YOLO (Chapters 1-5) free porn video

Chapter 1 Same as It Ever Was A sweltering Florida day. Brad Dowdy, Madison High's tight end wiped his brow as perspiration drizzled onto the green Florida grass. Behind him, to the left, was Randy Fernandez, the star quarterback and Brad's best friend. Flanked out wide was Brian Martinez, one of the fastest receivers in the state and the flashiest of the "Fly Brothers." The trio was known for their dazzling air attacks which almost led Madison High to the state championship as juniors. Local papers actually had several nicknames including "The Triplets," and "The Three Amigos." With dark hair and brown eyes, the three looked like they belonged together. It was a blistering August day in Central Florida. But it was really early May. Spring practice had wrapped up weeks before, but the Madison High triplets had work to do. Brian didn't want to be there, but Brad pushed. And once Randy bought in, Brian had no choice. Despite Brian's school records, Brad was becoming Randy's favorite target. Brian couldn't have that. "Hut!" Randy called and the jailbreak was on. As Brian sprinted toward the post, Randy counted to three and threw low ten yards down the middle. Anticipating defenders, he threw the ball low for Brad to sacrifice his body with a diving catch. Sweating through the first heat wave of summer. But it was early May. And the barbaric sun shouldn't have arrived yet. As Brad scraped himself off the turf, Brian grimaced while trotting back to the huddle. "I was open," he said, shaking his head in disapproval as if Randy had cost them the game. "Of course you're open," Randy shot back. It was only the three of them on the high school field. "But it's third down." Brian held the record for the longest touchdown in school history. He also had the second... and the third. But for every 60 yard touchdown he caught, he Brian Martinez dropped two. No throwing to Martinez on third down unless you wanted to punt. Brad on the other hand caught the ball. Always. No matter how hard he would get hit. No matter where Randy placed the ball. "That's it," Brian stated looking at his watch. "One hour. You said practice would last an hour." Brad rolled his eyes as he looked at his quarterback. Sacrifice: the key to personal growth. The key to team accomplishment. You only get one life. Make the most of it. Brad didn't need to say it out loud. Randy understood it through the mental link the best friends had. "We did say one hour, Brad," Randy said in response to what Brad was thinking. Sweating through the first heat wave of summer, the trio did get in some solid work. The barbaric sun shouldn't have arrived by this point in May, but here it was. While Brian obviously didn't want to be here, Randy couldn't judge him too harshly. The flowers in the end zone garden didn't want to be outside either. The three huddled up, each placing a hand in center. "You only live once!" Brad said. Randy followed, "One, two, three..." "YOLO!" they shouted in unison as hands went up and the huddle was broken. YOLO: the mantra of a generation. And more than just a catch phrase, it was a challenge. Since you only live once, you shouldn't be afraid to try new things. In fact, you should embrace them. # # # Brad's mother Sheila rang the doorbell at the Brown family home. The pretty blonde woman in her late thirties had become close with the family ever since Brad started dating their oldest daughter. With three girls, the Browns had triple what Sheila always wanted: a daughter. Along with Allison, who was Brad's age, Jennifer Brown also had girls at 12 and 14. It was the youngest of the girls, Maggie, who opened the door. Like all of the Brown girls, including their mother, Maggie had chestnut hair with red highlights and green eyes. The traits were leftovers from Jennifer's Irish heritage. Maggie's shoulder-length brown locks were tied in pigtails with twin pink ribbons securing and accenting them. In a split second, Sheila took in the preteen's outfit. Maggie wore a white romper with ornate flair around the neckline, sleeves, and leg cuffs. Maggie's lace socks went perfectly with the frills, and her white Mary Janes completed the outfit. She looked up at Sheila, and batted her eyelashes fishing for a compliment. "Well, don't you look pretty!" Sheila said as she emphasized the word "pretty." Maggie's preteen face lit up with a toothy grin. As Maggie seemed to be rolling her head around, Sheila tried to guess what she was showing off. "Oh those ribbons are beautiful," Sheila added, referring to her pigtails. The ribbons were half-an-inch thick with a white lace edging. Adorable. "She's been playing dress up with her friends," Mrs. Brown explained. "We just got Maggie her own mascara and lip gloss." "Oh, honey, your makeup is gorgeous," Sheila continued as Maggie's face lit up again. "Oh, what a precious moment," Sheila said. She remembered how happy she was when her parents started letting her keep her own makeup. Sheila stared at the girl and drifted off into space. She loved the outfit and imagined a blonde girl that age with fair skin and blue eyes wearing it. Then she imagined giving the girl her own makeup to put in her purse as the girl's face lit up. If only. "Well, this is third time," Mrs. Brown said while trying to downplay the event. "But it was a special moment." It was a moment Sheila would never experience. Since the death of her husband, Brad's father, little things that she didn't have were sticking out a bit more. She loved her son and she loved her family enough to give up her own dreams. But with her husband gone and Sheila approaching forty, she wished she could do some of that over. Hearing a girl scream from upstairs, "C'mon, Maggie! Hurry up!" Maggie darted off. It left the two ladies to talk. While Jennifer Brown spent her days running charitable causes and socializing with high-end housewives, Sheila worked. So ever since Sheila's husband died, Mrs. Brown did what she could to help. Today she was introducing Sheila to her social group. Sheila didn't have anywhere near the net worth to join the group, but Jennifer insisted they wanted a real estate agent in their group. Those ladies bought and sold investment properties all the time. It was a great opportunity. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," Sheila said as she followed Jennifer to the living room. "It's nothing," Mrs. Brown said. "You're good people." Sitting on the couch was one of the wealthiest ladies in town: Rose Forrester. The woman in her mid forties was married to one of the biggest real estate moguls in town. Rose "dabbled" in small investment properties as a hobby, buying and selling like a middleman would trade tomatoes. "Rose, this is Sheila Dowdy, the real estate agent I told you about." "Charmed," Mrs. Forrester said. "No, the pleasure is mine," Sheila countered. "I'm looking for a new real estate agent," the socialite said. "I've never had a woman represent me before." "Oh, why's that?" "Because women should be home with their families," Rose continued. "Tell me, Sheila, do you have a family?" An hour later, Sheila walked out of there with a listing, but a little less self-respect. She didn't want to work, especially a sales job. But reality dictated it as she was now the sole bread-winner. But the way Rose Forrester put it, Sheila was a bad wife and mother. What kind of mother was she for running around every night when she should be home with her son? Rose Forrester didn't think very highly of it. And still crushed by the recent loss of her husband, Sheila started to feel the same. # # # Brian put his hands on his knees as the sweltering sun beat on his face. Brad motioned to Randy to start walking to the parking lot. "Gotta lock the press box," Randy said as he tossed a key in the air. Access to the field and the press box after hours wasn't something every student got. "It's open?" Brad asked thinking of the