Just One Day Of Your Life free porn video

Just One Day of Your Life by Brian [email protected] Chapter One: I had been moved out of my mother's house for two weeks now, and I still couldn't believe it. I had made it! I was Dale Simmons, college man! No more high school, no more curfew, no more cleaning my room or Saturday detentions...it was like I was living in a dream world. I looked out my apartment window over to campus. It was so big, so exciting. I began to fantasize about all the football games I would attend, all the parties I would throw, all the lovely women I would date. God, the next four years would be ecstasy. True, college life wouldn't be all fun and games. Unlike a lot of students, I wanted to graduate with honors. I had taken out a stiff student loan and could not afford to flunk out or barely graduate. I had dreams of becoming a lawyer, and I sure as hell wouldn't get into law school with a 2.3 GPA. "Hey Dale, say cheese!" I turned around to see the one major problem I had with college life. When I first was accepted to this school, I had decided I would rather not live in the crowded dorms and had answered an ad in the 'roommates wanted' section of the paper. The apartment was great: two bedrooms and within walking distance of campus. I should have checked out the roommate more carefully, though. His name was John, and well, he was weird. A tall guy with scraggly hair and an unkempt beard, he certainly wasn't a traditional guy. He was a bassist for an obscure local band and I was constantly subject to a loud stream of 'power chords.' He would laugh insanely at times for no apparent reason. To make things worse, he was a photo-journalism major and was constantly snapping pictures of things around the apartment, including me. Not exactly my dream roommate (that would be Elle MacPhereson), but he was likeable in his own way and I guessed I could tolerate him for a year or so. Click. John snapped a picture of me. I really wasn't in the mood for another photo shoot, so I went over to visit my sister, Jenni. When I arrived at Jenni's dorm, I found her doing what she did most of the time: chatting on the internet. It was a good thing the college offered free internet service, I'd hate to see what her monthly bill would have been otherwise. Now I don't want to give the impression that Jenni was some kind of fat, ugly computer geek who couldn't make friends otherwise. Far from it. Jenni was a college sophomore, sophisticated, funny, and in my opinion, pretty. She was slender, with long black hair, fair skin, and delicate features. If the world was a fair place, she would have been constantly bombarded by guys who wanted to ask her out. Unfortunately, the world is not a fair place. When Jenni was eleven years old, she was in a very bad car accident. She survived, thank God, with no lasting health problems. Unfortunately, her face was very badly burned in the wreck. Now the entire left side of her face was a mass of scar tissue. From that moment on, Jenni went from being a pretty young lady to an introverted, scared young woman. She had never gone to prom, never gone on a date, and never, to my knowledge, kissed a boy. It certainly wasn't her fault; she tried to get dates. It was just that there were few men who were willing to look past the scar tissue to see the wonderful girl inside. Jenni still had a lovely body and, in my opinion, a great personality, but what guy would notice that now? To make matters worse, there was my mother. Back in her day, Mom had been quite the beauty queen. She was won a lot of contests and been a runner up to represent our state in the Miss America pageant. From the moment Jenni was born, mother had began molding Jenni in her own image. When Jenni was six-months-old she took first prize in a beautiful baby contest. She kept right on winning child beauty contests until the accident. That ended her career as a beauty queen. The worst of it was, once Mom realized that the scars were permanent, she cruelly lost all interest in Jenni. It was like she only cared about her when she was pretty and had no interest in a non-perfect daughter. As for me, Mom was never interested in my rough-and-tumble, boyish ways. Jenni and I grew closer, but we both grew apart from Mom. This was why Jenni talked on the computer so much. Through the magic of the internet, Jenni was not the poor, scarred girl. She was a pretty, fun lady who all the guys wanted to get to know. Her personality showed through, it seemed every time I talked to her she was telling me about some new guy who had asked her out. It was too bad that this only worked through the internet; she could obviously never meet any of these guys in person. Jenni had once confided in me that she would have done anything, anything, to meet a special guy. I told her the same tired things: she was beautiful, she would meet someone, any guy would be lucky to have her...but we both knew how empty comments like that seemed. "Hey sis," I called, "you wanna grab a cup of coffee or something?" Jenni seemed embarrassed. "Well, I'm kinda chatting with Steve right now." Ah, Steve. While Jenni had dozens of cyber-admirrers, Steve was apparently something special. She constantly gushed about him, Steve- this, Steve-that. It made me a little sad. Steve lived on the coast, he'd probably never come out this way. Even if he offered to, Jenni would probably refuse. I went off to try to meet some women, leaving Jenni to her romance with Steve. I had no idea at the time how much Steve would end up changing her life...and mine. Two days later a received a frantic phone call from Jenni, asking me to come over to her dorm right away. When I got there, she seemed both excited and terrified. I asked her what was wrong. "I just got this letter from Steve," she replied. "An actual letter? I though you guys only sent e-mail." "Just read it. C'mon!" I took the letter from her and began to read: Dearest Jenni, It was so good to talk to you last night. It seems like my entire day revolves around my conversations with you. You know we're always saying how great it would be to get together? Well, I think I might have found a way! My cousin is getting married on the west coast, and my flight makes a stopover in your city! I've worked something out with the airline so that I can stay there for a whole day for no extra charge. What do you say? Can I come see you, honey? Steve P.S. I just got the pictures you sent me. Wow! I looked back at Jenni. "Pictures?" I asked. "You mean, he knows? Jenni looked away. "Not exactly." She handed me a couple of photos. "I had your roommate, John, take these for me." I looked at the pictures. They were glamour shots of Jenni. She looked even lovelier than she did in her days as a beauty queen. The