The Katy Nightmare - Part 3 free porn video

My attempts to get a good night's sleep were a complete waste of time. I'd spent the night drifting in and out of consciousness, contemplating everything that had been going on and with the events playing over in my head again and again. The school uniform. The bed. The diary. The homework sheet that clearly wasn't mine. They were all things that I could just write off as cruel pranks individually, or at least try to ignore, but combined were making me fear my life as I know it. Could Katy's story be true? Could I, as she'd sarcastically called me around the corner from my house, be a 'future young lady'? It had sunk in now what she had said, and it had made me very paranoid, scared that I might wake up and find myself in an alien room or body. Every time I'd woken up throughout the night, I'd instinctively patted down my body to make sure that I was still me in the flesh. Eventually, tiredness claimed a victory over me, and I finally succumbed to the demands of sleep properly. A thankfully dreamless sleep followed, until the words of my mother echoed in my ears, bringing me in to the new day. "Tony! Tony! Are you awake?" The words may have woken me up, but all I could pay attention to was the prodding feeling in the side of my rib cage. "Ugh, uh, what?" I replied, half under my breath. The prodding stopped as soon as I responded. I rolled over to face where it had come from, and it was clear that my mother had resorted to poking the bed to try to get me to wake up. I must have slept for quite a while. As I opened my eyes, the unwelcome beaming sunlight caused me to squint. "Honestly Tony, it's nearly dinner time, you can't stay in bed all day." I looked up to my mother towering over me, and I immediately noticed that she was wearing her coat and had her handbag over her shoulder. Her make-up was done, and she also looked to be in a bit of a hurry, at least from her expression. I figured that she was about to go somewhere. I pulled myself to an upright position, my back against the headboard, it still all too noticeable that I was in a single bed with a light pink bed covering, the first reminder of everything of the day. "Yeah, erm, I didn't get to sleep for a while," I noted. "Well you'll mess up your sleeping pattern for next week, so you'll have to get up," my mother replied, concern in her voice. Initially it crossed my mind that it was unusual for my mother to show any concern about my sleeping pattern for University, before I remembered that nothing was usual right now, and so I decided not to question her sudden interest in the issue. "Anyway, I come up to say that I need to go the shops for a bit, will you be ok on your own?" Great. She'd woken me up to ask if I would have any problem with being left in the own house by myself. I'd obviously been left alone countless times before, and it wasn't normal for her to check before going. If anything, I'd normally have to check where she was. "Yeah, umm, I'll be fine," I belatedly answered. "Ok, well call me if anything's wrong, I'll only be a few hours," she said, and turned toward the door. With that, I allowed my mother to leave the room. In a way, it was a relief that she'd spoken to me about something so mundane, based on the last communication with my parents ending up with me being practically forced to do Year 9 school homework. I heard her gently head down the stairs and lay down again, gazing up at my blank ceiling and returning to where my thoughts had left off the previous night. I was trying to not let things get to me, but it was starting to feel like everything was weird now. Even what had just happened, my mother as good as suggesting I shouldn't be left on my own, was completely alien to me and how I'd been spoken to for at least the past five years. Part of me wanted to chase my mother, and ask why they'd both suddenly started to take an interest in parenting me. I even considered demanding if there was some weird plan with this girl that had come in to my life that they were in on. In the end, though, I decided to just wait until I heard her leave, and then get out of bed and see what the day would throw at me. After all, things couldn't get much worse than they had already. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- The first thing I did after getting up was to have a long look at myself in the bathroom mirror, paranoid that the changes around me would have begun to have a visible effect on me overnight, even if I thankfully felt the same physically. I was legitimately scared that I'd have a softer face or look like I had breasts, but luckily, there was no change to the image in front of me. I was still definitely a guy in his early twenties, with stubble on my face and a dishevelled, bed head look to my hair. 'Right, well, as long as I stay like this, I'll be fine', I thought to myself. I decided to make the most of the time on my own to try and get away from all of the creepiness, dressing in a scruffy house outfit of an old pair of jeans and an old t-shirt. I was too scared that the wider world might look at me differently to think about leaving the house. It didn't take me long to figure out what to do with the time on my own. 'Right, it's Saturday, what's on the TV? Ah. Football!' Football was how I spend most of the afternoon, slouched in front of the television watching the Saturday scores programme. I'd spent countless weekends doing the same thing, usually with a slight hangover, but still looking forward to the biggest night of week socially, Saturday night. I knew I wasn't going to be heading anywhere on the evening this week, but this was still me, Tony, doing my usual thing. As long as that was what was happening, all was going to be good, right? It was the best I'd felt in a few days, when after a fair few hours of time to myself, I heard the key of the front door turn. I didn't have enough time to be concerned about it, because I heard my mother's voice as the door crept open, shouting outward from the house in an appreciative tone to a taxi driver who'd dropped her off at the house. "Tony! Come and help me with the shopping!" my mother called loudly, making sure I could hear whether I was downstairs or in my room. I quickly joined her to help. It was immediately clear that my mother had down the weekly shop, with a wide range of supermarket bags dumped by the front door to bring through to the kitchen and unpack. It was the kind of odd job I'd always contributed to in return for living at home rent-free during University. I carried each bag through one-by-one, as my mother chatted away about price increases and the queue at the taxi rank, the sort of small talk that I'd always just nodded in response to or agreed