have told you, at the time, why I wanted all of this stuff, I just... did. I couldn't have admitted to myself that I wanted to take them home and doll myself up, that I wanted to turn into a beautiful woman, that I wanted to be Karen, the woman who men desire. Which is exactly what I wanted, as you've no doubt guessed. But I couldn't have admitted it then, that's the point. I was headed back out to the mall entrance when I noticed one of the stores was new - well, sort of. See, there's this one storefront in the mall that's always doing seasonal stuff. In December they sell Christmas ornaments, in July they sell flags and patriotic stuff, that sort of thing. Well, like I may have mentioned, autumn was starting up, and the next big holiday was Halloween. And so, naturally, they'd put in a costume store. I stood there motionless, considering, for a full minute before walking out to Dad's car and putting my bags in the trunk. Then I turned around, went back inside, and made a beeline for the costume shop. The selection was _astonishing_. There were racks of the cheap packaged character costumes - you know the ones, a T-shirt and stockings that are printed to look like Spider-Man's costume and a cheap plastic mask, or a witch's hat and robes, that kind of thing - but near the back were shelves and displays of much more intricate pieces. Facial prosthetics to make you look like an alien from Star Trek, or that you'd been shot in the face - the good kind, the ones that you attach with spirit gum and cover up the seams with makeup. There were wigs and dyes and body paint, props and outfits. I couldn't believe the selection! "The boss is a distributor to some of the local playhouses and theater groups," came a voice from behind me. "So when it's Halloween time we get out the really top-of-the-line stock." I whirled, blinking, to look at the speaker. Remember how I said early on how I'd always wished I looked more rugged, more masculine? If I had, I'd've looked like him. He was maybe five inches taller than me - 5'10" or so - and lithely muscled, tight clothing showing off his trim, fit physique. He had short, tousled black hair and the most amazing green eyes I'd ever seen, dazzling and bright, with a chiseled jaw and sharp good looks. The nametag on his chest read 'Ted,' and I found myself wondering if he'd let me suck his cock. Ted grinned, held up a hand. "Sorry if I startled you," he said apologetically, obviously mistaking the sudden rush of color and heat in my face for embarrassment rather than arousal. "I just saw you looking, is all. Is there anything I can help you with?" I did _not_ say 'yes, you can bend me over that counter and fuck me until I pass out.' A part of me was still shocked that I wanted to. What I _did_ say, after some fidgeting, was, "Um... well, it's a little embarrassing, but... okay, look, it's like this. I made a bet with some friends. I lost. Now when our Halloween party gets here I have to go as a woman." A bit more fidgeting, blushing. The words had just spilled out, but they seemed right, somehow. "We get that from a few people every year," Ted told me with a laugh, gesturing. "Come on. First thing you'll want to do is make sure you've got all the right curves, right? A lot of guys think they can just get a set of fake boobs and call it good, but let me tell you, if you do it _right,_ you'll be the talk of the party - and I mean in a good way. People will be impressed if you go all-out and really work a transformation. Heck, I know a few guys that did it and went home with girls after, you know?" I walked over to him, blinking curiously. _I'd_ only figured on a pair of fake boobs, myself... Ted produced several items from behind a counter. "This," he told me, holding up a garment, "is a bodyshaper. It covers you up from your waist down to about mid-thigh, like a pair of shorts, see? But it's got padding here, in the hips, and here, in the butt. With one of these you can wear something tight - they're expecting tight, aren't they? Everyone does - and actually look good in it. I've got a waist cincher here, though some people really go nuts and actually get a corset. We sell corsets here but they're all pretty cheap; if you want a good one, I've got a card here for my sister, she does custom work. More expensive, but she'll get you a really good one. And then there are the breast forms, of course. You can go the cheap option and get a sort of... it's kind of like a plastic bra with the cups filled in, essentially, but again, if you want to go all-out, we sell some pretty good breast forms. You attach them to your chest with special tape or with spirit gum - you have to shave first, mind you - and they'll actually move and react like the genuine article. Do you want chesty, or petite?" I blinked