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Derek felt on edge. It was his first day at St. Calvin, one of the larger high schools in Rhode Island, and he had the nagging vibe that he was ill-equipped. "Now remember, Derek," his mother said as she dropped him off on the curve. "First impressions are everything. Be nice to the girls, don't get in trouble with the boys, and pay attention to your teachers." Derek shouldered his backpack. "Uh-huh," he muttered. "Please, Derek, listen to me this time," she called out as he walked across the lawn towards the main entrance. "You gave me enough headaches while you were in elementary." "I can't help if everybody besides me is a jerk!" Derek yelled back. If his mother replied, the shouts and cries of the other students drowned her out. Derek ascended the stairs, taking deep breaths to ease his nerves. A brand new school, a brand new life, a brand new place to fail. Derek wouldn't exactly call himself a moron, but he could never quite get his head around chemicals or mathematics or all that gritty, scientific stuff. English was more his forte, but nobody was interested in stories anymore, not in this day and age where anyone who isn't a lawyer or a real estate broker was singled out for the scrapheap. His Dad wouldn't have it, his Mom wouldn't have it, and that's why they had shipped him off to St. Calvin's to get a proper education. Derek pulled out a crumpled pamphlet that displayed his schedule for the day: Room 105, Introduction to Biology. Room 201, Math and its Applications in Daily Life. Room 304, Introduction to Advanced Physics. It was enough to make him stick a gun in his mouth. This was going to be a long day. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Now then," Mrs. Reilly said in her high, bird-like voice. "Can someone give me a summary of gastroesophageal reflux disease and its basic symptoms?" Almost every hand in the room shot up. Derek was among the very small minority, in that it was just him and a guy who looked like he suffered from Down syndrome, which did nothing to boost his self-esteem. He felt like Charlie from "Flowers for Algernon" before an operation turned him into one of the smartest men on earth: A handicapped retard who was condemned to envy the geniuses that constantly surrounded him. Derek brooded, the words of the teacher fading away as his attention wavered. If only he was good at sports, then at least he could compensate for his lack of brains. But he was a wimp on the playing ground. All the other kids hated Derek's guts, as if some creepy Darwinian instinct turned them all against his contemptible physical weakness. So what was left? Exile, obviously. Doomed to be stuck in a dreary grey zone between the worlds, freakish and unwanted. He momentarily looked up, and saw a young girl near the front of the class turning her head to look at him. She had long, brown hair tied into a loose bun, and deep, black eyes hidden behind horn-rimmed spectacles. Upon realizing that Derek was looking back, she immediately spun her head back to the teacher. For the first time since entering St. Calvin's, Derek felt his interest piqued. Who was that girl? Was she attracted to him somehow? Derek couldn't remember any time when a girl seemed to be actually drawn to him. Then again, he only hit puberty a couple of years ago, so maybe he just hadn't given himself a chance yet. Feeling a little excited that someone at this school was actually taking notice of him, Derek spent the rest of the class hurriedly jotting down notes, even though he couldn't hope to understand any of his scribbles. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ It was lunchtime, and the cafeteria was packed to the brim with the hustle and bustle of young minds and loud mouths. All of the major groups had settled into their respective circles, some determined by personality, others by class: Jocks at one table, rich kids at another, jokers and internet trolls hogging the center, outcasts in the corner, and so on. But Derek hadn't even settled in with the outcasts. Instead, he had seated himself at a deserted table, away from the other human hives. All he wanted was peace and quiet after a long, painful morning. Derek felt like a square peg shoved into too many round holes, and now he had a headache the size of Texas. Maybe it was time for him to actively consider suicide. He couldn't see any other way out of this predicament. He took a casual glance at his reflection in his spoon. Derek wasn't a unbearably ugly guy, but he couldn't exactly hope to hold a candle to Brad Pitt either. That, coupled with his already awkward social skills, put his chances with the opposite sex somewhere below zero. Well, so be it. He didn't much like girls anyway. He