with, far from being able to be less disinterested in the intricacies of the weekend shop. It had always baffled me what the appeal in shopping was for women anyway. Eventually I got to the unpacking, and as I took a loaf of bread from one of the bags and lifted the lid of the bread bin to store it inside, I noticed a letter tucked neatly behind it. "What's this letter behind the bread bin?" I asked socially, interrupting my mother's speech about how the price of some obscure food item had gone up since last week. "Which lette- Oh, erm, it's just from the school," she said. It took a couple of seconds for the reply to register, but once it did, the alarm bells were ringing straight away in my head. After a quick glance to my mother, I grabbed the letter, and decided to examine the contents. It was enclosed in an unsealed envelope, and my heart sank as I saw the crest of Lansley Secondary School, my former school, in the upper-left corner, above the address window, which clearly listed my home address and my mother's name as the targeted recipient. 'Shit' was the main thought that crossed my mind. My mother had got on with the unpacking while I looked at the envelope, acting as if there were nothing unusual about them getting in touch. That said, I didn't know yet that there was anything strange. I tried to tell myself that, and that I'd have not cared about the letter a couple of weeks ago, but I wasn't really listening to my own reason. "Why did my old school send us a letter?" I noticed a slight smirk appear on my mother's face after I'd asked the question, as if I were somehow the one behaving strangely. "It's not your old school, just because you haven't been for a month. But it's nothing special, it's just the arrangements for you going back in on Monday." "What?" I instantly reacted. "It just says to drop you off at reception, and your head of year, erm, I've forgot his name, he's going to meet you there," she explained, half-occupied with re-stocking the fridge. I could barely believe what I was hearing. Me go to school on Monday? I was five years too old for it, and I knew that the head of my year had been a senior teacher that had retired when we'd left. My mother's nonchalant explanation didn't seem believable, and with the smirk I figured it was a joke, and so I decided to read the letter for myself. "Dear Mrs Bradley, I am just writing to confirm the arrangements for your son's return to school on Monday November 14th." 'What the fuck?' I thought initially, my mother noticing that I was reading the letter, and still clearly thinking nothing of it. I read it over again. It definitely said return to school. It definitely had my surname, too. I checked the address again, even though I'd read it before, and it was definitely sent to our house. I continued to read on in disbelief. "If Tony comes to the main reception in time for the start of the school day, I will meet him there. I feel that this will be less daunting than if he were to go straight to form." I skimmed through the rest, noticing a Mr. Bailey had sent it, who I personally couldn't remember from my time there. The person who'd sent it wasn't the big story though, and I didn't really care who that was. I put the letter and envelope down on the kitchen top, and looked to my mother for answers, probably with the outward expression of somebody gobsmacked at the latest bit of gossip. "How am I supposed to go back to school on Monday? This doesn't make sense," I said, trying to make it as clear as possible that it was a weird letter. "Of course you can go back, I'm sure all of your friends will make it easy to settle in again, don't worry," she said, in a tone that was probably supposed to be reassuring. I sighed. My mother noticed, but didn't say anything. Was she going insane, or was it me? I put the letter back in the envelope and dumped it on to the kitchen top, before walking toward the kitchen door. I'd not fully helped finish with the unpacking, but I couldn't stay in the same room with somebody that was adamant that I was going to be at a school two days later. "Tony?" she said. "It'll be alright." Yeah, sure. Pigs would also fly, and the moon would turn purple. I headed upstairs to my room, and planted myself straight on to my bed, every word of what I'd just read and what she'd just said going through my head. I knew that, despite it all, there was no way that I could attend my secondary school again. 21-year-old guys don't do that. Even sixth forms only run until 18 in Britain, and my school didn't have one. It wasn't the impossibility that was the concern, though. It was the fact that it was obviously the next step in this weird thing with this girl, and the fact that it was exactly the kind of letter I'd expect her parents to get and not mine. I spent the next hour analysing it again and again, recalling things I'd not remembered in the heat of the moment in the kitchen. She'd mentioned Monday when I'd last saw her, and the letter mentioned returning to school on Monday. My mother had said it was my current school, and it was her current school. With all of that, and the fact that she'd detailed her creepy plan to swap lives and identities with each other, made me think that the unthinkable was happening. Was I in the middle of turning in to her? Sure. It was a ridiculous thing to ask, and nothing had physically changed with me. Nobody could mistake me for a girl, and I didn't look any younger than my age. Still, though, the thought crossed my mind. That was bad enough. Obviously, or at least to me, it was only her that could give me the answers that I needed. I'd saved her number under 'That Girl' in my phone, not caring to add her name as if she were a friend or someone I knew, and it was my intention to ring it. I grabbed my phone from beside my bed, where it had been since the night before. Navigating to my address book, I looked for her, but found that she simply wasn't there. I looked to her actual name hoping I'd forgot about attaching it to her Facebook account, but there was no luck there either. Likewise, there was no trace in my logs of her ever contacting me. It was like she'd never existed on my phone, that she was a ghost caller. 'Great,' I bluntly thought to myself. I briefly considered the possibility that I'd have no way to reach her, before remembering Facebook, but as I booted up my laptop, and browsed to my profile, I tried typing in Katy to the search box and again got no results. 