at the torrent of information, the new possibilities unfolding before me. "I'd like the number of that corset place, please. And... chesty without being ridiculous, you know?" Ted nodded, grinning. "Big enough to be 'big,' but not so big that they become 'silly,' I get you. I'm thinking a C... here, hold these to your chest and look at that mirror there, see if that's what you have in mind." He held up two roughly teardrop-shaped pieces of plastic, and I took them gently; they squished a little under my fingertips. Silicon, maybe... I held the two breasts up to my T-shirt clad breasts and turned my head to look at my profile in the mirror, and they were _perfect_ - just big enough for my slender frame without looking out of proportion. I had to look away to keep myself under control, and I handed them back, stammering out, "Th-they're perfect. I'll take those, thank you." Ted grinned, still thinking I was embarrassed. I wasn't. I was fucking _horny_. But I wasn't about to correct him! We spent some time finding the right sizes for the bodyshaper, and then I gestured over towards the containers of hair coloring. "The sign says those wash out in a day?" "Sure do," Ted assured me. "If your hair was much fairer there might be some residue, but with your shade you should be fine." I picked up several tubes of the red with a smile. As Ted rang up my purchases he told me, "Hey, make sure you come in after the party and tell me how it went, huh?" I assured him that I would, but it wasn't _telling_ him I was thinking of, it was showing him. I wondered how he'd react... I was in a wonderful mood by the time I got home. I took a long shower, I shaved all over - which, if you've never done it, is quite a bit of work, let me tell you - and fantasized about Ted's cock. It was a very nice shower. *** I almost missed my appointment with Ted's sister the next day. I'd overslept after another night of interrupted sleep ? the dreams weren't getting any less intense. Karen was certainly an... _active_ lover! I'd gotten my first glimpse of Max, her husband ? she'd left her latest romp with John and come home to him, and he seemed... very cold, distant. I could understand why Karen looked for companionship elsewhere ? there'd been no love in those steel-grey eyes of his... The upshot is, by the time I got out of bed I was already running late. I took a quick shower and changed into my clothes hurriedly before running out to the car and driving off; the whole time I was trying to think of anything _not_ exciting ? I'd woken up with another erection and didn't have the time to _do_ anything about it, and I was more than a little worried I'd make a fool of myself. More of a fool than "going to buy a corset while male" already qualified me for, I mean. Ted's sister turned out to be a nice girl, too. Emilia ? "call me Em" ? was in her mid-twenties, I guessed, with long, straight black hair and an adorably cute smile. She wouldn't have turned heads among my school friends ? she was a little... heavyset isn't the right word, what is it... _zaftig_, that's the word I'm looking for. All the kids I knew did all their panting over rail-thin models, but there was something about Em that appealed to me immediately. She worked out of her apartment, which is how I found myself in her bathroom ? she wanted to see what sort of figure I'd have with the breast forms and the bodyshaper on, so she sent me in to get changed. Taking my clothes off in a strange girl's apartment, what _would_ my parents thing? To think I used to be such a nice boy. It took some time to get myself changed, and I found myself cursing my lack of practice, but finally I could step back and regard myself in Em's mirror. Without clothes on, the illusion was hardly convincing, but I could see where the curves were, how I'd look in women's clothes, and it was a very nice thought. The bodyshaper gave my hips some more width, and the padding made my rump rounder and more curvaceous without being too pronounced; the breast forms were, of course, perfect, a nice C cup. I could have gone bigger, sure, but these ones appealed to me ? and besides, Karen was a C cup. I emerged from the bathroom, and blushed deeply at Em's squeal of delight. "Oh, Kevin, you look _fantastic!