restroom and the refrigerated bottled water. "I'll go with." As the two made their way up the stairs on the Erector Set stadium, the reflective metal made the fiery sun even brighter. "Ow," Randy said as he mistakenly grabbed the metal railing. "That's hot." "Oh yeah?" Brad challenged as he grabbed the rail. "Wow, that is hot," he agreed while not letting go. "Mind over matter," Randy observed, impressed with Brad's sacrifice. When the metal cooled to skin temperature, Brad let go. "Play through the pain," he said. "You only live once." Then, like the superhero Flash, Brian went screaming by. No point trying to catch him as he bolted to the top and slammed the press box door behind him. Making their way to the top, Randy entered with Brad close behind. With Brian nowhere to be seen and the bathroom door closed, the quarterback made a beeline to the fridge. He tossed his friend an ice cold water bottle that hit Brad square on the numbers. With a sky view of campus, they noticed some activity at the school swimming pool. Cheerleaders! Randy opened the desk drawer at the announcers table, tossing Brad some binoculars. As the two checked out the activity by the pool, Brad smiled. Ten cheerleaders, including his girlfriend Allison and Randy's former girlfriend Alexis, were pulling on their cover-ups and primping. Alexis and Allison couldn't be more different. Brad could never figure out why they were such good friends. Like Brad, Alexis came from a very middle class family. The bottle blonde cheerleader had a rockin' bod, but kind of a crater face. She wore a lot of makeup. But the real reason Brad never liked her is that she seemed to concerned with material things. Brad got the impression that she only hung out with Allison to gain access to her stuff. Alexis wasn't that friendly to begin with, but she sure did wave a lot when cruising around in Allison's BMW. And Brad always thought she treated randy more like a prize or a trophy than a real person. Randy would never have stayed with her if she wasn't putting out. And she was certainly using sex to manipulate him. Allison on the other hand was the picture of poise and grace. With the Irish features inherited from her mother, she had beautiful hair, skin and eyes. And like everyone in her family, she was giving. Most girls her age didn't give up their time to feed the homeless or volunteer at the senior center, but Allison did. She was also one of the smartest girls in school. A betting man would say she destined to become a prominent doctor, just like her father. "Even in this heat they're standing there doing their makeup," Brad observed with a laugh. "That's insane," Randy chuckled. "I'll never understand chicks." "Tell me about it," Brad agreed. "Know why you'll never understand chicks?" "You only live once?" Randy said. "YOLO," Brad confirmed. "YOLO." Slam! Sounded the bathroom door, jarring the two form their conversation. "Later losers," Brian said, dashing to towards the entrance to the press box. Slam! He was gone. Though supposedly joking, Brian's statement epitomized Brad's feelings toward the receiver. In fact, that's why Brad hated "The Three Amigos." Maybe they were "The Triplets" because they looked alike and accounted for most of team's offense. Maybe they were "The Fly Brothers" because they were brothers in aerial battle. But they weren't really friends. At least not Brian. "Ready?" Randy asked as he placed his binoculars back in the drawer. "Hang on," Brad replied, making his way to the bathroom. "Gross!" he said aloud as he closed the door. "Brian pissed all over the seat again." The toilet seat was down, and it looked like someone took a urine-filled garden hose and sprayed it all around the toilet. Brad didn't dare touch it to lift it up himself. But he did do his best to hit the toilet. Some unlucky person would have to clean the mess up after everything dried. He finished his business, washed his hands, and descended the stadium stairs with his best friend. As Brad and Randy silently made their way to the parking lot, Brad focused on their mission. He wasn't the most athletic of The Fly Brothers, but he planned to work harder and do anything necessary to help them win. Meanwhile, Randy was going over plays in his head. Even when the two weren't talking, they were thinking the same thing. As Allison walked up to her BMW, she saw Brad and Randy over my Randy's car. She watched as her boyfriend helped the quarterback pull down the ragtop of the Mustang convertible. As Randy drove off, Brad approached his girlfriend who waited with a smile on her face. Since he didn't own a car, she was excited he would be riding home with her. Brad picked up the pace anticipating a hug and a kiss. "Hi, handsome," Allison greeted as she ran up to her boyfriend. She stood face to face... almost... as he was a good head taller. "Hey gorgeous," the tight end replied. Too sweaty to wrap his arms around her, Brad kissed her forehead. "Your mom showing houses?" Brad checked his cellphone. He had two new texts. "Looks that way," he answered. As a newly single parent, Brad's mother found herself working more and more. "Guess I'm on my own." "You're never on your own, Brad," Allison replied. "I'll always be there for you." Brad smiled. Allison always had a way to get his guard down. No need to prove himself around her; she loved him unconditionally. "Is that an invitation?" "It is spaghetti night," Allison replied. "I'm there!" "It's way too hot out here," Allison responded as she opened the driver side door. "Let's go." "Oh, I'm good," Brad said nonchalantly, "I brought my bike." Allison looked across the way. And though she liked to think of herself as not having a temper, she pretty much blew her top. "A motorcycle?" She said as her voice rose and her face turned red. "You rode your motorcycle?" "What's the big deal," Brad replied. Brad had ridden motorcycles most of his life, starting with a dirt-bike in the 4th grade. But ever since his father lost his life riding on the highway, Brad's mother forbid it. The problem was his father put thousands into restoring a classic Indian for Brad's sixteenth birthday. She didn't quite understand why it wouldn't sell for what he put into it, so it sat in the garage. At least she thought it sat in the garage. Unbeknownst to her, Brad was riding it when she wasn't around. And lately, he had become bolder, taking it out for longer and longer times. Today he brought it to football practice. "Life is for living. You only live once you know." "And you only die once, you selfish son of a bitch," Allison replied, shaking. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. And think about your poor mother!" "Relax, Allie," Brad tried to assuage her. "Bikes don't kill people, people do." "Well, then who killed your father?" "Don't go there!" Brad shouted. "That's exactly why I'm riding it. To prove it wasn't his fault." Brad was fighting off tears. "It just happened," he said. "It just happened." "I know it did," Allison said. She tried to compose herself and tried to calm down Brad. "But this is going to be a special summer. Please be there for it." "You mean?" "I love you, Brad," she said. "It's almost time." Those were the words he wanted to hear. Brad thought back to prom night. Brad, Allison, Randy, and Randy's date Alexis shared a limo. Allison dressed in the sexiest dress his teenage eyes had ever seen. It was a kind of a light blue with a touch of green that Allison called Sea Lilly. Allison looked breathtaking. The super short prom dress was strapless with a ruched corset top with sparkly sequins. The skirt flared like popcorn into a taffeta explosion. With three-quarter length opera gloves in the same soft sea lilly and gold strappy high heel sandals, Allison's heavenly outfit was topped with hairband adorned with a silken rose. The outfit was so sexy, Brad wondered how her parents let her leave the house. That's because Brad's