thing was, all the pictures were shot from the right. From what I could see, it was impossible to tell she was anything but a beautiful woman. I looked at my sister. Before I could say anything, she was interrupted. "Dale, I know what you're thinking. But listen, guys don't want to fly across the country to see a human freak show. They want to see a girl who looks like the one in this picture." "Jenni, he's coming across the country to see you. What you look like shouldn't matter." "But it does matter, Dale. If I sent him a real picture I bet you his flight would be mysteriously rerouted the moment he learned the truth." "So..." how could I put this without sounding cruel? "you're just going to let him find out when he gets here?" "I can't do that either. He says he's in love with me, but I don't know how serious he is. If he was coming three months from now I would know if that love would be enough to love me as is. I just can't tell right now. If he sees me now, that'll be the end of it." "Then you'll have to tell him not to come. Make up an excuse." Jenni sighed. "That's not an option either. Everyday I tell him that meeting him would be the thrill of a lifetime. Now, no matter what I tell him, it will sound like I don't really love him." Don't really love him? She loved him? "Jenni, I can't think of any other options. Either tell him the truth and see if he's man enough to love you for real, or postpone until you are sure of it." Jenni looked nervous. "Actually, Dale, I thought of another way that just might work out." "Really? What's that?" "Have you ever read 'Cyrano de Bergerac?'" "Uh, I saw the movie." "Well Cyrano is a wonderful, loving man. He's in love with Roxanne, but doesn't dare tell her, since he's so ugly. Instead, he writes her poetry, and has a good-looking guy, Christian, pass it off as his own. In the end, Roxanne realizes that she is in love with the poet, not the pretty face." "Yeah, but don't both guys end up getting killed at the end?" Jenni ignored that. "I was thinking, what if I got someone to go on the date in my place? Someone pretty, that Steve would be proud to be seen with. That way, he'll know I want to see him and I'll have a few more months to build him up for this." Jenni pointed to her scars. "I dunno. Seems pretty self-defeating to have another girl go in your place. Who did you have in mind?" Jenni looked my right in the eyes. "You, Dale." "No, seriously." "I am serious. No, listen. If I hadn't sent Steve those pictures then I could have any girl play me. But now, he's expecting someone who could pass as my twin sister." "Jenni, this is ludicrous. I'm not listening." "Dale, please. Give me five minutes to explain." I looked at my watch. "The clock is ticking." "OK. Now you and I look a lot alike. You are slim, you have pale skin, and you'd have nice longish hair if you'd ever comb out those hippie locks of yours. I think that if I dress you in some of my clothes, give you a make over, add a lot of padding, and give you lessons in femininity, you could pass for me for a day. I'll tell Steve that I'd love to see him, but I never feel comfortable kissing on the first date. That way you don't have to worry about that aspect. Steve flies home and in a few months I tell him the truth about me and say that you were just a friend of mine. We all live happily ever after and neither of us bring it up again." "Are you finished?" "Yes." "Then my answer is no. Dress like a woman? Date a guy? Have you lost your frigging mind?" I think I could have withstood almost anything from Jenni: threats, appeals to logic, emotion, family, or whatever. But when she started sobbing, my heart broke. "Please Dale," she said between tears. "Just one day of your life. One lousy, stinking day! You've been on dates. I haven't. You've been kissed, I never have. You know what it's like to be special and I never will. I'm not exaggerating here, Steve might be my one chance at happiness. My one chance! I'm begging you Dale!" I was struck dumb, I'd never seen her this upset. Steve was obviously very special. Jenni wiped away her tears. "Look Dale, I don't expect you to agree to this right now. Tomorrow, why don't I try dressing you up like me in private? If you don't think it will work, well, then I guess I'll just have to face the music." I numbly nodded. Chapter Two: The next day I sullenly sat on my couch. Jenni would be over soon to 'feminize me.' I didn't like the sound of that. John was off playing one of his infrequent gigs so Jenni and I would have the apartment to ourselves. It saddened me how much Jenni was deluding herself. I had looked in the mirror the previous night and came to the conclusion that my passing as a girl was never going to happen. True, I did bear a striking resemblance to my sister, but so what? I was a guy, plain and simple. I hadn't been mistaken for a girl since I was two years old. The only unmasculine thing I could see about myself was a general lack of facial and body hair. Just a couple of sad strands on my chin and some fuzz on my legs. But what of it? Lots of guys don't have facial hair. It would take more than that to make me into Jenni. Jenni knocked at the door and I let her in. She was carrying a huge makeup case and a couple of garment bags. I helped her carry them in. "Well Dale, are you ready? Jeez, you look like you're going to you own execution." "That would be a slightly more welcome experience," I grunted. Jenni looked at me sternly. "Dale, this can be as miserable an experience as you want to make it, but listen to me. This is nothing more than a costume. You are doing your sister a favor, nothing more. I didn't tell anyone, and I assume you didn't. Now you can either make this the worst night of your life, or you can think what a great person you are for helping out your sis." I grunted neutrally. Jenni directed me to go take a shower and shave my legs and armpits. "Shave my legs? No way!" "C'mon Dale, who's going to notice? It's getting colder already, it's not like you'll be wearing shorts soon." I went into the bathroom and closed the door. I stepped under the cascading shower and washed. When I could no longer put off the inevitable, I took out my seldom used razor and began to run it along my legs. Several nicks later I was done. My legs felt smoother, but not by a whole lot. Jenni was right. I had so little hair there in the first place no one would look twice. The pits were a little more difficult. I had to have Jenni toss me some scissors to trim most of the hair. I took the rest off with the razor, ruining the blade in the process. The denuded armpits were more noticeable. I would have no remember not to wear a tank top until the hair grew back. I stepped out of the shower. "OK, Dr. Frankenstein, what now?" I called