_ Hell, you hardly need a corset, I'd _kill_ for your waist, but let's see what we can do, hmm?" There followed an hour of sheer torment. I had no idea how much work went into getting yourself into a proper corset! First one had to be selected ? I finally settled on a red fabric one ? and then it had to be adjusted to fit properly, and then it had to be tightened ? and tightened, and tightened, and tightened! I was having a little bit of difficulty breathing by the time Em pronounced herself satisfied, and for damn sure I wasn't going to be bending my back anytime soon, but she stepped back and beamed at me, turning me towards the mirror, and... well. I could see why she was so pleased. The corset only accentuated the curves that the bodyshaper gave me, narrowing my waist dramatically, bringing out a lovely hourglass figure; the half-cups of the corset pushed my breast forms together and up, and if I didn't know that cleavage was artificial I'd've been drooling over the picture before me. "Oh," I breathed, "Oh goodness..." I stood and stared for a good minute or two. I was _hot!_ "I see you like the effect," Em said with a laugh, stepping up behind me, reaching around my waist to cover my groin with her hand; I hadn't even realized just how hard I was until I felt her hand rubbing over my cock, and I couldn't help but groan softly. "I've always liked my boys to be girls," Em purred in my ear, giving my shaft a little squeeze through the bodyshaper. My vision swam as I moaned again, too caught up to even speak ? especially when she whispered, "You like that, don't you, my pretty girl?" It was like a bolt of lightning down my spine. _She'd called me a girl._ I know, it doesn't sound like much - but it was. As much as Karen was becoming a part of me, part of my mind ? the Kevin part of my mind ? still had trouble accepting the whole idea. _A boy in girl's clothing? What kind of a freak am I becoming?_ While I could ignore that sort of thinking when I was alone, I couldn't quite get over the thought that _other_ people would be repulsed by the dichotomy, but here was a woman who accepted it ? even seemed to be encouraging it. I'll always love Em for that. She started rubbing my shaft through the bodyshaper's fabric, pressing her body to mine as I leaned back, knees gone suddenly weak. "Did you bring clothes?" she whispered in my ear; when I shook my head no, she giggled and asked me, "Shall we go shopping for some after? I don't usually do this, but you're just altogether too _cute_,.." I nodded vigorously, and Em fairly cooed in my ear, rubbing me a little faster... then she was pulling the fabric down, exposing my now rock-hard cock, and moving around me, moving to kneel down before me... As Karen I fantasized about doing exactly this, but now it was me who was getting the blowjob. Em kissed and licked at the head of my cock, grinning up at me, and I couldn't do more than gaze at her in awe and delight as she took the head into her mouth... I moaned, long and low, as her tongue swirled around my head, and then she pulled back, giggling as she asked me, "You like that, hmm, Kevin?" I swallowed, hard, and breathed out, "I do. I do, Em... c-can... can I ask you a favor?" She looked up at me curiously, and I hesitated ? there'd be no turning back after this, I knew that somehow. "can you... can you call me Karen?" Em's smile got wider, and she reached up to pat my padded bottom. "I certainly can, Karen. You're a _very_ pretty girl, you know." And then she was too busy to talk, her mouth covering my shaft, bobbing her head back and forth as I groaned and wriggled. As worked up as I was, it was only a few more moments before I shot my load in her mouth, and she couldn't _quite_ swallow it all, little rivulets of come escaping her lips, rolling down her chin. She stood back up, beaming at me, and before I could react she kissed me full on the mouth. I melted against her, having my first _real_ taste of come, letting her arms encircle me while our tongues danced. The fact that it was _my_ come didn't even seem to matter, it tasted as wonderful as I'd hoped, and I knew that not only was there no turning back, but that I didn't want to. *** I expected Em to want some reciprocation, want me to go down on her or have sex with her, but she didn't seem to feel the need. It was funny ? I got a sense that she liked giving head, but that she wasn't usually a very sexual creature. I expected to know _more_ than that, though ? hadn't there been an exchange of bodily fluids? Wouldn't there be a Link? ? but I didn't feel one starting. I didn't have a sense of Em in my head the way I had a sense of Karen. Maybe, I decided, it was because I hadn't really _taken_ any of her fluids, only _given_ them... At any rate, Em told me to get dressed so we could go clothes shopping. Getting back into my clothes was... tricky. I'd worn slacks and a T- shirt, and while the shirt was doable ? if a lot tighter now thanks to my breasts ? the pants were a lot trickier to get on, what with the wider hips and rump I now had. I finally got them on, and blinked when I saw myself in the mirror ? the clothes were a lot tighter now, and they showed off an absolutely _killer_ figure. Em seemed pretty pleased by the effect too, but still wouldn't let me out the door. "Makeup," she