mother almost didn't let him out with her. Like any teenage boy, the hope for sex dominated Brad's every thought. And his desire increased tenfold after watching his best friend Randy deflower his girlfriend. It happened one night late after practice. Coach went home and let the quarterback lock up after he showered. Brad, also staying late walked into the showers where he saw Randy deflowering his girlfriend. He watched as Randy's monstrous cock penetrated the girl's hole. It must have been her first time as she screamed when his engorged penis entered her. As Randy rhythmically pounded into her female flesh, Alexis writhed in pleasure, pain, and ecstasy. Brad's loins reacted to the situation as his mind drifted to Allison. He loved her. Were they ever going to take that step? "Okay," Brad conceded. But it was always almost time. "Just help me get it home." "And you won't ride it again?" "Sure." "Promise?" Brad was silent. "Why is this so important to you?" Allison asked. She really didn't understand. He looked at Allison, over at the bike, and down at his feet. Then he spoke. "You only live once, Allison," Brad said with a rebellious smile. "Make the best of every day. Be true to who you are. YOLO." Allison had no response. She opened her car door. "But there's nothing you can do in death. Please don't risk it." Brad climbed on his bike his father fully restored for him: a 1950 Indian. A bike you just don't find any longer. Frame immaculately restored, brought back from a junkyard death. Wheels glass beaded and clear-coated. Brakes rebuilt, with custom drilled rotors and rebuilt calipers. Motor stripped, glass beaded and urethaned. A 55-horsepower motor, new hand controls, and everything rewired. To sum it up, the bike was a head turner. It screamed. Cruising down the road, Brad felt like he was flying. Not flying in a plane... flying like Superman. Even the Florida sun couldn't hurt him as the wind worked like teflon against the heat. It felt like riding on a bullet. The only thing better was sex. And since Brad had yet to experience that sensation, there simply was nothing better. Allison kept her distance as she followed her boyfriend home. Having seen photos from Brad's father's accident riding a similar classic bike, visions of Brad's mangled body flashed through her mind. As cars darted in, out and around him, she hated every moment of the ride home. At traffic lights, pedestrians stopped for a look. Drivers gave a thumbs. With the attention, Brad on the other hand was loving every minute of it. At least that's what he told himself. Approaching one of the busiest intersections in town, the light started to turn. This time, he wasn't going to stop. With almost no weight to the bike, the acceleration was insane. "This is why I ride," Brad shouted as he gunned it. He looked back as Allison applied her brakes. Braking, Allison watched in horror as a fuel tanker turned in front of her boyfriend. But his head was still turned. "YOLO," Brad thought to himself as he turned his head just in time to see his world was ending. And with sparks flying as her boyfriend's body scraped across the pavement, a ball of fire enveloped him like The Human Torch. As Brad said goodbye to everything that was, a part of Allison died inside. Chapter Two--Something's Missing "Doctor! Look! He's awake!" Sheila Dowdy squealed her son opened his eyes for the first time in weeks. "Where am I?" Brad mouthed, barely able to speak. His mother moved closer to the bed and grabbed his hand. Brad stared as his mother's hand engulfed his. What was going on? Brad's mother always like to hold hands with him. Over the past few summers his hands grew to almost twice the size of his mother's. In fact they played a little game where he tried to get both of her hands inside of one of his. Dr. Paul Wasterberg moved closer to the bed and started to explain. "You were in a horrible motorcycle accident 19 days ago. You burned over 90% of your body and your legs had to be amputated. Your waist and some of your organs were completely crushed." Instinctively, Brad dropped his mother's hand and reach desperately for his legs. As he moved his knees upward towards his body they look like they were there. He felt his way down his thighs, felt for his calves and then all the way to his toes. Brad's voice started to come back and he squeaked out, "But they're right here." Brad continued to examine himself looking and rubbing his arms. He was clearly confused by the lack of arm hair and the diminutive size of his biceps that the teen had worked so hard to build. The doctor continued, "Thanks to some wonderful research and a true medical breakthrough, we were able to replace the entire lower half of your body and all of your skin, and even your eyes." "My eyes?" Brad asked, rubbing his hands over his face and his eyesockets. It was then as he brushed the side of his head he know something else. "I'm bald?" "Yes," the doctor answered. "Like I said, we had to replace all of your skin. It's only been a few days since it completed, and seems to have grown successfully over your scalp. Pretty soon you will start sprouting hairs. And Brad, we have to tell you you're a very lucky person to be in the shape you are now. Your eyes were also burned in you would've been completely blind had we not placed your eyeballs. Fortunately for you the ones we have grown in the lab have perfect vision, so you won't have to worry about contact lenses anymore. Brad continued to examine himself, rubbing and squeezing his arms, and staring a million dollars his hands. "But my muscles? Why am I so small?" "Like I was saying, we used a very radical procedure on you. We needed to replace the entire lower half of your body. Jenn Tech Industries has developed a complete replacement body parts, and fortunately they had a lower half available." "But that doesn't answer my question Doctor," Brad repeated. By this time his mother had moved over to the edge of the bed and pulled him close. "Oh honey it's going to be all right," she reassured her son. "Why am I so small?" he asked in high pitched kids voice. The doctor answered. "The only body parts available had only been aged to nine years. You needed the procedures immediately so they age regressed you to a nine-year-old." That news hit Brad like a ton of bricks. The 17-year-old football player and star athlete was now just a child. He had worked so hard and was listed by several recruiting services as a top athlete. Was that all gone now? Would he have to start all over again playing peewee? And these new legs, would there be any way they could be as fast and strong as his real ones? Brad was feeling very confused. On one hand he was told he was lucky to be alive, but on the other hand he felt like he had lost almost everything. "I've lost eight years of my life," Brad said as the reality of the situation hit him. Trying to console him his mother said, "Actually, Hon, you've gained eight years of life. What I wouldn't do to be eight years younger." The doctor chimed in again, "I've never seen anything like what these people do over at Jenn Tech. They say in about three months they'll be able to make you 17 again. So really your only like this for summer." His mother Sheila interjected, "The only thing this might really mess up is your summer romance. But I have a feeling this experience will bring the love you and Allison have for each other to a whole new level." Oh no! Allison! How was a nine-year-old supposed to satisfy the prettiest girl in high school? Allison was a cheerleader and a dancer as well as one of the smartest girls at his high school. On top of that, she was rich. Her father was one of the top heart surgeons in town and needless to say made a killing. And Brad was really hoping they were going to have sex that summer. How was he going to convince her to have sex with a nine-year-old version of himself? Could a nine-year-old even get it