out. "Put these on," called Jenni as she tossed something through a crack in the bathroom door. I picked it up. It appeared to be the bottom of a bikini, only it was made of sturdy rubber. "Jenni, these are too small! Women don't wear things like this!" "Yes," she replied through the door, "but men who want to look like women do. You have extra parts that we can't have 'popping up,' while you're dressed like me." The thing was miserably tight. I felt my testicles migrate up into their recesses and my penis turn inside out. Jenni was right though, all that was visible of my manhood was a small bump. Jenni then tossed a pair of cotton panties through the door. "Jenni, do I have to wear panties? Who's going to know?" "Dale, does it really matter at this point?" I supposed not. I slipped them on. Jenni tossed me something else. I laughed. "Now Jenni, don't you think you're taking this woman thing a little too far? Maxipads? What could I possibly need those for?" "Not to use them, Dale. They're for padding. Slip 'em in your panties. One down each hip vertically, and two around your butt, horizontally. That should give you a more girlish rear end and hips." "Now how could you possibly know that?" I asked. "I read it on the internet." "Of course." Jenni then passed me a bra. Only it wasn't really a bra. Each cup contained a fluid-filled sack. "They're for women who've had mastectomies," Jenni explained. "It's supposed to simulate a woman's breasts. I got it from a friend who works at the hospital." I put it on, untangled it, took it off, and finally put in on correctly. It was a little like those body holsters some policeman wear. I looked down at my body. I looked as silly as I felt. Well, maybe I had a new Halloween costume, but I didn't see how this silly padding job would change anything. The last thing Jenni handed me was a girdle. It was an uncomfortable fit and it pulled my sides in painfully close. I started to open my mouth to complain, but then thought the better of it. It made me look so ridiculous that I figured wearing it would actually help convince Jenni not to ask me to dress like this. "Anything else?" I asked Jenni. "No, c'mon out." "But I'm half naked!" "Then throw on a robe or something. Nothing that pulls over your head though, I'm doing your makeup next and I don't want it to get smeared." I pulled on a pair of boxers and one of John's old button-down shirts I found on the floor. As I was about to leave, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. All of a sudden, what I was wearing wasn't so funny anymore. Now that the padding was covered with clothes, I looked different. My hips and rear stuck out like a girl's. My sides curved inward, giving me an slight. hourglass figure. Worst of all, the mastectomy bra made it look like I had breasts! Medium-sized, pert little feminine breasts! Every part of my body that was covered with clothes could have easily belonged to a woman. Still, I wasn't that worried. Padding can change some things, but my face was still mine. I still had that rugged, handsome face I looked at in the mirror ever morning. So she slapped some paint on it, big deal. No way could she make me look convincing. I stepped out into the living room. Jenni had me sit in our big recliner and tilted me back. She moved my reading lamp over to my side to get a better look at my face. Then she began. First, she combed and brushed out my hair. She berated me about what the cheap shampoo I used was doing to my hair until I agreed to let her buy me some she approved of. I refused her request to get a permanent or anything like that, though I did allow her to trim off some split-ends. She took out one of those cloth covered elastic things that women call a 'scrunchie' and tied my hair back into a pony-tail. Then she went to work on my makeup. She smiled. "This isn't going to be so hard," she said. "Your jaw isn't too prominent, and you don't really have a beard. I'll give you a makeover tonight, but you'll have to learn how to do this on your own." "And people said I'd never learn anything in college." "That's the spirit, keep up your sense of humor." Jenni went to work. She slathered my face with a variety of eyeliners, mascara, lipstick, rouge, and blush. Several times she would wipe my face clean and start all over again. I began to see why women spend such a long time in the bathroom. I even caught her plucking my eyebrows until I realized what she was doing and made her stop. Finally she decided I was presentable. I tried to get a glimpse of myself in her makeup mirror, but she refused, saying she only wanted me to see the finished product when I decided if I could pass for her. "Jenni," I asked, "do you really think this makeup is going to do any good?" "Absolutely," she tittered. "By the time I'm done with you, you won't even believe you're a man." That made me mad. "I'm sorry Jenni, but there are just some things that makeup cannot change!" Jenni looked surprisingly hurt by the comment. Then I remembered. For quite some time Jenni had tried to cover up her scars with makeup. She had eventually realized how fruitless this was and abandoned her attempts. I felt bad about accidentally striking a nerve, so I didn't say anything else. Jenni handed me some nylon stocking which I slid on with difficulty. She was rummaging through her garment bag. "Ah, here it is. I think it will be perfect for you. Very conservative and goes well with your complexion." It was a plain black dress. The sleeves were full to the wrist and it looked like the bottom seam would reach the floor. The neckline, while lower than a man's garment, wasn't too deep. I regarded it sourerly. "What's the matter, Dale? What did you want, a prom dress?" "Just remember why I'm even doing this, Jenni." Jenni took the hint and shut up, though I was secretly relieved that the dress was so conservative. I had half expected her to dress me up like a Las Vegas showgirl. Jenni helped me into the dress and zipped me up in back. She then clipped two faux-pearl earrings on my ears and a pearl necklace around my neck. Then she did my nails. They were too short to paint, so she applied some of those plastic, press-on kind. She told me I would have to stop clipping my own until Steve got here so that she could paint them then. Little did she know there that this was the last time I would dress like this. Last came the shoes. She said she had a hard time finding anything in my size, but hand managed to get a nice look pair of flats that weren't too small. After she adjusted my makeup one more time, she led me to the mirror. I was sad to see her deluding herself like this, thinking that I could ever make a convincing girl. In a few moments I would have to bring her down to earth. Still, I might as