'Oh, fucking fantastic.' I had realised what had happened by now. If this was all part of some master plan, me contacting her was not part of it, and so she'd disappeared off the face of the planet. After exhausting all of my options, including even my annoying cousin's list of friends, I surrendered to the fact that I wasn't going to be demanding answers off her anytime soon. I walked away from my laptop and collapsed back on to my bed, a place I'd increasingly seemed to spend a lot of my time, a lot like a moping teenager would when they'd been dumped by a girlfriend or been grounded for misbehaviour. For whatever reason, my world seemed to be in transition, my standing being regressed to that of a teenager, even I was still a 21 year old University student physically, and entirely in my own eyes. Eventually, I managed to find at least one silver lining among all of it. 'At least that letter said Tony, and didn't call me a girl'. It was little consolation. I had no idea what to do. I couldn't track this girl down or stop what was happening unless I saw her, and based on our first meeting, there wasn't even a guarantee that I'd have any control over myself if I did. I heavily ran my hands through my quite short hair, and decided that all I could do was wait. I spent the rest of my evening waiting, constantly checking my phone and my Facebook for contact to no avail. As the hours ticked on, I began to realise that I was going to have to go to bed somehow just two days away from apparently being back at school, with all of these unanswered questions and fears on my mind. I sat around my room and had a hard look at myself. Usually I'd have been in the pub or a bar on a Saturday night, or at the least with a good group of friends and socialising. I couldn't remember the last Saturday I'd spent on my own, bundled up in my room, but I was pretty sure it'd had been quite a long time ago and probably because I'd been unwell. I found myself thinking about her as well, and how many people I even knew as young as her. I obviously didn't hang around with teenagers anymore, and having no brothers or sisters, didn't have to put with them in my house. So I could only come up with one. One of my best friends was a guy I'd met through University, a year younger than me, and the second youngest of five or so siblings. I'd been to his house quite a bit, and the youngest sibling was his 12 year old sister, Carly. Carly was small for her age, although didn't necessarily look younger than she was. The sort of girl that, in a few years, would probably compensate for her height with heels. At that age I'd always figured that you couldn't tell the difference between a 9 and a 13 year old anyway, but then I was no expert on the subject, and didn't want to be either. More importantly, though, she was also one of the most annoying people I'd ever had to be around. Despite being young, she always seemed to be awake impossibly late, and would intrude on our card games and sports viewing by trying to chat to us. Not too long ago, I remembered, there had been a party for my friend's birthday, and she'd dressed up for it and joined in with her friends, and after being allowed to have a couple of alcopops had tried to get us to compare her and her friends and say which were cuter. When I'd been that age, I'd always felt patronised by being called a child or even a teenager, and being looked down upon by people of my own age. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, though, I knew exactly what that was. I eventually decided to call it a night to try and get a better night's sleep than the last one, and just before I nodded off, I remembered asking myself a question. 'God, I hope Carly doesn't go to Lansley.' I remembered that she was at a posh Catholic school out of town, before realising what I had just been considering. Why should I care if she attended my old school? The thought managed to trigger a genuine fear in my gut, the most genuine there had been since all of this had come in to my life that Friday evening, that I was losing my identity and my life as I know it I wanted to be me, not some stereotypical teenage girl attending my old school in a school uniform no normal guy would ever dream of wearing. The fear was based on the thought that I might not have any choice in the matter. Could I even stop this? That was my last thought, as I drifted off to sleep. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sunday had started bright and early, a good night's sleep ending at 8AM, and I'd dragged myself out of bed and proceeded to have breakfast, shower, and do anything else that I could do to try and keep myself together. I felt like I was somehow defying some sort of master plan by getting on with the morning as I normally would, even though it were probably more appropriate that I sit in the corner crying or bounce off walls in a state of mass panic at what might be about to happen to me. That wasn't happening, though, and I was even starting to try to convince myself that I had cause to be optimistic. No matter what had happened around me, the mirror when I woke up did not lie. I was far from a 14-year-old girl. The stubble, the boy's hair cut and jawline, the bulge of my crotch in my boxer shorts. I was clearly all guy still, and as long as that were the case, then I could remain calm. Then there was how things were moving. Sure, nothing that was going on was normal, but it was hardly happening suddenly. So it didn't feel like my last day before this whole weird transition were to end. That would give me more time to try to escape it. As morning became afternoon and I lazed around on my bed as I would on any given Sunday, albeit normally because I'd had too much beer and spirits the night before, I realised that while I may have been clutching at straws, I was at least clutching at something now. It wasn't long, though, until the calls of my mother from downstairs brought my thoughts crashing right back down to Earth. "Tony! Have you sorted your stuff out yet," was the ambiguous call that instantly got my attention. I sat up on my bed, and asked the inevitable question in reply. "What stuff?" "Your school stuff, Tony, I asked you to get it back out," she called me back in reply. Maybe I should have known without having to ask. I mentally scratched my head for a moment, before it all clicked just as she spoke again. "I need to know if any of your uniform needs ironing, I know you bundled it in to some bags last month when you started your time off." Shit. Along with everything else that was happening, I was going to have to sort out this girl's school uniform? I had to think of a reply to get out of this. It was one thing dealing with my mother speaking to me with a parenting tone, and a complete other having to deal with all manner of feminine clothing in her presence. That just could not happen. "Erm, I dunno if it needs doing mum," I improvised. ?Well look then! Honestly, you?ve been doing nothing for a month and you can?t even sort your clothes