up, he began to wonder as his hands moved under the covers. As he reached for his member, Brad felt around what he thought for a moment were his ball sack, as the flesh jutted out independently from each side. What was strange was that flesh seemed open and kind of flapped as he explored one side to the other. Then he ran his fingers over what felt like a slit in his flesh of his balls. As his fingers slightly penetrated the region it felt very sensitive like his penis did, and yet it wasn't. What was going on? "Mom?" he asked, "Am I still hurt down there? I can't feel my penis." "I know, Dear," she answered with a very worrisome look on her face. Then Brad's mother grabbed his forearm and gently guided it above the sheets. "I know." The doctor left the room in Brad's mother continued to bring Brad up to speed on what it happened. She explained that the decision to save Brad's life had to be made so quickly and the only body Jenn Tech had available was the clone of nine-year-old girl that Jenn Tech Industries have grown in their labs. After age regressing him, they replaced his eyes, attached the lower half of his body, and grafted new skin onto him. Jenn Tech took a sample of Brad's DNA and agreed to grow a new lower half of his body. At the end of the summer, his new body parts would be ready and Jenn Tech would swap the female one with his. Unfortunately for Brad, it would mean spending the rest of the summer as nine-year-old with a vagina. Unfortunately for the middle-class family, Brad's treatments were Off the books. Jenn Tech had no license to practice medicine, so health insurance wouldn't pay a dime. Therefore saving Her beloved son cost Sheila almost a million dollars. A million dollars his mother didn't have. Sure, there was insurance money after Brad's father was killed in an eerily similar motorcycle accident a year earlier, but the Dowdy's were living way beyond their means and the mortgage on their house was upside down. . The ride home the next day was mostly quiet as Brad sat in the passenger seat and studied his new appearance in his mom's hand mirror. His face has the same shape it did when he was a kid, but with some mind blowing differences. Brad's skin color was a little lighter and he was bald. In fourth grade Brad had thick brown haircut to make him look like a little man. Now he looked like a children's cancer patient, so he thought. But then there were the eyes. Brad's only flaw as an athlete was he needed glasses, contacts or goggles to read a book or compete in sports. Now he was looking at his own reflection without them clearer than he ever had. "Blue eyes, mom?" he asked her. "I know dear." Sheila answered. "It's not like we had time to custom order your brown eye color. But Professor Chase over at Jenn Tech Industries guarantees you'll have perfect vision for at least 50 years." Brad looked down, studying the clothes he was wearing. A red T-shirt that seemed brand-new and a pair of shorts with a belt loop. He had white socks and white shoes on as well. While he was pretty sure these were boys clothes, there was one thing he couldn't see that he was sure absolutely wasn't. "Panties mom?" he asked in his high-pitched voice. "I can't believe you're making me wear panties." "It's a matter of hygiene honey," his mother responded. " You can wear all the rough-and-tumble clothes you want on the outside, but while you have girl parts you need girl underwear." "Well when we go shopping, I get to pick out all of my clothes." "I'm sorry Hon it's too late for that," she explained. "With his much money as we spent, and knowing that by the start of the school year you'll be back as a 17-year-old boy, I picked up a few basic things this morning. It just doesn't make sense to spend a lot of money on clothes when you're gonna be grown out of them in three months." "Just please promise you didn't buy me a bunch of girly things." "Oh, Brad, stop worrying," she assured him. "You are still my little man." When Brad got home he ran right up the stairs to his bedroom. He looked the same. His sports posters still hung on the wall. His TV was still there and his videogame system was also there. All of the sports trophies mostly in football and baseball adorned his shelves. He opened his closet door in his old clothes still hung on the rack. Exploring a little further he opened his dresser drawers to find his mother could put all of his old clothing away and replace them with items that would fit his new frame. His T-shirt drawer was filled with about 10 shirts, all plain in a variety of colors like deep red, dark blue and green. His shorts drawer had three sets of shorts all with pockets and belt loops. They all zipped in the front. That was a sigh of relief. His pants drawer also appeared to be full of boys pants. A little scared of what you might find, Brad opened his underwear drawer. Inside were several packages of underwear . Though they were absolutely panties, they read "boy cut panties." Seeing the look on her son's face as he examined the panties Sheila walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his smaller body. "I really do want what's best for you Hon." Brad put the package down and hugged her back hard. They embraced a good five minutes until there was a knock at the door. Sheila broke the embrace and headed down the stairs. "Brad! Randy's here to see you," she called. Randy was a star quarterback on the team and entering their senior year had received scholarship offers from major universities across the USA. "How's my number one tight end?" Randy asked as Brad came down to meet him. "Okay I guess," Brad responded. "The doctors promise that by football season I'll be back to my old self." "I sure hope so. I don't know what else I would do on third down." Brad was really relieved to see his friend. "You want to go outside and throw the ball around a bit?" Brad asked his friend. "Like that?" Randy asked him. "The doctor said I had to exercise for at least an hour a day with these new legs. And I'll bet these hands can catch anything you throw my way," Brad answered. The two boys headed outside Brad would run deep and Randy Solomon and him. Brad caught most of what Randy through however when Randy put that extra little something on the ball it was sometimes just too hard for him to catch. But all in all Brad felt that he had something to prove no matter how hard of an impact the ball made on his tiny hands and body. But after a solid two hours the boys decided to call it quits. "Water?" Brad asked Randy. "Yeah, I'm dying," Randy answered. As Brad made a beeline to the front door, Randy took the football over to his car. He picked up his cell phone and pointed towards it and let the word "mom," indicating that he had missed a call. Randy stayed outside a moment as Brad entered the house. "How's your friend doing?" Randy's mom asked him. "He looks really different," Randy explained. "He's bald, his skin's a little bit different, and even his eyes are blue. "Well, he's lucky to be alive and even able to run around," she said. "Mom I don't mean to cut this short but I'm dying of thirst and Brad's getting me some water," Randy replied. After love you goodbyes, he flipped his phone shut and headed for the house. Upon entering the living room, Randy saw a huge glass of water, but Brad was nowhere in sight. He chugged it down in about three-goal and realize he needed to relieve himself. As he opened the bathroom door he was in for quite a shock. Brad was sitting on the toilet he with his shorts and panties down around his ankles. "Oh my God, dude! You're a... you're a chick!" Randy said as he tried to look away and then backed out of the bathroom. A minute later he heard a toilet flush and a sink turn on. Brad came out of the bathroom was an utter sense of embarrassment on his face. "Please don't tell anyone," Brad asked his friend. "Dude! Are you a girl now?" Randy asked him. "No, I'm not a