assumed the bespectacled lady who took notice of him back in the classroom was just some weird fluke. As if summoned by his thoughts, that same girl abruptly sat down adjacent from him at the table with her lunch tray. "Hello there," she said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. It took a moment for Derek to recompose himself, after which he had a chance to get a closer look at this girl. Like Derek, she wasn't profoundly unattractive or a runner-up in the Halle Berry Awards for Unimaginable Hotness. Nor did she appear to be wearing any makeup, at least not anything that was meant to make her stand out. She was, for all intents and purposes, a "Plain Jane". And yet...there was something about her, a kind of...comely homeliness, that Derek felt himself drawn to like a magnet. "Uh, hi," he muttered. "Megan Winifred Parrish," the girl identified herself. "You can call me Meg, if you so desire." Not once had she smiled or given any indication of extending a hand of friendship. "Derek Harrigan," Derek said quietly. "Pleased to meet you Derek," Megan said, not looking pleased at all. "I saw you during biology class. I assume you're new at St. Calvin's?" Derek shrugged. "You could say that." He took a glance at Megan's food; peas, carrots, mashed potato. A strictly all-vegetarian dish, in stark contrast to Derek's meat casserole. "Excellent. I hope you enjoy your stay." Megan looked around the cafeteria, as if she were checking for any possible eavesdroppers. "I am what you might call...ahem...'a nerd'." She said the word while making quotation marks with her fingers, making it clear that she didn't think much of the term. Derek couldn't help but chuckle slightly. "No fooling?" "Oh, it's not meant to be an insult," Megan clarified. "It's my official designation. It is a role I have been forcefully relegated to against my will." Derek smirked. "Yeah, I know that feeling..." Megan shook her head. "No, you misunderstand me. I wasn't always 'a nerd'," again she made quotation marks in the air, "and neither was I always a..." She trailed off when someone walked by. Derek frowned. "Always a what?" "Never mind." Megan waved a hand dismissively. "It's not something I can discuss, at least not freely. I only wanted to...give you a warning." Derek almost had to laugh at her phony attempt to weird him out. "A warning? Come on, this is high school. What do I have to worry about besides the usual bunch of bullies and asshole teachers?" Megan leaned forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Stay away from Cindy Myers," she said ominously. "Cindy Myers?" Derek snickered. "The lead cheerleader?" "Don't speak so loudly, idiot!" Megan snapped. She looked around to make sure no one had heard. "She's a dangerous girl for reasons I can't go into here. Just...don't go near her." Derek decided it was a good idea to humor her. "Sure, fine. Whatever you say." Megan sighed with relief. "Good. I'm glad to have that lifted off my conscience." She quickly took her lunch tray and strode back to the 'nerd group' in the cafeteria. Derek stared down at his meat casserole. What the hell had that been all about? ------------------------------------------------------------------------ After the afternoon's schedule of classes had been cleared, Derek caught up with Megan while she was walking across the schoolyard. He noticed she was wearing a bright pink jacket this time. It seemed to be the only article of her clothing that was the slightest bit feminine. "What's up?" he asked cheerfully. Megan regarded him a cocked eyebrow. "By saying 'what's up,', are you hoping to breach beneath my introverted veneer and establish social relations with me?" Derek felt like the wind had been knocked out from his sails. "Well, uh...yeah. Pretty much." "And are you also hoping that said social relations will lead to sexual relations?" she continued with analytical aplomb. "Look," Derek said, starting to get annoyed, "I just wanted to know how you're doing." Megan stopped walking and gave Derek a cold, steely gaze. "Derek, it's important that you're not seen with me." Derek didn't know what to make of this. "Why, exactly?" "Because..." Megan pushed her glasses up her nose. She seemed nervous about something. "Because there's enough of...my kind...at St. Calvin's already." Derek looked around. The schoolyard was almost completely empty of other students, except for a pair of girls who bore a striking resemblance to Megan. Like her, they had plain, unremarkable looks and a dull selection in clothing, while a pair of prominent glasses were perched on each of their noses. They glanced in Derek's direction with expressions that were almost...furtive. Derek rounded on Megan. "Okay, what the hell do you mean, 'your kind'? Do