demanded, "I want you looking your best, Karen." How could I resist? I'd brought some makeup in the car, so I ran out to get it, then came in and started applying it; while I was sitting before her makeup table Em came up behind me and caressed my hair. "Do you usually do something with this?" she asked, and I blushed a little. "I like to curl it," I admitted, watching her in the mirror. "I think it looks nicer that way." Em giggled, and walked off, returning moments later with a curling iron. "Well then, let's see what we can do, hmm?" this was how I discovered that Em was a gifted stylist. She'd attended beauty school, she told me while she worked, but she was between jobs at the moment; her corset business was fairly profitable anyway, so she was in no rush. I watched in the mirror as she worked her magic with my hair, and before I knew it my locks were tumbling down in tight ringlets, framing my face and, combined with the makeup, making me completely unrecognizable. I looked just like what I had hoped ? like a pretty girl. Em squealed with delight when I turned to face her, drawing me up to my feet. "You look adorable," she purred, her eyes sparkling. "I'll bet you anything you get stared at." The day before, the very concept would have made me nervous and ashamed; now it made me giggle (seriously, I giggled ? I'd never giggled before) and blush. "Well, I certainly hope so!" Laughing, we headed out on the town. The next several hours were a whirlwind of activity. I ended up the proud owner of several different outfits, as well as a new purse, an entire new supply of makeup, and ? after a quick trip to Victoria's Secret ? a set of terribly sexy lacy red lingerie, complete with thigh- high stockings. Then it was off to the shoe store, where we picked up a very cute pair of red strappy shoes with pyramid heels. "I'd love to see you in stilettos," Em told me with a giggle, "but let's get you some practice first so you don't break your ankles, hmm?" We took the shoes up to the register, giggling ? and suddenly I froze, my heart in my throat. The sales clerk was Andy Renfro ? he and I had had a few classes together, and while we had hardly been close friends, he was at least an acquaintance. God, I was so stupid ? his father _owned_ this store! Surely he'd recognize me! But there was no sign of recognition in his eyes when he looked up at me ? there was interest. He stammered a bit as he told me how much the shoes would cost, and I couldn't resist giving him a slow, sensual smile as I reached into my pocketbook. At the last instant I remembered to use cash, or he might recognize the name on my credit card; feeling Em's amusement rolling off of her in waves, I even let my fingertips brush against his as I handed over the bills, and was rewarded by seeing Andy jump just a bit, color rising to his cheeks. Em and I had a good laugh about that on the way out of the store. I was starting to realize what Karen knew all along ? there's power in sex appeal. It wasn't until I got home that I realized just what a big step I'd taken that day. A lot of crossdressers and transgendered people waited a long time to go out in public 'en femme' ? I'd done some reading online once I realized what was happening to me ? but I'd not hesitated at all. My connection with Karen was a big advantage, I realized; Karen knew she was a sexy woman, and when I let myself be Karen, I knew it too. I worried a little about what this meant for the part of me that was still Kevin, but... that was a silly worry, I decided. _I'm still Kevin, just... Kevin and Karen aren't separate anymore. We're together._ I removed my breast forms but decided to leave the shaper on. Islipped into a nightgown purloined from my mother's wardrobe, brushed out my hair, went down on Mrs. Andrews' borrowed dildo while I played with myself, and went to bed. I was being Karen more and more, and as for Kevin... well, Kevin was still there, but Kevin was less fun than Karen. This didn't worry me much. *** I stretched out in John's bed, purring. I'd worn the poor man out; I could still feel the ache in my thighs from the pounding he'd given me, demanding more and more... I ran my hands over my bared skin luxuriantly. I was spending the day in his apartment, while he was at work. John was truly a skilled lover, but honestly I was getting a little bored with him. He was _great_ in bed ? and on the floor, and on the living room table, and in the shower, and in his car, for that matter ? but... well, he wasn't much use above the waist. It would be nice to have someone to _talk_ to sometimes... That's why I'd married Max, after all. Well, that and his substantial bank account. Still... Max might be useless in bed, but he was a nice enough man, maybe... The bang of the opening door startled