well have a look at the damage. I expected to see a reflection of some ridiculous guy dressed like a girl, kinda like Benny Hill in drag. I guess that's why I let out an involuntary gasp when I saw the mirror. Jenni was looking back at me from the glass! My God, I looked exactly like her! Glossy, well combed hair, a delicately painted face. Small hands with painted nails. A cute little dress. A curvy figure with a woman's chest. The only major difference was that I had no scars. I looked like the woman Jenni would have been, the woman she should have been. The woman she almost was. This was a catastrophe! All night I had assumed that I would look so funny in a dress that Jenni would see her error and give up the plan. Now what could I do? "So what do you think?" asked Jenni, excitedly. "I guess I look OK." Much as I wanted to say I looked horrible, I couldn't. The resemblance to Jenni was too striking. I couldn't insult my looks without insulting hers. "You look great, Dale!" "I do not. This is never going to work, Jenni." Jenni was about to protest when I heard something that made all my previous fears seem like nothing. There was a key turning in my lock! It had to be John, he was home from his gig at least three hours early! I panicked. John barely knew me. What if he thought I was gay, or that I liked dressing like this for fun? What if he got his kicks beating the crap out of guys who wore dresses? I wasn't in the mood for a fist- fight, especially dressed like this. From the scared look on Jenni's face, she had come to the same conclusion. John staggered in, reeking of rum and smoking what I hoped was a hand- rolled cigarette. "God damn sons of bitches shut down the frigging club. f---in' board of health, not like anyone's never found a rat's head in their beer before!" John turned in our direction. His eyes narrowed in rage. "What in the hell is going on here?" he bellowed. "John, listen, I can explain..." I began. "Explain, yeah, someone had better freaking explain!" John was literally quaking with anger. He was even madder than I had feared. "It's not what it looks like," Jenni said meekly. "It better not be!" John continued to rant. "I mean all I ask is for you to tape the Giant's game while I'm out, and I can see the VCR isn't even on!" It took Jenni and I a couple of seconds to realize that John wasn't looking at me, but at the television. "Oh," I stammered. "The game was rained out. They're playing tomorrow." "Oh, OK," said John, chucking his pungent smoking material into the waste basket; his anger almost instantly dissolving. He looked at me. "So what's with the whacky get-up?" "Well, Jenni met this guy on the internet..." John had already wandered into the kitchen. "No kidding," he said, not paying attention. "Hey, are these your Sugar-krispies? Can I have some?" When John had finally stumbled into bed, Jenni looked at me and smiled. "There, you see, John saw you and didn't think there was anything strange going on." "Jenni, if a herd of elephants in tutus paraded through here, John wouldn't think anything strange was going on. I'm sorry, but this costume doesn't convince me." "Well it convinces me. Maybe both of us are seeing what we want to see. We need someone else to decide." "Great," I said sarcastically. "Why don't we invite some sorority chicks to come in here and judge?" "Not like that. Listen, I know this little bar in a town about twenty miles from here. Why don't we go there and have a drink. If anyone realizes that you are not a girl, then I'll never ask you to do this again." "Great. And I'll become the laughing stock on campus. This guy who likes to dress like a woman." "Dale, do you know anyone on this campus besides me and John?" "Well, no." What with all the chaos of moving, I had only managed to make a couple of casual acquaintances. "There you go," replied Jenni. "No one knows you, and even if someone realized you weren't a guy, which I doubt, they'd never recognize you as Dale Simmons. We'll be miles from campus anyway." "Sorry Jenni. This is my social life on the line, not yours. No way." Jenni looked sad. "Dale, I could sit here all night and tell you what Steve means to me. I could beg you, or threaten you, or cry, but I'm not. I'm just going to say one thing: please." I looked at Jenni, my nineteen-year-old sister who had never been loved by anyone but me. I thought of how happy a boyfriend would make her. Two words kept running through my mind. One was 'Jenni.' The other was 'please.' A few minutes later I had put my wallet in a purse Jenni had brought, and we were off. Jenni was driving and kept insisting that I sit up straight. For some reason I found it more comfortable to ride slouched down near the floorboards where no one could see me. Finally, we arrived at the small bar. It was a secluded little place, I'd have to remember it for the next time I wanted to take a girl somewhere quiet. "OK," I said. "Here's the plan. We go in, drink something, and get the hell out. We should be in and out in under five minutes." "Dale, we're going out for a drink, not pulling a bank job. You know, it's possible for you to have a good time tonight." "Yes, but since I'm not at home watching football, I really don't see how that will be possible." Jenni smiled, shook her head, and we walked inside. The place was crowded, most tables were occupied. Several couples danced to the pop music that poured out of the jukebox. I was frightened to see several people wearing shirts with my college's name on them. We sat down in the back and ordered sodas, since we were underage. I guess I was anxious to leave, I had chugged mine and was asking to go before Jenni had even taken a sip or hers. I froze in horror when a big frat guy from my school started coming our way. I prayed that he only wanted to use the men's room, but he made a beeline for our table. I had been spotted! He recognized me! I was a dead man. I hoped that he didn't have any violence on his mind. Maybe he would just be content with humiliating me and wouldn't want to fight or to spread my dress habits all over campus. "Hi!" he said when he reached us. "I'm Chris, a Kappa Alpha man!" Big deal, I thought. "So," he said, looking at me, "would you care to dance?" I was very nearly sick. He didn't want to hit me, he wanted to hit on me! To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement. And in front of Jenni! Now I could never tell her the costume wouldn't work. I managed to stammer out a negative answer. He turned to Jenni. "Well then, how about y..." he then saw Jenni's face, full on. "Uh, I gotta go," he stammered and practically ran off. "What an asshole," I said to Jenni. Then I saw the horribly hurt look on her face. I was sure pissed, that guy practically told her he wouldn't dance