you mean them?" He pointed in the direction of the other girls. Megan didn't follow the direction of Derek's finger, keeping her attention focused on him. "By 'my kind', I meant intellectually advanced females of the same approximate age. So...yes." Derek narrowed his eyes. Now he was getting confused. "Look, I have no clue what you're talking about, but..." "Wow, Meg! Who's your new friend?" A chirpy, bird-like voice interrupted Derek's sentence. He angrily turned around, only to see a stunningly gorgeous vision of teenage beauty walking towards him. Long, golden locks that descended past her shoulders, bright blue eyes that pierced out of a face from some early Renaissance painting, a voluptuous body that would make Pamela Lee Anderson hang herself out of envy. She wore the familiar red-and-white uniform of the school's cheerleading squad, the letters CALVIN HIGH plastered across her t-shirt. The "V" in Calvin and the "I" in High were stretched abnormally large by her formidable breasts. Megan cursed under her breath. "Too late." Derek ogled this girl as she skipped across the grass. "Uh..." He grunted. "I...I don't think we've...met before..." The girl stuck out her hand. "Cindy. Cindy Myers. Pleased to meet ya." After she and Derek had exchanged shakes, she turned her attention to Megan. "So, Meg! 8pm tonight as usual, k?" Megan nodded, looking mildly irritated. "As usual." Derek frowned, his eyes darting back and forth between the two girls. "Hey ladies, no offense, but...is there something going on here I should know about? Or is it none of my business?" Megan released a long, defeated sigh. "Let me put it this way. It's not your business at the moment, but it will be." "Huh?" Cindy hugged Megan close to her, pressing a finger against her lips. "Shhh. We can't ruin the big surprise, now can we?" Megan slowly but firmly extracted herself from Cindy's cuddle. "I've had enough of this idiocy," she said, and for the first time Derek thought he heard anger creeping into her voice. "I'm not exactly complaining about what you did to me, but these childish escapades have got to stop." "Childish escapades?" Cindy giggled, patronizingly squeezing Megan's cheek as if she were a child. "Is that what you call having a little fun?" Derek, starting to feel a little creeped out, took a step back from Cindy. "Fun?" he echoed. "Meg, what's she going on about?" Megan adjusted her spectacles, looking mysteriously embarrassed. "Well, you see, my friend Cindy here is..." "Don't mind her," Cindy said, stepping in front of Megan. "She's just being a party-pooper. Hey, I've got something I'd like you to wear, if it's cool with you." Derek was getting suspicious, no matter what his hormones told him about Cindy. "Something for me to wear?" Much to Derek's amazement, Cindy casually reached between her cleavage and pulled out a pair of spectacles that were almost identical in design to Megan's. It was if she kept those glasses hidden between her knockers for an occasion like this, as flat-out bizarre as it sounded. She handed it over Derek. "My little present," she snickered. Derek looked at the spectacles with a frown. "But...but I don't need glasses..." "Yes you do," Cindy said with a wry little grin. "I just love a man who's not afraid to wear glasses. Why don't you try them on right now and see how they fit?" "Derek, don't put them on," Megan said from behind Cindy. She almost sounded frightened. Cindy leveled a vaguely malevolent gaze at Megan. She lowered her head and pressed her lips together in silence. Cindy turned back to Derek, all the hostility in her face vanishing in the blink of an eye. "So, what are you waiting for? Give 'em a try!" Derek, put off somewhat by Cindy's insistent attitude and Megan's eerie discomfort, decided to call it a night. "Okay," he said, inserting the spectacles into his coat pocket. "I'll...uh...I'll give them a whirl when I get home." Cindy pouted. "But then I won't get to see - " "No, really, it's fine," Derek blurted, as he briskly hurried down the sidewalk. "I'll let you know how they were." Cindy folded her arms and sulked like a spoiled child. "Whatever's the matter, Cindy?" Megan asked, with a slight trace of venom. "Disappointed to have your needs unfulfilled for a change?" Cindy spun around and slapped Megan across the cheek. "Never say that to me again," she scolded. Megan rubbed her face, regarding Cindy coldly. "Yes, ma'am." Cindy skipped across the yard towards her after-school practices. Megan watched her leave, then turned her gaze to Derek, who was just turning a corner. In another moment, he would disappear from view completely. Taking a deep breath, Megan began to follow him from a safe distance. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Once again, Derek arrived home to find the house empty. He found a note stuck to the refrigerator: DEREK YOUR FATHER AND I HAVE GONE OUT FOR DINNER I LEFT SOME SPAGHETTI FOR YOU IN THE MICROWAVE BE BACK AT 10PM LOVE, MOM Derek sighed and warmed up the spaghetti. After he was finished nuking it, he took the steaming-hot plate of pasta into the living room, where he nestled down onto the couch. He searched around for the remote control, with no luck. Dad must have lost it again, he thought. Great, I'll just have to operate the TV manually for the seventh night in a row. Then an idea occurred to him. Lifting up one of the couch pillows, he found the remote tucked away with pennies, lint, and other miscellaneous objects that fell out of people's pockets. He took the remote and sat down on the couch with a satisfied grunt. Derek switched on the TV and began flipping through channels. He came across an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie and put the remote aside before digging into his spaghetti. He was halfway through his dinner when he suddenly remembered the spectacles Cindy had given him. He pulled them out of his jacket and took a closer look. Why the hell would somebody like Cindy keep a pair of glasses to herself? He mused. Come to think of it, why would she keep them in such an intensely weird place as her own bosom? Then he caught sight of something reflected inside the lens. He squinted his eyes, first thinking it was some kind of trick of the lights. Upon seeing it more closely, Derek uttered a "What the fuck?!" and bolted upright, almost spilling the plate of spaghetti all over his mother's fine rug. He raised the glasses higher into the air, staring at them in disbelief. Inside the lenses was the transparent image of a dancing naked girl who bore a stunning resemblance to Megan, right down to the pair of spectacles perched on her nose. Or maybe 'dancing' wasn't exactly the right word; her movements were awkward and poorly choreographed, as if she was crudely imitating a seductive samba rather than actually investing her heart into it. Nor was her body overtly spectacular. And yet, Derek felt inexplicably drawn to this girl the same way he had felt inexplicably drawn to Megan; something about her cold, disinterested movements and swaying breasts seduced him, even aroused him. Derek became enthralled, hypnotized, at the sight of this dancing girl. He slowly, surely, began to raise the glasses to his face. All the sounds of explosions and gunfire from the television had completely receded from his ears. Derek slipped on the glasses; they fit him like a glove. Almost instantly, Derek felt a chill run up and down his spine. At the same time, his clothes began to itch. Then the itching got worse; it felt as if his t-shirt and jeans were eating away the skin from his muscles. Derek tore everything away with hands that moved faster than lightning. Very quickly, Derek was left entirely in the nude, with the one possible exception of the spectacles on his face. There was a vague, indefinable tingling on his skin, much like goosebumps. Derek looked down, and watched with a strangely detached expression as the hair follicles on his arms began to recede into the flesh, while his skin tone skewed from a ruddier male complexion to a softer, paler, more feminine white. "My," he said with casual interest. "How unusual." Derek's entire body made a semi-orgasmic shudder as a completely alien sensation gripped his groin. Peering down, he saw his manhood slowly withering up like a grape in the sun. Derek felt an irrational impulse to grab it, stop the shrinkage somehow, but for some bizarre reason he couldn't bring himself to make the effort. He felt, if anything, placidly serene. Soon the wrinkly knob that used to be his genitals were swallowed by a tiny vertical slit that opened up between his legs. A vagina, Derek mulled to himself. I've grown a vagina. That definitely isn't normal. A sound that bore a distant resemblance to tires being filled with air reached Derek's ears. He twisted his head around to catch a glimpse of his rear end, which was swelling approximately one inch every five seconds. He ran a small hand over one buttock, and found himself nodding with satisfied approval. There was a tight, agonizing pressure underneath Derek's chest, as if two vast pillows had been suddenly stuffed beneath the skin. He grabbed a clump of flesh around each nipple and squeezed, as if he were popping a pimple. He felt something give, and Derek gasped with relief. His flat bosom billowed out between his fingers into two medium-sized breasts. There could be no denying they were breasts; when Derek hopped into the air, they bounced and jiggled with the pliancy of a normal pair of mammary glands. "Hmmm," Derek