me out of my thoughts, and I sat up, goosebumps spreading over my skin. What ? Max rushed in, and before I could say anything, he threw something on the bed. Photographs. Photographs of John and I. I looked up, opened my mouth to speak, but the words died in my throat. The look of pain and anguish on his face was heartbreaking. I'd never meant... I didn't know I'd hurt him so much. I almost didn't notice the gun. *** I slept for three days. To say the dream was a life-changing experience would be to dramatically understate matters. That's why there was no resistance to the Link, why Karen's entire personality came through ? I wasn't reading her mind, I was seeing her memories. That's why the desire to _be_ her was so strong ? because she died unfulfilled. She felt guilty for hurting Max, she wanted... her last thought before dying was that she wanted to tell him she was sorry. He'd shot her before she ever had the chance. And that desire came through the Link, made _me_ want it even before I consciously realized it. I was in over my head. This was too much for me to handle. I couldn't be Karen right now, not even as a fantasy. I had to be Kevin, I had to figure out what the hell was going on in my own head before I could address... what had happened. Karen's clothes went in my closet, along with the corset, the makeup, all of it. I wanted to put them on ? I wanted it so bad I could taste it ? but I couldn't. Not until I talked to Dad. The next five days were the longest of my life. I didn't leave the house, just stayed inside and sat in front of the computer, doing research. Karen Sinclair had vanished two years ago, I learned. No one had ever been charged; as far as the police were concerned she was a missing person, not a murder victim. Maxwell Sinclair was still legally married to her. John, whose last name was Richardsen, had died last year of a drug overdose. No word of the affair had ever made it to the papers. God. What had I gotten myself into? When my parents got home I think they were shocked by how happy I was to see them. *** Dad, to his credit, took the news a lot more calmly than I'd expected. I told him everything ? even the dressing and the sexual urges. We were in what he called his 'office,' a small study off of the garage where he kept his technical manuals and drafting board and whatnot. It had been over a minute since I last spoke, finishing the story; he opened up the mini-fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer. One of them he passed to me. "Yes," he told me, "I know you're only eighteen. But you look like you could use this pretty badly. Drink." We drank in silence for a little bit. Dad looked thoughtful ? not repulsed, not dismayed, just thoughtful. I loved him for that. "Okay," he told me finally, "there's good and there's bad in this. The good news is, from the way you're describing it, it sounds like once you help Karen find some closure, she'll... she won't fade, per se, but she'll be more controllable, more... you'll be able to decide just how much of her personality you want to keep." "So I could stop feeling like I need to be her?" "Exactly. You _could_ still be her if you wanted ? but if you do, give me time to break the news to your mother gently, okay? She knows about our heritage but it would still be a lot for her to take." Dad chuckled, had a swig of beer. I was astonished. "So you're not... freaked out? Angry?" "Son," he told me with a chuckle, "I've got the same blood in my veins as you have in yours. I understand all too well what it's like to want to embrace a new personality. A lot of us go through what you're going through. Some decide to transition, some don't. Don't tell your mother, but your Great-Aunt Jenny? She was born your Great-Uncle Frank. You'll still be my child, and I'll still love you." I couldn't help it. I broke down and started crying. I cannot tell you just how grateful I was to my father that day; I had been terrified that he would judge me, that he would be upset or angry, that he wouldn't want me anymore, that he'd think I was a freak. This calm acceptance, this unconditional love... I know not everyone is so lucky. I know so many people's parents judge them and cast them out and make them miserable. I know exactly how lucky I am. I hope, gentle reader, that you get that lucky. After a lot of crying and a lot of hugging, I finally recovered enough to ask, sniffling, "What's the... what's the bad?" "Well," Dad told me, "a Blood Link is... it's so powerful that it overshadows every other Link you might ever have. That's why becoming someone's 'blood brother' was such a big deal in many ancient cultures. You might... get a sense of someone, an intuition, but you'll never again know their innermost mind." Which made things clearer, of course. I'd