out," she answered bluntly. I sighed and got up off the bed. It was registering all too clearly that she was referring to Katy?s school uniform as my own, and that this was the first time that my parents had crossed some sort of gender line. I opened the doors of my wardrobe angrily, the doors bouncing off their hinges and back, figuring that it was all I could take my frustrations out on right now. I looked down to my feet, and saw the white carrier bags poking out from their location in the back corner, covered by some old t-shirts and jeans. I breathed in heavily and picked up the bags by the handles in one hand, taking them downstairs without trying to catch them in my eye line and kicking the wardrobe doors shut with my heels as I turned. As I eventually reached the kitchen, I saw that my mother had got the ironing board out, and could see some of my ?usual? male clothes in a pile ready to be ironed, which only acted to confuse matters in my mind even more. Before I could reach her and just try to dump the bags, she turned to me and looked apologetic for some reason. ?Look, Tony, I?m sorry," she said. ?What for?? ?For saying you?ve been doing nothing for a month just there, I know it?s not true." I shrugged off the riddle of the apology as she looked at the bags, my mind furiously trying to figure out a way to try and not have to physically handle Katy?s school uniform. Luckily, my mother was about to help me out. ?Just leave the bags here, I?ll sort them out and bring everything back up later," she offered with a smile, presumably as an apology for whatever she?d just been talking about. I took the opportunity with both hands, dumping the bags on top of the ironing board and attempting to walk away immediately, before my mother stopped me in my tracks. ?Oh, Tony, I almost forgot about these. You asked me to get some," she said, grabbing something off the side of the kitchen bench. My mother reached her left arm out toward me, bringing a grey rectangular box in her hand to within my reach. I knew that this was going to be something embarrassing, but I didn?t know just how bad it was going to be. I knew I?d have to take the box from her, and so I reluctantly did, before inwardly sinking even more than I had by having to give her the bags as I quickly realised that she?d handed me something clearly meant for a girl. I examined the box, noticing a transparent plastic frame that exposed an opaque black material inside. A girl in her late teens posed proudly on the right-hand side of the box wearing a white skirt and a pair of leggings. I could probably have guessed the contents from that alone, but the lettering below the plastic pane confirmed my fears, proclaiming that the contents were ?Black leggings with lace, age 15-16?. My mother explained why I?d apparently asked for them, although I didn?t look at her as she did so, instead looking up and down the posing girl several times. ?You said you?d got a hole in your only pair the other week, and I was in that aisle of Tesco, so I figured, why not," she explained. Eventually I looked up and took in her explanation, cringing at the idea that my mother thought I even owned a pair of leggings, and realising yet again that she was speaking in terms of me not just being a teenager, but also being a girl. First the uniform, and now this. Meanwhile, my mother was standing in front of me looking at me. ?Shit, I?m going to have to say thank you or something,? I figured. I had to swallow my pride or have an argument, and being defeated enough already, I figured there was only one option that would allow me to get to my room and bury my head in the sand. ?Thanks, mum," I quietly said. My mother looked satisfied at my response, and so I made my escape, packet of leggings in hand, hearing her begin to empty the bags on to the ironing board as I did so. It was getting to the point where I could write a book filled with just questions and bits of all of this that made no sense. How did my mother know about the uniform in the first place? I was sure she?d never seen it, as I?d concealed it well in my wardrobe. I also couldn?t help but wonder why Katy hadn?t been at school for a month. That wasn?t exactly my biggest worry right now, and any problems that might have caused her to be absent still felt largely inconsequential to me, but it least meant I knew why she?d been able to leave her uniform with me for over a week during the school term. As I reached my room, I realised that I?d barely really considered this girl?s life at all, being so pre-occupied with my own and the effects of this on me. Maybe that was my problem. How could I find a way out this if I didn?t know why she wanted to be someone else, or why she wanted to be me? I threw my latest gift across my room in to a corner, and with Katy on my mind, the view of my desk reminded me of the diary that she had given me. Now was probably the time to consider looking at it as she?d suggested. I opened the drawer that I had dumped it in to, the silver diary was as worn and scuffed as I?d remembered it being. I rubbed my fingers across the cover, catching the little remnants of glue from stickers that been torn from it at some point, figuring from the wear and tear that this could have been one of her most prized possessions for much of her life. I lifted it out of the drawer and thought about reading it, if only because it might contain answers that I needed now, but before I could I noticed a piece of paper that had been under the diary in my drawer. I was certain I?d never seen it before. It was an A5 sheet of paper, probably torn from a notebook, and was covered in all manner of felt tip and gel pen with a note in small, quite feminine handwriting in the middle. I looked around the room as if I were expecting somebody to be there, somebody to have just dumped the note down, before I picked the sheet up to look at it further. The decoration was girly, with love hearts and stars all around the perimeter. The colouring was neat, all within the lines and properly shaded. Clearly a lot of effort had gone in to producing this note, and I was pretty much certain that it was Katy that had made it. In the middle, there were a couple of sentences. The sentences with a message that, somewhere deep in my consciousness, I had probably been dreading and trying to hope wasn?t the end result of all of this. ?It?s a big day tomorrow. Your first day of school as Katy. One more sleep!? I stared at the note for about half a minute. My emotions passed through disbelief and denial, to fear, to feeling like I was about to die. Slowly but surely, what it had told me sunk in, and the weight of everything started to overcome me. ?This can?t be happening, this can?t be happening?, I panicked