with her because of her scars. It wouldn't have killed him to dance one number with her and would have made Jenni's night. I wanted to ask him to step outside, but I really wasn't dressed for heroics. "Jenni, don't let that jerk get you down. He's not worth it." Jenni smiled a fake smile. "Don't worry. It' s not like that's never happened to me before. Let's just get out of here." All the way home I kept trying to think of ways to cheer her up. There was only one thing I knew that would accomplish that. We pulled into my driveway. "Night, Dale. See you round," she said flatly. "Jenni, listen." Her eyes brightened, almost imperceptively. "Would it mean a lot to you if I went on this..." I couldn't say date, not with a man. "If I met Steve in your place?" "Dale," she replied with no exaggeration, "it would mean the world to me." "All right. No kissing, nothing stupid, but I'll do it. For you." Jenni gave me a huge hug. "I'll never forget this, little brother. I'll make this up to you for the rest of my life. And I want you to know that Steve and I will always welcome you in our home." I thought she was rushing things a bit, but it was good to see her so happy. I told her good night and went inside. I took of the silly women's clothes, washed off my makeup, and climbed into bed. 'My God,' I thought. 'What have I agreed to?' Chapter Three: We had exactly one week until Steve arrived and Jenni seemed bound and determined to replace eighteen years of male programming in seven days. It was rough. My only consolation was that once Steve was gone this whole business would be over, and hopefully Jenni would be a lot happier for my efforts. The first day of my 'training' was spent reading and rereading letters and e-mail that Jenni and Steve had exchanged. I was forced to listen to pointless lectures about Steve: his family, he likes and dislikes, his school, etc. It was all hideously dull for me, but Jenni wanted me to be prepared. She didn't want Steve to bring up some past conversation of theirs and for me to not know what he was talking about. It also kind of irked me when I found out how much she had shared with Steve, how she had told him many private, intimate thoughts that she had not even shared with me. I knew it was natural for a girl her age to open up to a boyfriend more than a family member, but it was all new to me. Most guys come to grips with their sisters' dates during middle school, not college. Steve's letters disturbed me a little, as well. He was always going on and on about how he 'desired' Jenni, how he 'longed for her,' and how he 'wanted to hold her in his arms.' He sounded pretty turned on to me. Jenni assured me they had a relationship based on much more than physical encounters, but I wasn't so sure. Steve was flying half way across the country to see Jenni. I wasn't sure if he would be content with 'no kissing.' I would have to watch myself constantly. Jenni was a tough teacher. I just figured that she'd show me how to put on lipstick and eyeliner and that would be enough. Not so. Jenni claimed I looked the part, but she wanted to make sure that I acted the part. First came the posturing and walking lessons. Back and forth across the my living room, wearing a dress and wobbly high heels, every day for what seemed like hours. John had mysteriously vanished several nights ago. I had no idea where he was, but I figured he would be back by the time classes started. At any rate, we had the privacy we needed for Jenni to teach me how to walk again. "No Dale, stop slouching! Chest out, head high! I swear, you walk like a caveman! One hip forward at a time, atta boy, or should I say girl? Don't worry, you'll get the hang of those heels. It took me a while, too." Then the makeup and hair lessons started. While Jenni was going to help prepare me for the date, she wanted to make sure I could adjust my hair and makeup on my own. While my nails wouldn't be long enough in time, she kept them manicured and clipped nicer than they had ever been under my care. Soon I understood the basics of making myself up. My voice presented a problem. While I didn't exactly talk like James Earl Jones, I didn't have a falsetto voice, either. Jenni worked and worked with me. She told me to talk like I was yawning and whispering at the same time. While I thought I sounded silly, at least I could manage a passable woman's voice for a while. What I had the most trouble with were her lesson on deportment. It was so easy to forget that now I couldn't pick my teeth, sit with my legs spread, or go into the men's room. She reminded me over and over again not to be aggressive, to let the guy make all the decisions, to be submissive. It galled me. I hated this. At least now I had a slightly better understanding of what women have to put up with. I made a vow that next time I took a girl out on a date, I would be damn sure to compliment her on her clothes, dress, hair, and anything else she might have worked hard on for me. Finally, it was the night before Steve was scheduled to arrive. Jenni nervously dressed me in outfit after outfit, trying to find one that she thought that Steve would like. She was so nervous, you would have thought it was her going on the date instead of me. In a way it was her, I certainly wasn't going for my own personal enjoyment. As she laid out my outfit, she spoke to me. "Dale, you know how I told Steve I, well you, wouldn't kiss him, right?" "Right. And I hope you said it like you meant it." "Well, Dale, I've been thinking. Steve is going to be flying hundreds of miles to see me. I've been telling him for months how much I like him, and I worry that he's going to think that I don't if I don't give him a couple of kisses." "No!" "Just one little kiss goodbye. Just touch his lips with yours, no tongue. How hard could that be?" "We had a deal Jenni. Not in a million years." "Well, could you at least hold his hand?" I was getting pissed. "Why don't I just stay home tomorrow? That's what I want to do." "Dale, you're not being fair." "No, you're not being fair," I snapped back. "Do you know how many guys would do something like this for their sisters? None! I don't even know why I'm doing it, but I said I would and I am. But don't push me or you'll have to do this on your own." Jenni dressed me in silence. First I slipped on some nylons. When I had first tried to do this I had torn them in three places. Now, thanks to Jenni's training, I could easily slide on nylons and hose, even while wearing the fake nails. Next, I stepped into a little black skirt that she had picked out. The weather was unseasonably warm, therefore, in my opinion, the skirt was unreasonably short. It only came down to my knees! It was pleated, and buttoned on the side. This took a while to adjust to, I