gotten a sense of Em, what she liked, who she was, when she'd gone down on me but I hadn't seen into her soul; I'd thought that it was because I hadn't really exchanged fluids with her, but Dad explained that saliva 'counts' as a bodily fluid, that getting a blowjob usually established a Link. The real reason I hadn't gotten a stronger vision of her mind is because the Blood Link overshadowed it. A part of me ? Karen ? was overjoyed by this news. After all, it meant that there was no real reason to avoid sex ? if I got lucky and managed to suck someone's cock or even get fucked, I'd know more about who they were and maybe even what they liked in bed (making round two even better!), but I wouldn't learn so much about them that I'd be uncomfortable, or that they would be freaked out by my sudden knowledge. I could have casual sex! ...I didn't mention that to Dad. There are limits to parental understanding. *** It took me a week to steel my courage. I called Em, who agreed to meet me at her place and help me get dressed up. When she opened the door she was smiling, looking playful, but her expression changed as she saw the look on my face. "You're doing... whatever this is for, it's something serious, isn't it?" she asked me, her voice gone suddenly serious. I nodded, grateful for her understanding. "Okay," she told me, "I won't push. Just... promise me you'll call me after? Just so I know you're okay?" "I promise," I whispered to her, blushing a little. "I'm sorry, I just..." "Don't," she interrupted. "You don't have to apologize. We might just be getting to know one another, but I like you and I think of you as a friend. I'll help if I can. Besides," and she smiled suddenly, giggling, "if things work out okay I want to invite you to my Halloween party." We hugged, and I changed. It was nice to have a friend. *** I gave myself one last look in the mirror in the hotel lobby. The hair coloring had worked beautifully, making my dark blonde locks a rich shade of auburn. I was wearing a cream-colored blouse and a knee-length red skirt, with my strappy red shoes adding a bit to my height and giving my hips a sway when I walked. My makeup was perfect. I didn't look exactly like Karen, it had to be admitted ? the shape of my face was a bit different ? but I looked as much like her as I could manage. It would be enough to fool most people. The hotel was home to a celebratory banquet for Drakewell Partners LLC, the advertising company that Maxwell Sinclair worked for. He was here, or would be for a few more minutes at least ? the event was drawing to a close as I got there. Just as I'd hoped. People started filtering into the lobby from the hallway, and I guessed the banquet had come to an end, so I slipped back out of the lobby and into the parking lot. There were a few double-takes from people I knew to be Max's coworkers ? probably thinking they'd seen a ghost! ? but I made it outside without incident, and found Max's car, a silver Jaguar. I waited. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him step outside. Max had always had a certain look to him, I knew, that had attracted Karen ? but I hadn't been prepared to see him in the flesh. His hair was prematurely gray, but that only seemed to give him a more regal bearing; his suit was tailored and fit his lithe body impeccably. Some older men are just plain sexy, they've got some ineffable quality to them. Sean Connery springs to mind, for instance. Max? Max had that quality. The pace of his walk slowed as he approached his car and spotted me, and he stopped after a few more steps. "Who...?" "Hello, Max," I said to him, my voice subtly changed, a husky, smoky sort of tone. Karen's voice. He went white as a sheet, and I moved to the passenger door of his car. "I'll explain everything. Take me for a ride, won't you?" I think he was too stunned to realize that he could have just driven away at high speed. He even opened the door for me; he'd always been a gentleman. We drove for at least a block before he could look over and ask, "Who the hell are you and what do you want?" "It's complicated," I said wryly, my mouth twisting into Karen's smile. "But in a way I'm no one you've ever met, and in another way I'm Karen Sinclair. You remember her." "My wife is dead," he growled angrily, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "Oh? And here I thought I was only missing," Karen and I purred. My sense of self was blurring. Max went pale, fear blooming in his eyes. "Did John ever figure it out? Probably not. I wasn't with him for the head on his _shoulders,_ after all." "You're dead," he hissed. "I shot you. I _shot_ you. You cheated on me and I shot you and buried you. You _bitch_." The Jaguar's engine purred like a kitten as he shifted gears, buildings shooting