to myself. I looked around the room, my hand shaking a little now. I?d started to sweat, at least in my face, and I dropped the note out of my grasp, barely noticing as it drifted to the floor and landed beside my left foot, brushing my black sock as it fell. ?I don?t want this, why, why is this happening,? I thought. I listened to the faint sound of my mother ironing downstairs, knowing all too well that she was ironing school uniform meant for me. If this note was right, I?d be supposed to be wearing that tomorrow. ?No, no, I don?t want to be a girl.? Half of my fear was about being a teenager. Half of it was about being a girl. Perhaps more should have been about the girl bit, but it was all something that I wasn?t. It was all the identity of somebody else. ?Stop this! Fucking hell, I?m a guy!? I shouted out loud. I didn?t care if my mother could hear. All I cared about was saving my life, or at least, my life as a guy. I had to act now. It was already Sunday afternoon. On shaky legs and virtually hyperventilating, I turned toward my bed and started to make my way toward it, hoping to compose myself instead of shouting any more and attracting attention. But shortly thereafter, I blacked out. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I regained consciousness eventually, and could instantly feel the soft covers of the single bed in my room, realising that I was lying down with the back of my head resting on the single, light pink pillow. I was certain that I hadn?t made it to my bed when I fainted, but that was going to prove to be the least of my worries. I opened my eyes a little, realising from the shadowy view that I must have been out cold for at least a few hours, and that it must have been at least early evening. I didn?t feel any more refreshed, though, and it didn?t feel like I?d woken up from a state of sleep. It was then that I realised that something was very wrong. My reactionary instinct upon waking up recently had been to feel myself down, to check everything was as it had been before. As I tried to move my left arm to do so, though, nothing happened. It just remained slumped down at my side, on top of the covers of the bed. Trying to get my arm to move, I realised it felt dead. I tried to lift my right arm, to the same lack of effect. I tried to turn, move my legs, get out of bed, or do anything with my body, but I was completely unable to do so. ?Shit, am I paralysed or something?? My eyes shot fully open, staring upward at the ceiling. I could feel that my anatomy was intact, and that I was clothed as before, so I was sure that I was still me. I just seemed to be completely unable to move. Evidently I tried to turn my head, and was relieved when I realised that I could. Given that I could also open and close my eyes, I soon figured that I seemed to only be lifeless from the neck down. I looked around my room as best I could, unable to see much in some shadowy areas due to the lack of light, but satisfied that it at least still was my bedroom. A few moments passed, as I figured out what to do. I recalled the moments before I?d passed out, and how I?d read a note that said I?d be Katy tomorrow and have to go to school. I wanted to panic, as I?d started to then, but my lack of physical ability was stopping me from doing that right now. I sighed inwardly, before realising that my practical state of paralysis from the neck down would be as good a reason as any to call for help. I opened my mouth, and attempted to bellow out a call to my mother or perhaps father, who by now would have been due back from work, but found myself surprised to hear nothing coming out. I tried again, but save for a breathy exhale at the back of my throat and a slight whispy sound from the air between my teeth, nothing was coming out of my mouth. It was like I?d lost my voice, except that there wasn?t even a croak or unintelligible sound. ?Oh, fuck, I?m mute too.? I had been rendered completely helpless. I lifted my head forward as far as I could, my shoulders remaining flat on the bed, and looked forward toward my feet. I could see my t-shirt and jeans, with the bump in the crotch region seeming all the more noticeable in the current circumstances. That, the faint smell of my male deodorant on me, the feeling of my fairly short hair on my head, it was all feeling amplified ten times over right now. With that, I started to feel a mistiness in my eyes. ?Oh shit, no, don?t start to cry,? I told myself. I?d not cried or come close to crying for probably ten years. I?d remembered nearly doing so after splitting up with my first girlfriend, before my friends at the time had cheered me up and made me snap out of it, realising that there were plenty more girls for me to go out with. The feeling of a gentle, single trickle down my cheek broke my decade of resolve. I tightly closed my eyes, trying to quell the physical demonstration of my fears. It didn?t help, instead pushing the moisture out of my eye and sending it down my face toward the corner of my lip, where I could practically taste it. I?d remembered thinking that things couldn?t get any worse than this not too long ago. My mute, unable to move, teary self was proof that it definitely could have done. That was normal compared to this. At that point I heard something in the far corner of my room, the creak of a floorboard perhaps, or somebody making a step somewhere. It may have been my imagination, but I looked forward and around as best I could, praying that nobody was here right now. I attempted to call out, before realising that, right now, I couldn?t do that. I frantically tried to get my body to respond, to get off the bed or at least be able to wipe the solitary tear off my face before someone saw it. As I did, I heard another creaking, as if someone was quietly shuffling about in my room. Then another creak, and another, until eventually I realised that there was definitely someone in my room, standing in the darkness. I couldn?t see who it was, but I had a pretty good idea, and their dark shape fit every characteristic that I?d expect of them. A few moments of noise later, my physical being still completely unresponsive to me save for my head, it became clear that Katy was in my bedroom, lurking in the area around my doorway. I heard a faint click, noticing that the room was beginning to brighten, and was able to watch as she twisted the room?s dimmer switch to fill the room with the maximum amount of light. I was really in the shit right now. I couldn?t defend myself for a start, and if I couldn?t speak, I couldn?t exactly get any message across to her either. I knew that she was probably the cause of my hopeless physical position, and that she was conspiring to take my identity away from me by tomorrow