was used to having a zipper in the front. Next, I put on a blouse. It was poofy and white and dipped down too far in the front. It was tight and you could see the mounds of my 'breasts' quite clearly. Finally, there came a black silk vest. It was sleeveless and left my arms bare to the shoulders. It buttoned in the front, the 'wrong' way (buttons on the left). I stepped into some little black pumps that I still felt unsteady on. Some silvery jewelry on my wrist, neck and ears and a black leather handbag completed the picture. "So," I asked grimly "how do I look?" "See for yourself," replied Jenni, with a sad smile. I looked in the mirror she indicated. Thanks to the week of training and makeup practice, I looked even more like Jenni than before. I could have been her identical twin. God, why couldn't I have been born extremely tall? Why couldn't I have been tough and muscular? Why couldn't I have been super hairy? But no, I was skinny and short and there was no denying how much I looked like my sister. "Dale," asked Jenni "what do you think Mom would do if she saw you?" "I know exactly what she'd do. She'd probably fuss with my makeup and enter me in the Miss Teen USA pageant." I laughed at my attempt at humor. Jenni didn't. She looked at me with a strangely intense look on her face. "Dale, promise me something. I don't expect you to kiss Steve, I guess that is too much to ask. But don't act miserable. He'll be able to tell. Please act happy. Act like you're in love. Act like Steve is the man you're going to marry. Dale, that's how I feel. Please Dale, do this for me. I can't. For one day of your life, be pretty and charming and in love. It's only an act for you, but not for me. Please." I nodded, not knowing what else to do. The next day I drove Jenni's car to the airport. "Relax," I told myself. "Be happy. Have a good time. This is for Jenni. You are going to make her happy. Steve will be gone in exactly 23 and a half hours." I recognized Steve before he saw me. He looked just like his picture: brown beard and hair, blue eyes, tall, and I guess you would call him good looking. I took a deep breath and called out his name. "Jenni!" he shouted across the terminal. He rushed to me and, before I could prevent it, gave me a huge hug. I had to restrain myself from wiggling free. A guy flies all this way to meet a girl, a hug's not a lot to ask. I would just keep having to tell myself that Steve thought I was Jenni and was reacting in a normal way. I would also have to remind myself to react how Jenni would. I told Steve how happy I was that he had come, trying to sound sincere. Steve gave me a small bouquet of roses. I smiled, thinking how happy Jenni would be when I gave them to her. "Thank you," I told him. "No problem," he said. "So what do you want to do?" I suggested that we grab something to eat. We drove to a nice little restaurant near the airport. Fancy, but not too pricey. We sat in a corner booth and talked. Well, Steve talked. I hated to think anything bad about Steve this early on, but he sure seemed vain. All the conversation pretty much revolved around him. This made things a little easier for me, since I didn't have to talk about myself too much or worry about making my voice sound feminine. Still, I was bored. I timed Steve on the clock behind him. He once talked for 23 minutes without requiring me to say anything. I finally suggested that we leave and go somewhere else. "I couldn't agree more," said Steve. Before I realized what he was doing, he had grabbed my hand. It took a lot of willpower for me not to yank it away. He looked into my eyes. "Why don't we get away from here and go somewhere dark and quiet, where we can be close." Yikes! I knew what that meant. "I couldn't agree more," I replied, trying to sound flighty. "Let's go see a movie!" Steve was obviously disappointed, but tough for him. Jenni had said no kissing and he'd just have to deal with it. But there was something on my mind. The nagging, unpleasant sensation that I had forgotten to do something. Something important. As we got into my car, I realized what it was. "My God Steve, I forgot to register for classes!" It was true. In all the hubbub of getting ready for this farce of a date, I had forgotten that it was also registration week! Today, being Friday, was the last day to sign up. If I didn't go in today I wouldn't be registered at all. Then I couldn't join a class until someone else dropped it, which might not be for weeks. It would be academic suicide, to say the least. I explained the situation to Steve, sweetly saying that it was due to my excitement of his arrival that I had forgotten to sign up. Much to my surprise, Steve seemed rather put out. It would only take me a half an hour, but he acted like it was the world's biggest imposition. Well, he could handle it. I walked into the registration building, nervous as hell. Could I even register dressed like this? There was no time to go home and change, besides, I couldn't just ask Steve to hang out on campus alone for an hour or so. Well, I thought, Dale can be a woman's name. I'll just sign up as is, and a few days later I'll come back and tell them that they accidentally marked me as 'female.' Shouldn't be a problem. The chain-smoking registrar put my name down on the class lists without giving me a second glance. He'd probably had a rough day and wasn't thinking about anything other than going home. I felt a moment of panic when I realized that I would also be having my photo taken for my student ID as well. Then I remembered that John had told me you could have an ID replaced for five dollars. I'd just say that I'd lost mine and have a real picture taken. I left the building, all signed up for school and ready to go. Steve greeted me with friendly "So are you finished yet?" Jeez, what did Jenni see in this guy? He must have been more charming on computer. Or, maybe I was just judging him harshly. I probably wouldn't think any man was good enough for my sister. We bought tickets at a theater near campus. I had wanted to see "Revenge of the Kung Fu Robot," but I figured that that would have been a most un-Jenni like selection. Instead I insisted on seeing some foreign film that seemed more in character. Steve didn't seem to be happy with the choice, but at least now I wasn't the only one going to see something I didn't care for. We sat next to each other in the darkened theater. The film was surprisingly good. It was about a World War I soldier whose wife leaves him the day before he ships out to the front. I guess I got a little to into it; I didn't notice Steve reaching to put his arm around me until he had already succeeded. It was a tense situation for me. He had really overstepped himself now, with his arm draped casually over