girl!" Brad insisted. "It's just a temporary situation while they grow a custom lower half for me." "That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard," Randy said. It was clear he was very uncomfortable. His longtime friend was now a nine-year-old bald girl. "Well, I'm just glad you're alive." Then, after an uncomfortable silence, he moved towards the door and said, "Mom started dinner early. "Same time tomorrow?" Brad asked. "Uh. Sure. I guess so," Randy answered uncomfortably. And then he was gone. Chapter 3--The Fine Print Brad stood on marble steps as the valet took the car keys from his mother. "Is this Jenn Tech?" Brad asked as he took in the atmosphere. The white stone steps led to pillars of marble set on foundations of gold. That couldn't be real gold, could it? The entire building consisted of polished stone with arch windows. The grandiose building looked like a big hospital... if hospitals were constructed by ancient Romans. "Yes it is, Hon," she answered. "What exactly do they do here?" "They bioengineer beauty products," Sheila explained to her son. "They've made genetic breakthroughs all designed for women. They can actually alter your DNA to change your hair color, your height, weight, and very commonly your breast size." "Can they make me stronger after they change me back?" "I don't know, Dear. They don't do men's things, so it wasn't easy to persuade them to clone of the lower portion of your body." That didn't sound good. "Am I here for a checkup?" Brad asked. "Yes, we're here for that too," she answered. "But the main reason we're here is to see Professor Vivian Chase so she can explain the terms and conditions of your body return." "Terms and conditions?" Brad asked puzzled. "What do you mean terms and conditions?" he asked as they walked through revolving doors. The interior was as grand as the steps. The floors were apple-green marble and the walls were angelic white stone. It must have cost a fortune to build. "May I help you?" The receptionist asked. To say the receptionist was beautiful was an understatement. She may have been Latino or possibly Italian, with long dark hair, and beautiful green eyes. She was wearing a tight green sweater with cap sleeves and a plunging bustline. And boy was she endowed. Sheila spoke up, "We're here to see Professor Chase about my son Brad." "Oh! I'm Marla," the receptionist said. "I heard about you. You must be the young man whose going to spend his summer as a girl." Brad so embarrassed. "No," he attempted to correct her. "I'm going to spend my summer as a little boy," he said with a special emphasis on boy. "But aren't you..." The secretary began to ask "I mean... Don't you have a..." "Yes," Brad said raising his eyebrows in putting his finger to his mouth in an attempt to shush her. "But up here... I'm a boy," he said, pointing to his noggin. "You know," Marla continued. "I sure could picture you with some pretty long hair. I'm sure Professor Chase would hook you up. She did mine, you know," the heart-stopping beauty said. Brad watched as Marla flicked her silky, shiny locks behind her shoulders, tilted her head back, and shook. The hair danced and played for a moment before settling perfectly into place. "Whoa," Brad said as his eyes got as big as saucers. Marla had the prettiest hair he had ever seen. "You should try it, " Marla continued. "You only live once, you know." Seeing what had been done to him and gazing upon the beauty before him made Brad feel very shy and a little bit scared. "Um no thanks," he answered and stared down at his feet. "Well, I'll just take you to the professor now," Marla said and led them down the buildings marble hallway. As Marla Led the Way, Brad watched her hips wiggle under her tight black skirt as her high heels clicked on the marble floor. Though he would've normally gotten very aroused by such a site, in this nine-year-old body he felt nothing. He definitely knew she was an extremely beautiful woman, and he tried hard to feel aroused. But there was nothing. Brad was beginning to feel more alien trapped in this child's body. Soon enough they were in Professor Vivian Chase's office. Professor Chase looked to be a woman of about 35 with untamed red hair that reached just to her shoulders. Though a little frizzy, it also looked shiny, healthy and soft. She was dressed impeccably in a gray pantsuit with a ruffled blouse. Though you would never guess by her appearance, Professor Chase was the brains behind everything that went on at Jenn Tech Industries. "Hi Sheila," the Professor greeted her, "and you must be Brad." "Hi Professor," Brad's mom answered. "Thank you again for everything you've done to save my son's life." "Well, it was the least I could do for one of my favorite former students," the Professor said. A look of puzzlement crossed Brad's face. Professor Chase looked about his mother's age if not younger. Sheila started to explain, "You would never know it Brad dear, but the professor taught me in college almost 20 years ago. I would never reveal her real age, but her looks are the product of her genius." When I was in college she was just getting ready to get patents for some of the products and I helped test some of her first developments. And after I had you, she helped me regain my girlish figure. Brad's mom had always been a looker. His friends all thought she was the hottest mom in the neighborhood which could sometimes get very embarrassing. She had long blonde hair, a perfect figure, and breasts that never seemed to age. She was about 5'10 and certainly could have been a model had she not gotten pregnant with Brad while she was in college. Could Jenn Tech be the secret behind her good looks? Then Brad asked, "Well if you're such good friends, why charge so much to put me back together?" "Unfortunately I needed funding to get this company going," the professor explained. "Our CEO Vincent Russell is a ruthless businessman, and unfortunately he controls way too much around here. The charges are out of my hands." "So are you going to examine me today?" Brad asked. "Yes," Professor Chase started as she handed some papers to both Brad and his mother. "First the terms and conditions. The fact that we are going to grow another lower body for you and let you return the one you have is highly unorthodox. In order to return your merchandise it must be undamaged. By undamaged I mean no major bone breaks, no scarring or deep cuts, or other significant blemishes. Do you understand?" "You mean if I were to have another major accident I would be stuck like this forever?" Brad asked. "Not forever," Professor Chase continued. "You would grow up just like any girl." The gravity of what this woman hit Brad right between the eyes. This could be permanent. Professor Chase continued: "Now your body is now in peak physical shape for a nine-year-old. You must maintain that with good diet and aerobic exercise daily." "That will be no problem," Brad agreed. He was an athlete, you know. "That brings us to skin care," she said looking Brad in the eye. "Your skin absorbs vitamins and radiation from sunlight that is vital to its development. For the first 90 days it is important that your skin is exposed to sunlight an hour a day every day. Again, in order to be returned everything must be in perfect shape. And moisturizing your skin is a must." Brad rolled his eyes. He thought about his mother who was the queen of lotion. She always love to put lotion on Brad and he thought she was always way overboard with it. Now it appears she would have carte blanche to moisturize him every day. "Do you understand and acknowledge these conditions, Bradley?" she asked. "Yes, I understand," he answered. This was not going to be a very fun summer. "Very good," the professor said. "Now I have a deal for you. As your mother has probably explain to you, you, your mother is now in debt to Jenn Tech Industries almost one million dollars." Brad and