morning. I could only watch as she turned from the door and toward my bed, standing right in front of my vantage point with a fairly plain expression, far from the chirpy, girly one that she?d displayed the previous two times I?d seen her. ?Boo!? My face was scowling at her. I wanted to throw all kinds of profanity at her, but also wanted to beg her to make things go back to how they were. I wanted my ability to move back first, followed by everything else. I wanted her to have never existed. Of course, all I could do was give her a dirty look, as she looked down at me and flashed me a smile. ?Aww, your neck must be hurting a bit, leaning forward like that. Here, I?ll help you to sit up." Unable to resist, she leaned over my legs and grabbed both of my wrists before proceeding to struggle to pull me forward in to an upright position. At first it was a helpless heave on her part, before eventually she just about managed, as I tried again to no avail to get my body to allow me to do something. ?Wow, girls shouldn?t have to do that, you?re heavy," she laughed. I was now sitting on the end of my bed, with her standing over me, my eye level awkwardly not far from being straight at her modest, but nonetheless obvious breasts. She must have noticed this, stepping a few paces back in to the middle of my room, and half-smiling at me. Using the only part of my body that I could, I began to look her up and down. I immediately noticed that she?d dressed differently to the previous two occasions that I had saw her. Although she?d still looked girly then, she?d worn jeans and a quite casual outfit both times. This time, though, she seemed a bit more dressed up, as a girl might if she were going out with friends or generally leaving the house for the day. Her hair and face were the same as the first time I?d met her, and in the added light of my room, I could see the make-up wasn?t heavily layered at all, meaning she was probably a naturally pretty girl, although I still wouldn?t have expected she were ever the centre of attention. She had a black t-shirt on with a phrase in a silver, slightly glittery writing that I chose not to read, figuring it would be cringeworthy and girly in equal measure. The sleeves were very short, leaving her arms fully exposed save for a few thin gold bracelets on her left wrist, noticeably in place of the bobble she?d previously had there. She wasn?t wearing a jacket, although she may have left it downstairs, based on the fact I felt chilly, even in my room. She?d definitely taken her shoes off, her bare feet accentuating just how small they were. I would?ve guessed she had size 3 feet, a complete clash to her above average height for her age. She?d swapped the usual jeans for a denim skirt, in a light, faded colour to above her knee. It seemed to have two pockets at the front, and I could see her phone was in one of the pockets, while she?d chose to place her thumb in the other pocket, her fingers hanging out of the front. Her legs were adorned in black leggings, extending down to her ankles, and I instantly noticed the lace-like trim at the bottom, with a flowery sort of translucent pattern that was noticeably very common on girls of her age, but more importantly, identical to that on the box I?d been given earlier. Just as I began to raise my eyes back to her face, I spotted something about her choice of legwear that made me sink even more than I had already. A hole. Just above her left knee, and difficult for anyone to miss. I would?ve put money on them being her only pair, too. I realised what had happened. I?d been given her replacement pair by my mother earlier in the day. Throughout the time that I?d spent blatantly looking her up and down Katy had stood still, but as I finished and tried to stare her straight in the eye in anger at everything I notice her giggle a little. ?Enjoy checking me out, did you?? she laughed. This was all phenomenal. I was looking at her with an expression of complete contempt, something that would upset or scare most girls of her age, and she almost seemed to be enjoying it. Then again, it was becoming clear, as if it wasn?t already, that there was nothing normal about this girl. Sure, she looked average on the surface and just another teenage girl, but if she had even been responsible for half of this devious, evil situation, then she had to be twisted beyond all repair. Unable to look at her mocking face, I looked down to her bare feet, as she rubbed in my current predicament a little more. ?Have you been crying? Ughhhh," she said, before walking over to me and wiping her hand across my face to wipe off the moisture. My eyes followed her as she walked toward my wardrobe, wishing I could get up and shake her around until she promised to pick somebody else and let me get on with my life. ?Guys don?t cry, unless they?re, like, a child," she continued disapprovingly. I tried to ignore her remarks, knowing all too well that she was right, and watched as she opened my wardrobe doors, then walked to my desk and propped herself up on it, facing me. Her feet brushed against the carpet, and she began to let her legs swing a little bit, opening and closing the hole in the leggings slightly each time. She looked down to the open drawer on my desk with the diary in, and then turned back to me to ask another hard-hitting question. ?Have you read about your new life, then?? Just the reference to it as my new life was bad enough, but having to face the person that the new life was as simply made it worse. I knew I couldn?t protest vocally, so I just lowered my head and shook it from side to side. ?Your loss then," she said bluntly. I probably looked like an ashamed child as I shook my head, and I couldn?t imagine how I?d look right now to my friends. She was defeating my personality, and seemed to have complete authority in all of this, probably with or without my physical limitations at present. ?You know Tony, I love how smoothly this has all gone," she told me. She stopped kicking her legs and looked me up and down. Her expression slowly become serious, one that I?d not seen on the previous occasions that I?d been in her unwanted presence. She?d only ever been sarcastic and mocking or girly and immature. ?So yeah, this all started one month ago. I made a wish, well, sort of made a wish on my birthday that I could be someone else." I watched as Katy sighed lightly a little and looked up to my ceiling, before returning to her previous expression and making eye contact with me to continue her story. ?I didn?t want to be me anymore. Not just because I couldn?t do what I wanted, but things at school, and everything else. Anyway, somehow it turned out that my wish must have been granted." She smiled to herself as she finished