my shoulder, his hand resting on my bare forearm. But what could I do? If I were to shrug him off, then he'd think I, or really Jenni, didn't like him. It didn't make much sense for me to go to all this trouble to help Jenni, only to ruin her chances with Steve. Besides, it was just a friendly half-embrace. I had done that to any number of my dates. That was a disgusting thought: how many of my dates had wished I wouldn't touch them? I tried to get back into the plot of the movie while ignoring the large male forearm wrapped around me. It was not easy for me to relax knowing that its owner was probably now thinking about how he could get me in bed. I just kept telling myself to persevere, that this would all be over before I knew it. Then it happened. During the scene where the wounded hero kisses a nurse in a field hospital, I saw Steve's head coming at me. I jumped up just before his lips met mine. "Where are you going?" asked Steve, shocked. "To the bath...to the ladies' room," I mumbled and was off like a shot. Remembering to use the correct restroom, I rushed into the women's bathroom. It was the only place I could be rid of him and think. I was surprised at how clean it was compared to the men's room. No graffiti, no trash on the floor, it was an interesting sight. Just then a movie let out somewhere and the washroom was filled with women using the facilities, checking their makeup, and gossiping. Not to draw attention to myself, I touched up my lipstick. My thoughts were racing. Steve had broken his 'no kissing' promise. That bastard! I ought to just leave him stranded here. I hated him. But, soon I began to calm down. It's not like he whipped out his dick or anything, he just ventured a kiss. If Jenni really were here, he'd probably have gotten one. And how often had I tried to kiss a girl I didn't know that well? I shuddered when I remembered how embarrassing it was to try to kiss a girl and be denied. Now I was experiencing a date from the woman's point of view. It was so humiliating! Is that how I appeared to women? I certainly hoped not. The problem at hand, though, was Steve. What should I do? I obviously couldn't kiss him. But what would he think? I didn't want him to think that Jenni didn't like him. I came up with a plan. I would go for a walk with him. I would lay it on thick and heavy about how much I liked him. I would tell him softly and sincerely that I couldn't kiss him on the first date, but the next time I saw him I wouldn't be so shy. That way he'd know that Jenni liked him and he would be willing to come back. At the same time it would save me from kissing him. When I stepped out of the theater, I realized that the movie had ended. Steve stood in the lobby looking perplexed. He seemed to cheer up when I suggested taking a walk. I lead him to a park behind the geology building. It was dark and secluded. We sat on a bench. "Steve," I began "I really, really like you..." that was as far as I got. "I like you too," he said. Then he grabbed me and kissed me. I tried to struggle, but he was too powerful. I remember all the sensations: his scratchy beard, his painful grip, the slobbering pressure of his lips. He would not let go! I couldn't get away! If I opened my mouth to yell I knew he'd just jab his tongue in. I was trapped! Then the solution hit me. I stopped struggling and sucked my lips into my mouth. I stood stock still, without moving or responding. I had guessed correctly, Steve soon lost interest. As soon as my mouth was out of danger's way, I lit into Steve. "You promised me no kissing!" I hollered. "Give me a break Jenni! Do you think I flew all this way for 'no kissing?' Or for just kissing? Now stop acting so coy!" I stood up and jumped away. "Steve," I began, barely able to keep my voice feminine "I'm going to drive you to your hotel now. You'll forgive me if I ask you to take a cab to the airport tomorrow." Steve glared at me. "Forget it, slut. I'm walking." Steve stormed off, turning only to shout at me. "Bitch!" I drove home well in excess of the speed limit. I had known that this day was going to be horrible, but I didn't think it would be this bad. Jesus, I could still taste that jerk's slobber in my mouth. I'd have to drink some scalding hot coffee when I got home. The worst part was I didn't know what to say to Jenni. I didn't think she'd blame me, once I told her how he had assumed she wanted to sleep with him and cursed me when he realized otherwise. But it would break her heart. She was probably already picking out baby names, she was so sure that things were going to work out for her and Steve. How would I tell my own sister the man of her dreams was a total prick? She would be by in the morning to pick up her car. I would have to think of something by then. I walked into my apartment, counting the remaining seconds until I could get into some decent male clothes. Much to my surprise, I realized that John was back. He was passed out under the coffee table, cradling an empty bottle of vodka like it was a teddy bear. "Sleep tight, amigo," I muttered to him as I walked towards my room. Suddenly, a voice from behind me made me turn. It was Jenni. "Dale!" she yelped excitedly from front door. "I couldn't wait. Tell me every detail!" Jenni looked as excited as a child on Christmas morning. I wished that I could tell her of the wonderful, romantic evening that 'she' had just experienced. But she deserved the truth. I asked her to sit down. I told her everything, not leaving anything out, but not trying to make any moral judgments, either. He joy quickly faded. By the time my story was done, she was sitting morosely with her head in her hands. "So he was just like all the others. Just wanted to screw a pretty face. Just wanted to get laid. I never meant a thing to him. He's probably got a bunch of cyber-girlfriends." I wanted to be comforting, but I wasn't sure what to say. "Sorry Jenni," I said, lamely. Jenni looked at me. Much to my relief, she didn't look angry, at least not at me. "Dale, you did more than anyone would have expected you to. I'm surprised you put up with so much before you told him off. Thanks, little brother." "Jenni, it wasn't a big deal." "Of course it was a big deal! I guess it was a stupid idea for me to have you go in my place." I looked at my sister. "Yes, it was stupid. It was stupid that you thought you had to have this elaborate ruse to get some guy to like you. Promise me you'll never do that again. When you meet someone special, and I know you will, then you can proudly look him in the face." Jenni was about to sob, but she was smiling. "You really think so?" "I know so." We hugged. Jenni cried, and I shed a few tears myself. Finally we calmed down. "So," said Jenni, "what was being a woman like? Was it