postulated out loud. "It seems I am a victim of some supernatural catalyst, since obviously there is no conceivable scientific possibility for me to undergo such a complete metamorphosis into a female, and certainly not in such a short period of time..." Derek's musings were interrupted when he felt something touch his bare shoulders. Reaching up a hand, Derek became fascinated at the sensation of hair literally growing between his fingers. He pulled a handful in front of his eyes, and saw that his familiar blonde pigmentation had darkened to a nutmeg-brown. And then, for one alarming second, Derek couldn't breathe, as if an invisible fist was clenching around his throat. He grasped his neck and gasped for air. Was it possible he was having some manner of allergic reaction to his own transformation? Derek tried to swallow the spit in his mouth, and it was if some kind of dam inside his esophagus was forced open. He could breathe again. But something was different now. Running a hand down the front of his throat, Derek realized his Adam's Apple was gone. He had also shrunk. Derek noticed he was now eye-level with the TV screen in front of him, while a few moments ago he would have had to lower his head to watch Mr. Schwarzenegger's explosive escapades. There was a long minute of stillness, and Derek assumed the transfiguration was finished. He glanced down at his features; the B-cup sized breasts, the smooth belly, the small tuft of brown pubic hair, the slim and somewhat bony legs. It was clear he didn't have the sort of grotesque, cartoonishly misshapen figure that men always desired in their companions, but he was personally content with the results. Then it hit him; what about his face? Derek hurried into the hallway and found the large mirror his mother had framed on the wall several weeks ago. The plain, mousy physiognomy that looked back at him, with its slightly overextended nose and shy, puckered lips, was perhaps to be expected. In fact, Derek thought as he leaned in for a closer look, I look quite distinguished overall. Derek rubbed the side of his head, and gradually realized that new levels of knowledge had opened inside his brain that had been previously closed: Mathematics, biology, astronomy, geology, psychology, chemistry, medicine...all of a sudden it was all child's play to him. He could earn two PhDs in the space of a single month, if he set his mind to it. The joy of being the owner of such bounteous data almost made him cry. A knock at the door made him jump slightly. Had his parents come home early? If that were the case, how could he possibly extract himself from this unprecedented predicament? Derek nervously approached the front door and timidly called out, "Who's there?" The sound of his own high, nasally voice was something of a shock. "It's Megan," the person on the other side said. "Judging from your higher-pitched intonation, it's safe to assume that you've put on the glasses. I was hoping to stop you, but I see I'm too late." Derek slowly opened the door, to reveal Megan standing on the doorstep, arms folded. She tilted her head slightly upon seeing him. "I told you to stay away from Cindy Myers," Megan remonstrated. She adjusted her spectacles and looked over Derek's body. "Still, I'd be lying if I said I was displeased with the outcome." "I'm glad that you approve," Derek answered with the same cool, academic disinterest that was characteristic of Megan's voice. "But I for one am more than a little perturbed. A simultaneous alteration of one's gender and personality will do that to you." Megan shrugged. "Nevertheless, your male genitalia was an acceptable trade-off for a highly enhanced I.Q., don't you agree?" Derek sighed. "I suppose I can't deny the logic of that." "Of course not." Megan glanced behind her. "Perhaps I'd best come inside so you can close the door. We wouldn't want your rather immediate nudity to raise any eyebrows among the neighbors, now do we?" Derek held the door open long enough for Megan to enter, then shut it quietly behind her. The pair of them walked into the living room. Megan looked around with an aloof air. "I see you have an interest in Van Gogh," she said, indicating a copy of the painter's 'Starry Night over the Rhone' framed above the TV. "No, I'm afraid not," Derek sighed. "To be honest, I didn't have an interest about half an hour ago. It was my mother who selected that painting to decorate the den." "Well, at least you've been considerably enlightened since then." "Is this really what it's like?" Derek asked hesitantly. "What do you mean?" "You know..." Derek pointed downwards at his vagina. "To be on the other side of the great gender barrier." "I'd never given it much thought," Megan said, sitting down on the couch