her the sentence, before I broke her gaze and looked to my left, unable to believe that all of this was caused by a wish or some other nonsense. ?I kind of wish I?d had some say in who someone else was, but I?ve come to like the idea of being a guy, it?s different." She giggled a bit at it all. She?d left holes in her story bigger than the one in her leggings, and all I?d learnt is that she seemed to have been an angsty teenager on her birthday, and that she hadn?t actually picked me to be a victim to all of this directly after all. ?I thought you?d fight it more, though, but everything went as it was supposed to. It?s been kind of fun to see your reaction to it," she laughed. This was anything but fun for me. I could feel myself welling up a bit again, but perhaps due to her presence, found myself fighting the tears well enough to stop them, and it thankfully didn?t seem like she?d noticed. She motioned to stand up by placing her left foot flat on the floor, before stopping, and pulling herself back up to her position on my desk. ?One thing, though, Tony," she continued, ?I know I made the wish, but try to fit in as me, you?ve got three years of school and your whole life ahead of you after all." I continued to gaze away from her, feeling patronised by the ?whole life ahead of you? comment that I?d heard so often at her age any time I?d been down, as she dealt the final hammer blow to my hopes. ?There?s no going back anyway, so I?ve got to fit in too if I don?t like it," she finished, dropping to her feet and off my desk. No going back. That was the one phrase that I didn?t need to hear. ?We definitely can?t tell anyone about our past anyway. Apparently we?d just end up saying nothing if we tried. Oh, and we can?t contact each other, seeing as we never knew each other anyway. So it?ll be like you were always Katy, you know? Only we?d know the truth." I wanted to scream, swear and shout. Not only was I on a head-first collision with ending up as this girl in front of me, but I couldn?t tell anyone or try to find a way out of it? She turned her attentions back to my wardrobe and stopped speaking, meaning that she?d probably finished with her explanations, even if she?d not given me all of the answers that I needed. So many things were unclear. The logical impossibility of all of this, that hadn?t been explained. Who?d told her what was going to happen or granted this wish, that hadn?t been explained. Even why this whole thing had implicated me, a normal guy, hadn?t even been touched upon. As I begged myself to let me ask such questions, I watched her skim through my clothes, muttering to herself quietly. It crossed my mind that she might be critiquing my outfits, and it instantly freaked me out that she might be standing there tomorrow in my own body picking out my clothes to wear. It was bad enough, the idea that I?d be attending school as a girl, but it was almost just as bad that a girl would have control over my body, and be attending University, speaking to my friends, and living my life as me. Worse still, she?d be enjoying it. As I contemplated the horror of that, I watched her take two items out of my wardrobe in her hands, before turning toward me. ?Ok, before I go and get all excited about tomorrow, I?m gonna help you for your big day," she said. She was now looking straight at me again, holding both of her arms up to show me what she?d picked out. The sight was completely horrifying. In her left hand was a white, cotton item. It took a second or so for me to realise, but the shape made me eventually realise what she had picked out. ?Shit, knickers,? I thought to myself. The item in her right hand was hanging off her middle finger, and she was swinging it around slightly. It didn?t take me any time at all for me to realise that it was a white bra. She placed the knickers on my desk, taking the time to lay them out neatly, before walking closer to me as I stared in disbelief, not caring to hide my reactions from her anymore. ?Ok, so, this goes on like this," she said. I watched as she expertly put her left arm through one of the straps, and quickly did the same with her right. In about three seconds, she?d half put on one of her bras, albeit over her black t-shirt. ?Then, you fasten the back like this," she explained, turning around to show me her back. It was as if I couldn?t look away as she tried to pull the back of the bra together, noticing her fingers placed around clasps on each side, although she appeared to be struggling to fasten it. ?Oh, it won?t fasten over the one I?m wearing now, but you?ll figure it out." She removed the straps from over her arms, and placed it on my desk beside the knickers. ?I guess that?ll be a tight one then, but you might enjoy the feeling," she giggled. I couldn?t imagine anything worse than wearing something as constricting as one of those, or at least as constricting as I managed a bra would be, as I struggled to believe that a girl had just taught me how to put on a bra. She returned to the wardrobe, and picked up an item that I noticed had been folded over the rail. It quickly became clear that it was a pair of black tights. She stood in front of me stretching them, making their width seem impossibly thin, before smoothing them down and placing them on my desk with the other items, dangling over the side. ?Girls can wear socks too, as I?m sure you remember, but I don?t think you?ll have the legs for it." What was probably a self-depreciating comment about her own body was lost on me, as I only took in that she was referring to me as if I, the male in the room, was the one with the legs that would be inside them the next day. I felt my face shudder, knowing my whole body would have too if I could move it. I was having to fight tears now, and watched as I heard the familiar snap of an item being pulled off its hanger, and saw what looked distinctly like the navy blue school jumper being placed on my desk, neatly folded, ready for the next morning. She proceeded to take out other items. A school tie, in the colours of her school, which she placed over the side of the desk alongside the tights, and what looked like a shirt, but was probably a blouse, which she again added to the collection of clothing on my desk. ?The buttons fasten on the other side on that, by the way," she told me while laying down the blouse. It was amazing how cold and business-like Katy had become since starting to get the clothes out, as if she was getting her last responsibilities as a girl out of the way. I knew I?d never be ready to wear any of these items, never mind wear them in public around other actual girls, who?d see the uniform as an usual part of their everyday life. I watched her, my eyes stinging increasingly, as she leaned