his mother nodded. "Now we have found that certain things grow very well in a lab environment, while others are hard to get started without a human host. Two of those things we have a hard time with are hair and breasts. Three months is the perfect amount of time for hair to start growing and the pre-buds of perfect breasts to develop." "No way!" Brad insisted. "No way I'm gonna let you give me long hair and boobies!" "Actually we need to start hair growth. So we would implant a new scalp on you much like your own, with only a little bit of peach fuzz. Under normal conditions and 90 days you'll only have two inches of hair. Beautiful long hair can take years to grow out. And as far as 'boobies' go, we're not going to give a nine-year-old girl breasts. All we would do would implant some breast tissue for three months that would be ready to bud." Brad looked at his mother with a fearful look on his 9-year-old face before turning back to the professor. "You promise I won't have boobs." "Not in three months, you won't. We'll remove the tissue which can later be implanted in breast cancer survivors and grown from there. " "I don't think so," was his response. After seeing the ever so beautiful Marla, learning about the Professor's age, and hearing about his mom, Brad wanted nothing to do with more implants from this company. "On page two you'll see a five figure number," the professor stated. "We'll be willing to knock that off of your debt." Brad looked down at the numbers on the page, then the floor. "I don't want to." Then Brad's mother chimed in, "Vivian could you please excuse us for a moment." With that Professor Chase got up and left the room. "Honey, you know I'll probably never get to retire. Please do this for me." "Mom, I'm scared." "Scared of what?" "I think they're going to turn me into a girl..." he protested. This place was really giving him the creeps. "...Forever." "No, they're not, Honey. I've known Vivian for years. She would never do anything to harm me or anybody that I love," his mother explained. She reached over and gave her son a hug. "Now please do this for all of us." Brad reluctantly agreed. "Now I have to run some errands while Vivian starts the procedure," Sheila said as he headed towards the office door. As he opened the magnificent wood doors, a blonde beauty wearing a white lab coat walked in. Before he could protest, Sheila was walking one direction and Brad was walking another. As the click-clack of her heels echoed through the marble labyrinth, Brad studied the woman. Her hair was long, straight, and thick. It cascaded like a waterfall down the middle of her back. Brad was becoming more and more afraid. "Is that Jenn Tech hair you have?" Brad asked the lady. She turned to him and said, "Why yes it is. Do you like it?" And with that shook her head from side to side causing her hair to bounce and play. "Um, yeah," Brad answered apprehensively. Part of him feared he was walking towards his doom as he followed the beauty deep through polished marble corridors. It was part palace and part house of horrors. Soon they came upon a massive double doors next to a sign that read "Laboratory 3." The doors made of a dark wood with heavy brass handles, looked even more overpowering to Brad in his diminutive state. But when the beauty touched the door handle, it seemed to open by itself. As soon as Brad stepped through, the door swung shut with a thump. Then, looking around the room, Brad stopped in his tracks. Brad looked around the room. Marble walls and floors like the rest of Jenn Tech which contained the highest high tech medical equipment. There were huge machines with robotic arms and hands; and some had pieces that looked like they could fire lasers. But that wasn't what had Brad flabbergasted. There were monkeys in cages. And they all had beautiful long human hair! Some were chimpanzees with dark hair. Some were orangutans with red or reddish brown hair. And others were white snow monkeys with long, blonde hair. It looked like a mix between a high tech medical facility and a house of horrors. "Does this surprise you?" "This is unreal," Brad replied. "Without a human head, this is the best way to grow hair. It grows fine on our primate friends, but we only have a sixty-percent success rate when it comes time to transfer to people. That is why having you start a scalp is such a big deal. Human to human scalp transfers have almost a one-hundred-percent success rate." Brad had an eerie feeling. "Remove your clothes," Professor Chase said. "We need to get started." "Everything?" he asked. "Don't get your panties in a wad," she answered. "You can keep your underwear." Brad pulled his shoes and socks off. Then came the shirt. He was so embarrassed. God he didn't want anybody else to see him wearing girls underwear. "I don't have all day you know," the professor said. Reluctantly he pulled his shorts off. "Lilac," she taunted, acknowledging his panties. "Very pretty." Then Professor Chase grabbed Brad by the hand and led him over to the wall. He was told to climb up on what looked like a stool, and was then attached to the silvery metal wall with shackles. Soon his arms were held in place near his hips in a downward V position and his legs were slightly spread. His little heart was pounding. Professor Chase approached him. Brad did his best trying to relax. "So I hear you're an athlete," Professor Chase said to him. "I sure am," Brad said. "I'm hoping to get a scholarship to a smaller school. With what has happened, I need it more than ever." "Did you know I dated a baseball player in college?" she told Brad. "Oh really?" he said only half listening to her as he listened to the sound of the machine whirring over his head. "Baseball was the sport back then," Professor Chase explained. "My boyfriend promised that if I did his schoolwork, he would pay for my education when he made the bigs." "That's nice," Brad said as something landed on his head. It was cool and wet and rubbery and it felt like it was attaching itself to his skull. If she likes football players, maybe this lady was okay after all. "Yeah that's what I thought too," Professor Chase continued. "Until he got drafted. He started running around with every girl in town and dropped me like a hot potato. He broke my heart AND I was buried in student loans." "I'm so sorry," Brad said becoming a little apprehensive again. "That was quite a bit of debt when you are an MD and PhD." "If you are a doctor, why don't people call you Dr. Chase?" Brad asked. "First and foremost, I'm an educator," she explained. "I am on this planet to teach people a lesson." "A lesson?" "You only live once, you know," Professor Chase articulated. "At least most people do. You need to learn everything you possibly can." With Brad shackled to the wall, the professor walked over to one of the monkey cages. As she reached in, Brad twisted to try to see what she was doing. After about two minutes with her hands in the cage, she pulled something out. Brad could see what she had: long brunette hair. "What are you doing?" Brad asked as he struggled with his bonds. He had to get out of here! "Guess." Professor Chase fitted the hair that was on the monkey moments ago onto the protesting Brad as he continued to struggle. The inside of the scalp was warm and tingly and felt like 100 worms digging into his skull. As Professor Chase backed away, Brad felt the scalp lock into place. He bent his head forward slightly and a curtain of shiny brown hair obscured his face. Shaking his head from side to side made things worse, not better. There was hair in his eyes, and in his mouth. "Long hair!" Brad chirped in his high-pitched voice. "You mean my former boyfriend? I did much more than give him long hair," the professor explained. "Not only is he no longer my friend, but he isn't a boy either. "No! I mean me!" Brad squeaked. "You gave me long hair! I knew it! You're turning me into a girl!" "I