and kicking back her legs. "Before I was changed, I was a football quarterback. By all rightful expectations, I should have been intensely upset to lose my penis, but I wasn't traumatized at all." "Perhaps it's the accelerated intellectual quotient?" Derek offered. "It might serve to dampen or deactivate entirely the natural response one would have to such a...radical transformation." Megan puzzled Derek's suggestion over. "Yes," she said finally. "That could play a part in it." Derek sat beside Megan. "Now, perhaps you can explain to me what's going on." Megan seemed disappointed to hear this from the newly-transformed Derek. "I thought you would have thought it out yourself. Cindy Myers, as close as I can figure it, is some manner of enchantress, or 'witch', if you'd prefer a more obvious reference. She also has a somewhat...er...offbeat fetish for, quote unquote, 'nerdy' girls." Megan nodded towards Derek's naked form. "As you can now see for yourself. There were already a few such females occupying Calvin High, but not enough to satisfy Cindy. So, applying her magical prowess, she began to transform boys she personally selected into bespectacled prodigies." "And how long has she been performing these clandestine activities?" Derek asked, intrigued. "Two and a half years, give or take. In my case, I made the error of having an affair with her. I abandoned Cindy in favor of a more... 'endowed' woman, shall we say. In retaliation, she transmuted me into what you see before you now." Megan leaned back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I suppose it's not that bad. I definitely prefer my current state to my previous existence as a monosyllabic jock. There's only one real drawback. At 8pm every Friday..." Something inside Megan's jacket rang. She pulled out a cell phone. "Excuse me a moment." Megan pressed the phone to her ear. "Hello. Yes, don't worry, Cindy. I'll be there. Yes, Derek too. Yes, he's just like me now. Are you satisfied? Good. Goodbye." She snapped the cell shut. "Sorry, what was I saying?" "About something we have to do at 8pm every Friday," Derek said, with a concerned frown. "Oh, right. Every Friday at 8pm, all the boys Cindy has 'inducted' are expected to arrive at her house on the dot. We then proceed to have a 'lesbian slumber party', with much waving of pillows and periodic kissing." Megan coughed. "It really is quite embarrassing." Derek's cheeks flared a bright red. "I can imagine." "Well," Megan said, standing up from the couch, "you needn't imagine for much longer. We have half an hour to get to Megan's before she becomes agitated by our absence." Derek chewed absent-mindedly on his fingernail. "I suppose I can leave a note, just to make sure that suspicion isn't aroused in my parents, at least until I can figure out an explanation as to why a more cerebrally- inclined daughter has replaced their former son." Megan nodded in agreement. "We'll also need to devise another name for you, since 'Derek' has obviously become an inappropriate moniker." Derek mulled it over. "How about Denise?" "Why Denise?" Derek shrugged. "No reason, really. It's just the first name that drifted into my head, so to speak." "Hmmm. Perhaps Freud would have had something to say about that." "I feel that Jung would be more appropriate," Derek corrected Megan. "I find Freud to be a little too obsessed with sex to my liking." Megan cast a withering look at Derek. "Before you put those glasses on, you knew almost nothing about Freud." "That's true too." Megan clapped her hands together. "Right then. The first thing we need to do is find you some clothes..." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Whatever you do, don't upset her." "Absolutely not." "If anything, you should be grateful." "I concur." "Nevertheless, don't let Cindy exploit you too much." "I most assuredly won't." The two girls were chatting with one another as they walked up the stairs leading to Cindy's spacious abode. Megan rang the doorbell while Denise adjusted her spectacles. "How do I look?" she asked Megan. Megan looked over Denise with a critical eye. "Acceptable." "Well," Denise sighed, "we did have to improvise somewhat with my mother's wardrobe." Cindy opened the door. She was dressed in bright-pink pajamas with the words I DIG BRAINY CHICKS written out in blazing red font on her chest. "Like, hey guys!" She squeaked. Cindy gave Denise a sly little wink. "Hi, Derek." "Denise." "Right, right." She giggled. "Denise. Well, what are you two waiting for? Come in! We've already got the popcorn ready, and I've got the movie set up to start!" Cindy bounced back into the house as if she were made of jell-o. Denise looked at Megan. "Movie? What movie?" Megan rolled her eyes. "REVENGE OF THE NERDS." THE END