down to the foot of the wardrobe, took a shoe in her hand, and tossed it aimlessly toward a corner of the room. Another soon followed. She didn?t seem to have much regard for where they ended up, as if she?d kicked them off her feet at the end of the day. She then turned to me, smiled, and turned back to grab one last item. ?Ok, finally, the big one." I knew what was missing. The most emasculating item of all. The thing I?d been fixated on when she?d posted a photo of herself at school on Facebook and tagged me in it. I watched her it from its hanger, before turning and holding the offending piece up for me to look at, grinning as she did so. ?Your skirt." Just like in the photo, it resembled a band of navy material more than an item of clothing. She?d conveniently lowered it down to her waist, and it reached down to above where the denim skirt did. I couldn?t imagine why she or any girl would choose to wear it. ?I never liked wearing this recently, but then I don?t have any navy trousers," she laughed. She walked over to me and smirked at me as she planted the skirt right on my lap. I looked down at it. Obviously it would never have fit on to my much bigger body, but just seeing it there was allowing my mind to imagine myself looking down at a female body, with my thighs and legs actually encased in it. ?Guys like it when girls wear these skirts rather than the flowing ones, it shows off the legs more. It?s why I begged my mother to let me get them this year." I hadn?t even considered that girls of her age dated guys, and having no attraction to the male sex, I didn?t want to begin now. Unsurprisingly, though, Katy was going to make that impossible. ?I think my ex liked it, anyway. Martin, you?ll probably meet him and get all sensitive around him." She giggled at the idea, before picking the skirt up off my lap and carrying it over to the desk. ?Well, you could be a lezzer I suppose," she added, shrugging a bit. My resolve was broken now. I?d tried not to properly start blubbering in front of her, but a tear started to move down my face again, heavier than the one that had earlier on. I couldn?t stop myself from crying anymore. She closed my wardrobe door with her bare foot, before walking back to me. I tried to look down away from her to stop her from noticing, but she didn?t seem interested either way. I felt her place both palms of her hands just below my neck, and the force of her pushing me, as I fell back toward a laying position. I felt my head eventually hit the pillow, and the tears on my face trickle off in a different direction due to my new disposition. I realised that this might be it. She was probably about to leave. I hadn?t had a chance to protest, to convince her to stop this, or try to make a new wish, or anything. I was about to be left to be doomed to my fate. I lifted my head to switch her, and noticed that the light was starting to dim, as she turned the switch until the room was once more plunged in to complete darkness. As a result, she had become a shadowy figure again. My body still wouldn?t respond. I tried to get it to, and tried to shout or do anything to stop her from leaving, but as I failed again, I heard the door opening and an amount of light from elsewhere in the house coming through my doorway. I saw her turn in the shadows to look at me, and then heard her laugh. It was a nasty laugh, one of somebody with no compassion for my situation. I then heard her speak for the last time. ?Have a nice life...? There was a pause, and my door started to close a little. ?...Katy." I heard my door quickly click shut, and the shallow footsteps of her feet moving away from my door, and then down the stairs of the house, and then the faintest of noise at the front door. I still couldn?t move or speak. I could only let her leave. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The tears started to stop after what felt like an eternity, drying on my face and catching the draughts and cold Autumn house air on each damp patch. Eventually, I looked around my room, able to see my desk through the darkness just enough to notice the outline of the tights hanging off its side, and the other clothes sitting, waiting for their use by a teenage girl. I gulped heavily and tried to tell myself that it all couldn?t be happening, that it was a bad dream. I knew that it was all too real, though, and also what I?d been left lying on my bed to do. ?Shit, I?ve been left to fall asleep for the night?. I wasn?t actually in bed, of course, as I was still on my covers and fully clothed, just like when I?d come back around earlier. However, if I couldn?t move, I?d inevitably eventually get tired and fall asleep, especially as I didn?t feel any more refreshed from the time when I?d been passed out. If I feel asleep, I knew that I could wake up to my worst fears. ?I?ve got to not fall asleep,? I told myself. I needed some comfort right now, and after a couple of minutes, I found some. By not falling asleep, I figured, I wouldn?t be able to wake up as Katy. Perhaps instead I would stay as a guy, and completely ruin her wish? It was my best hope, even if a not very good one, and so I proceeded to do everything I could to keep my brain active. Even though I was already tired, I?d done all-nighters before, albeit usually with the help of energy drinks and from an upright position. It went well initially. Going over everything that had just happened and then distracting myself with sports and music, it wasn?t proving too hard. Eventually, though, I felt a yawn or two coming on. I didn?t know what time it was, but a thin strip of light from the gap under my door seemed to indicate that it wasn?t too late, and that at least one of my parents must still be awake. My father would possibly be in bed quite early having returned from his trip away, so if my mother was the only one up, it was unlikely to be later than 11PM. There was an age to go if I was going to keep myself awake all night, and as the minutes wore on, it was becoming more and more impossible to keep my eyes open. My thoughts were beginning to cloud, and my eyes were shutting on me. My head had tilted a little to the side, and my breathing had slowed. My resistance was failing. Would I would wake up as me and be able to get on with my life, or wake up as a 14-year-old girl and a life I?d never wanted or want? As I lost my battle to stay awake, I prayed that it was the first one. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author Notes - Thank you for reading! If I manage to entertain just one person with this story, then it has been worthwhile for me. This wasn?t an easy part to get done, so I?m sorry that it?s taken nearly two months since Part 2 to post. I?ll try to write Part 4 more quickly! :)