turned you into a girl when I saved your life," she countered. "And if it were up to me, I'd leave you like this. There's nothing that I like more than to take some macho jerk and turning him into a princess. Lucky for you, your mom and I go back a ways." This gave Brad some relief. "Promise?" "I'm not promising you anything. But the hair that is attached to your scalp is not going to stay there long. It's enzymes are just prepping your skull for the scalp we are going to attach." Brad could only hope she was telling the truth. The professor hit another switch and two laser beams pointed at his nipples were turned on. It was a tingly warm sensation and fortunately did not hurt. "How long is this going to take?" Brad asked. "About two hours," she answered him. "But I'll bet you're dying to see yourself." Before Brad could answer the professor hit another button and a curtain on the opposite wall was told revealing a mirror. What he saw was a little girl with big blue eyes, and shoulder length chestnut brown hair with pretty bangs. As he mouthed the words, "That's not me," the girl in the mirror did the same. "Oh but that is you," Professor Chase countered. "Now I just can't let you sit here staring at yourself naked for the next two hours, can I?" Brad was too scared to answer as the professor reached towards her control panel again. Hitting a button, Brad's entire body from the neck down seemed to disappear and all he could see was his head and his beautiful hair. He looked down to make sure the professor hadn't really made his entire body disappear as a curtain of hair fell into his eyes again. "It's just a hologram," the professor said with a chuckle. "But it sure seems real." Brad lifted his head up and shook it from side to side watching his hair bounce as he worked it out of his line of vision. He tried squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and when he opened them his body was back in the mirror, but it was wearing a dress! It was the kind of dress and girl would wear for Easter Sunday. To top it off, Brad had a matching bow in his hair and was wearing white tights and Mary Jane shoes. "Aren't you adorable?" the professor asked as Brad stared at his reflection in awe. He wasn't sure if it was a compliment or a taunt. "What are you doing to me?" Brad asked. "Just trying to help you adjust," the professor stated. "I told you my mission in life is to teach. Consider this a lesson." "No," he said softly as he looked down to make sure it wasn't real. His hair cascaded down his face once again causing another annoyance. He had to stop looking, he told himself as he shook his head once again working the hair out of his face. He heard a click in the image changed. He was now dressed in a Wonder Woman costume complete with boots and a gold lasso. "You know Brad, your mother loves you very much, but she also always wanted a girl. With all that she has sacrificed for you, Now you have the perfect opportunity to give her dream. Even if it's only for a few months, she would love to have a beautiful daughter that she could dress up and take around town. But you won't do it due to your male pride. That's why guys make me sick." Click. Now he was wearing a Catholic school girls uniform with a white blouse, plaid skirt, and knee-high socks. "I don't want to be a girl," he said. "I'll check back in a while to see if you change your mind," the professor said. "Enjoy the show," she said as she exited the room. Click. Chapter 4--I Think, Therefore I Hover Sitting in his room, Brad was playing video games. Though still pretty good, with his smaller hands and childlike reflexes, he couldn't come near any of his high scores. Then the doorbell rang and he hit pause and made his way down the stairs. His heart was pounding once again as he opened the door wondering what she might think. "Brad!?" The pretty teen girl with a sense of wonderment and jubilation asked, "Is that really you?" "I'm afraid so," he answered in his high-pitched voice, looking up at the girl he used to tower over. At 5'7," Allison was taller than the average girl. That was no problem for 6'3" Brad. But for 4'10" Brad, it sure was. The first thing Allison did was give Brad a big hug. Being almost a foot shorter than his girlfriend made that hug quite a different experience. His head was now buried in her breasts. After a moment, she pushed him away. "Let me look at you," she said, taking a step back. "You look totally different. And I don't just mean your size. Blonde hair? Blue eyes? And even your skin's lighter." "The hair is only temporary," he said reaching his hand up to the blonde peach fuzz on top of his head. "But the eyes and the skin are here to stay. Think you can get used to them?" Allison grabbed his head with both of her hands and looked deeply into his eyes. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, what does the soul look like with a different colored glass? Allison ran her fingers through his silky soft super-short blonde hair. As she looked at this stranger, she imagined herself looking up at the real Brad getting lost in his dark brown eyes and running her fingers through his coarse, dark hair. She was so happy he was alive but was also deeply disappointed. She had really hoped to have sex for the first time this summer, but now that was all out the window. Her boyfriend was neither alive nor dead but trapped in a deep state of limbo. Would he ever be the same? Would he ever be as attractive to her with different skin, different eyes, and different hair? Pulling him tight into another deep embrace she answered to herself, "I don't know, Brad. I don't know." As the hug ended, Allison asked, "Do you have your swimsuit?" "You betcha!" he said and grabbed a small duffel bag near the front door. The two friends made their way quickly down the sidewalk and climbed into Allison's convertible BMW. "So don't keep me in suspense," Allison said wondering. "Which did you choose?" Oh no! There's no way his mom could have talked to Allison about this! "Which what did I choose?" he asked, feigning ignorance and hoping this conversation wasn't going where he thought it was. "Which bathing suit, silly? The boys one or the girls?" she asked. Brad was going to kill his mother. She had tried to convince him that since he was a girl down below, he should wear a bikini top when he laid out. Brad of course was dead set against this and argued that his upper half was still male. Besides, no one was supposed to know about what happened to him down below and if you went walking around in a bikini top that would raise just as many questions. His mother insisted that he and she could get in a lot of trouble with the law if he were out in public running around "topless. "Brad tried to convince her that it wasn't "topless," it was "shirtless," and that no one would take him for being a girl. Sheila put her foot down and said that if child protective services were to pick him up and put this nine-year-old girl child with no identification in foster care, it would be far worse than having to run around in a bikini in front of people who care about him. He thought he had won the argument by saying he would only do it at Allison's parents estate. They had almost 2 acres of waterfront property, a swimming pool, and ten feet tall manicured bushes. It meant Brad could lay out with plenty of privacy. Though he had never witnessed it himself, Allison told him that she and her mother went topless all the time. "I can't believe Mom betrayed me like this." "Like what?" Alison asked sounding very concerned. "I can't believe she told you that I'm a girl down there," he said pointing to his groin. "Betrayed you? She's trying to help you," Allison argued. "Now you have a safe place to lay out for the whole summer without any risk to you. I know it's hard, Brad, but you need all the support you can get right now, and my whole family is here for you." "Your whole