past us at fairly disturbing speed. "Oh, I know," Karen/I told him, sadly. "To be honest, I don't... I hurt you terribly, I know that. And I never meant to. But you were never around, Maxie, and a girl's got needs. At first I wanted it to be you, you know." "Shut up." "Jacob O'Neill, he was the first lover I took. You remember Jacob, he worked with you before they transferred him to Cleveland. We didn't last for very long, you know. I think I upset him when I called out your name while he was fucking me." "Shut up!" "After a while I grew out of that, though. I was very angry with you. Here you had this sexy wife at home who just wanted you to fuck her and you were more interested in your work. It hurt me." Karen's voice dropped as I took a breath. "But that was no excuse for hurting you. I just wanted you to know that, is all. That I'm sorry for hurting you." "SHUT UP!" "Still," I told him, Karen's voice fading and replaced with Kevin's, "that's really no excuse." Poor Max almost jumped out of his seat with surprise as the red and blue lights started flashing behind us. What did he expect? He was going sixty miles an hour in a thirty-five mile an hour zone. The police officer was very confused when I interrupted him before he could give Max the speeding ticket by handing him the tape recorder I'd hidden in my purse. *** The police were... confused, to say the least. They had never had a young man dress up as a dead woman in order to bring a murderer to justice ? much less a young man with, as far as they could tell, no connection to the case. I told them a story about noticing an item in the newspaper that I don't think convinced them at all, but since Max broke down and confessed to everything in the interrogation room, they didn't care to look into the matter too deeply. It's a shame I had to tell them about how I was really a boy, though. Some of those cops were _cute_. Later that night I went home and called Em to reassure her that I was okay. Then I spent a long, sleepless night in thought. Dad was right ? I didn't feel the _need_ to be Karen anymore. But did I feel the _desire_? I kind of did. Kevin... Kevin was an introvert, very unsure of himself, not really... _happy_ with himself. All of those times I stopped and looked in the mirror and wished I was someone else, they proved that ? I had just never been able to realize it before now. But Karen? Karen was an extrovert. Karen was happy with herself. Karen looked sexy and knew it, and she didn't care what anyone else thought. She was confident and self-assured. She figured out what she wanted and went after it. The slutty behavior that had worried me, that wasn't self-loathing, that wasn't a weakened will ? it was _desire_. She wanted to know what it was like to be treated like a slut, so she demanded it. And she got it. And in the end she got a kick out of it but wouldn't want to live that way forever. Karen was everything _I_ wanted to be... except... When I was dressed up with Em, she wanted my cock. And you know, I was proud of that cock. Oh, it wasn't enormous, but... I thought about what it would be like if I decided to be Karen full-time. I could get breast implants and take hormones and everything, and a part of me actually kind of dug the idea... but at the same time, I didn't want to get gender reassignment surgery. Finally, I decided I was going at this all wrong. Why not just... be _myself_? I could be Karen without making permanent alterations. I'd start by crossdressing and enjoying myself and maybe someday, down the road... maybe I'd decide to go all the way with it, physically, but for now I still had too much Kevin in me to want to lose him. Maybe one day Kevin would fade away completely, but he was still a part of me, and every bit as important to me as Karen was. I was two people in one. How could I choose one over the other? *** The next week and a half were interesting ones. I explained matters to Dad, and he promised he'd try to ease Mom into the idea. We were both surprised by how readily she accepted it ? turns out she'd always been sad that I never had a sister, and now I sort of did, didn't I? There are few things in life more... bizarre... than hearing your mother say "Oh, Kevin, you don't want that shade of lipstick, it will make you look like a slut." Have I mentioned that I love my folks? Em, as promised, invited me to her Halloween party ? only it wasn't entirely her party. It was being held at Ted's house. I made her swear not to tell him I was coming, and we got together a few times to work out a costume. Finally she told him she was bringing a friend from beauty school that he hadn't met, and so that worked out okay. We also took some time to fool around ? she was very surprised, pleasantly so, by the way that I knew all abo