family!?!" "Yes, my whole family. What is wrong with you? We're trying to be supportive here," she tried to explain. "My parents say you can come over here any time to enjoy the sun and have some privacy. Now what more could you ask for?" "I could ask for my old body back. I hate this." "I've never seen this side of you," Allison said to him. "You're acting like... like... oh never mind..." She almost slipped and said, "You're acting like a nine-year-old," but fortunately for the both of them she didn't. After a momentary pause she re-asked the question, "So which suit are you wearing?" "I'm wearing a boys Speedo," he answered. "I'm not a girl and I'm not wearing girls clothes," he said defiantly. "My father the transplant surgeon would disagree with you." Brad stared straight ahead at the road and didn't say a word for the rest of the trip. When Brad got to the Brown estate, he went into their pool house and changed. He hated changing clothes especially down into a swimsuit. Every time he pulled his panties off it reminded him of the ultra-humiliation he was enduring. He went out to the pool and pulled up a lawn chair. Allison came out of the house a couple minutes later wearing a lime green polka dot bikini carrying a tray with drinks and a few magazines. Much to Brad's disappointment, she was wearing her top. "All I could find was Cosmo and Teen Beat. You would think with daddy being a doctor and all would have some sports magazines, but all he brings home are business publications for himself and girly stuff for Mom and my sisters." Allison was usually very talkative, but today she was quiet. She kept her head in her magazine but every so often would sneak a glance at her transformed boyfriend. After about 10 minutes, Brad broke the silence. "How do you girls do it?" he asked. "Do what?" Allison asked right back. "Lay out all the time. This is so darn boring." "Well, we read magazines like I'm doing now about stuff like hair and makeup and boys and we talk." "And what do you girls talk about?" "Hair and makeup and boys." "This is going to be a really long summer," Brad said matter of factly. "Yes, it is," Allison thought to herself. "Yes, it is." After one hour that seemed like about five, Brad went back into the guest house, took a quick shower and rubbed lotion all over his new skin. He changed back into his panties and a T-shirt and shorts and had Allison dropped him off at the high school where Randy and Brian were supposed to stay after practice to work on their passing routes. Randy Fernandez of course was their superstar quarterback and Brian Martinez was their deep threat wide receiver. At 5'11", and with coarse brown hair and brown eyes, Brian looked like a slimmer version of Brad before the accident. But Brian was fast, really fast. Although Randy loved the excitement of finding Brian for a bomb, the fleet-footed wide receiver would drop a ball for every one he caught. However, with Randy's incredible throwing arm and Brian's supersonic speed, a completion meant lights out. In fact, the trio of Brad, Brian and Randy were nicknamed The Fly Brothers for the aerial attack that they brought to opponents. As Brad approached, it was Randy who spotted him first. "Hey there Big Guy," Randy shouted. "I mean Little Guy." He paused for a moment. "I Mean Big Little Guy. Or should I call you Little Big Guy?" "Ha ha, Randy," Brad shouted across the field in his kids voice. But it felt good to hear his friend tease him like everything was normal. Randy had a good heart and despite his extreme popularity, didn't let things go to his head. Brian on the other hand was just the opposite. He craved the attention and used every ounce of his star status on campus to his advantage. And boy did he resent Brad. Their freshman year, it was Brian who was strutting his stuff trying to impress Allison. But it was Brad who ran into her one day at the beach and the two got to talking. She actually thought flashy Brian and down to earth Brad were the same person, the perfect man. But Allison stood by Brad, while Brian dated anbody and everybody he could. And when Brian saw Brad, it was a different story. "Whoa! Dude! I don't believe it!" Brian teased. But unlike Randy's it was a bit intimidating. "It looks like science did what opposing defenses couldn't: break up The Fly Brothers." "Yeah, well science has promised to put me back together by the start of the season," Brad responded. "Blonde hair?" Brian said as he messed up the very short tuft of fine hair atop Brad's head. He gave Brad a push that nearly sent him to the ground. "Lighten up," Randy interjected. "He's been through a lot." "Yeah well, the big strong tight end used to always push me around. But I don't think that's going to happen anymore. At least not this summer," Brian said. "I said knock it off," Randy asserted and threw the ball hard at Brian's midsection. He was able to protect his goods but dropped another one. "And why don't you guys run some routes." While Brian continued to run deep routes and was catching about three of every five balls, Brad was staying within about 15 yards. For one thing, his smaller legs just couldn't carry him back and forth as fast and the velocity of a downfield ball hurt his tiny hands and body even more. While he was trying to play through the pain the best he could, at one time he jammed one of his little fingers and let out a high-pitched scream. Randy noticed his friend was struggling but trying as hard as he could to prove he could still do it. So Randy softened his throws towards Brad considerably making the whole workout with the nine-year-old useless as far as practicing goes. Knowing Brad needed to run around for an hour every day as prescribed by his doctors, Randy kept the practice going for the full 65 minutes. "Thanks a lot for everything Randy," Brad said to his friend. "It really was great to get out on the old ball field again." "No problem, Brad," Randy replied. "All things considered, I'm actually quite impressed with what you can do in that little tiny body." "Mind over matter," Brad said pointing at his temple. "And by the way, is the press box open? I gotta go." "Yeah, but will you lock up after you're done?" "No worries," Brad answered as he ran to the stairs. While many times before Brad would simply find a nearby tree when he needed to relieve himself after one of these practice sessions, times were certainly different now that he had girl parts. Unfortunately for him he heard a deep voice shout, "Race you for it," and Brian was running towards the building like a bat out of Hell. Brad couldn't keep up with Brian when he was fully grown. There was no way he could catch him now. As he entered the building, the speedy Brian was leaving. "Catch you around, Pipsqueak," he said as he exited. "See ya," Brad responded. He was glad Brian was gone. While previously, Brad had a few inches and a lot of strength on his rival, times had really changed. God, he hated being so small. And upon opening the bathroom door he felt even smaller. Brian had peed all over the toilet seat. And not only that there was urine around on the floor as well. Gross! He looked around and noticed there was only a little swab of toilet paper and no paper towels. This was awful. As he assessed the situation Brad not only felt smaller in size, but also utterly inconsequential. Brian could've peed anywhere. But Brad on the other hand had to find a toilet to sit on to do his thing and then carefully wipe himself afterwards. And if it wasn't inconvenient enough to pee like this already, with urine all over the toilet and the floor, it was now virtually impossible. Why would this man do this to him? Was Brad not a person, too? All he knew was that he now felt less of one than just a moment before. Carefully studying the situation, Brad contemplated his next move. Could he hold it long enough to get home? Unfortunately, probably not. He was having enough p