that bad?" "Jenni it was horrible! Now I know what I look like to my dates! Yuck!" Jenni laughed. "I doubt you're as bad as Steve. Well, now that it's over, you can forget it ever happened." "Almost over. Remember, I had to register as a female. I still have to get that straightened out." There was a loud, painful 'whack!' as John sat bolt-upright and cracked his head on the bottom of the coffee table. He staggered around the living room, clutching his head and howling like a cat in a blender. Finally he managed to find words. "Regist...regist...classes? No! No! Ya can't...ya...no!" He was still quite drunk. "John, what in the hell are you babbling about?" John tried to answer me, but then stopped. He clutched his stomach and ran to the bathroom. For the next few minutes Jenni and I were treated to the lovely music of John vomiting into (I hoped) the toilet. "I don't remember eating that," mumbled John as he staggered out of the bathroom and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He seemed a little more sober now. "John," I said, with extreme patience, "what were you talking about back there? About classes?" As John brewed a pot of coffee, he explained. I was a freshman, Jenni was a sophomore. John, a junior (well, actually a third-year sophomore) knew something we didn't. Three years ago, the school ran rampant with cheating. Grad students would openly take tests and write papers for wealthy undergrads. People would have friends attend classes for them and take their tests. It got to be so bad that you could literally graduate with honors, never having taken a test or attended a class. Academic papers had listen our college as 'a joke of a school.' TV news shows gleefully exposed 'Party U.' No one who wanted a real education would enroll. The state was about a hair's breadth from revoking our accreditation, and therefore any state funding. The school had done the only thing it could possibly do. It went on the offensive. Academic dishonesty became a suspendable offense. Anyone who took a test or wrote a paper for anyone else would be kicked out of school. In order to enforce this, students had to present their student ID to the professor on the first day of class and at every test. If you tried to use someone else's ID, or if you showed up at a class that you weren't registered in, you could face suspension for a full term. There would be no chance to make up the credit and no reimbursement of tuition. The school never made an exception when it came to the rule. Two years ago some star football players had paid some cheerleaders to take their finals. Everyone involved was suspended. It cost the school its first bowl game in ten years, but at least the state was satisfied. They kept their accreditation and funding. The horror of my situation began to dawn on me. I had registered as a female. Could they actually think I had done that so I could have some woman stand in for my classes? "John," I asked, "do you really think that just because my file says 'FEMALE,' they'll kick me out?" John mulled this over. "Maybe no one would care. Maybe. Your problem is that picture on your ID." I was getting mad. "You told me it was easy to get an ID replaced!" "Replaced, sure. But your picture's on file in the computers. They'll just use the same photo. They never change photos, too expensive." "So now I'm stuck with a woman's ID! How can I go to classes? How can I take tests? No one will ever believe this picture is of me!" I was waving around my woman's ID, furious. I turned to John and got right in his face. "Why the hell didn't you warn me?" "Don't blame me. How was I supposed to know you'd register dressed like this?" He grinned at my costume. I was embarrassed to realized that I was still dolled up like Jenni, and to make matters worse, my phoney breasts were pressed right into John's chest. I backed up. "Did you go to your freshman orientation?" continued John. "They explain about IDs there." I hadn't. I tried to think of a way to blame Jenni, but what was the use? It was my job to register and I hadn't. "So what do I do now?" I asked, desperately. The three of us discussed it and came to the following conclusions. 1. I couldn't risk trying to change my ID or just using the one I had. If I got caught I could get kicked out. That would ruin my college career. I doubted that any school authority would believe I had 'accidentally' registered in a skirt. 2. I couldn't put off going to college until next year and then reregistering as myself. I had no where to go, I had paid two months rent on this apartment, and I didn't want to work some minimum wage job while I waited for next year. To make matters worse, I would still owe student loans, whether I was in school or not. It was Jenni who came up with the solution I eventually adopted. "Dale," she asked "How important is going to this particular school to you? I mean, would you be willing to go somewhere else?" "Sure," I said, "but that's not an option. If I drop out of here I don't get all of my tuition back. I won't have enough money to register at another school." "Yes, but what if you transferred to another school next year? Since you're only taking basic freshman classes this year you won't have to worry about them accepting your transcript. Since I know you plan to study hard, you won't have to worry about not having a good enough GPA to be accepted somewhere else." "Sure, I could transfer. But that doesn't get me out of the woods this year. I'm stuck with this female ID!" "Well, supposing you were a female." "But I'm n..." Then I realized what she was implying. "Oh, no! I'll be damned if I'm going to go to school as a girl! No way!" "Dale, can you think of another way?" I tried to but failed. "But Jenni, I can't just attend classes as a girl and then go home and be a guy again! Someone would catch on! I'd be caught." "Well, you could dress full time." "Well you could dress full time," I mimicked. "Yeah, great. Live as a woman for a damn year. I'm really going to do that." "Dale, I think it's the only way." I didn't feel like having this conversation anymore. I ran to my room and slammed the door. Chapter Four: It was the first day of classes. As I sat in my desk in my freshman English class, I wondered why I was so nervous. Maybe it was because it was the first day or classes, or that I was worried about doing good in school. Or maybe it was because I was dressed like a freaking woman! Here it was, my first day of school, and I'm wearing a dress and high heels. I had begged Jenni to help me find something that would make me look frumpy and ugly, but she had insisted on making me look like a cute little coed. My hair was tied back in a pony tail, my face was made up, and my nails were painted (my real nails now). Jenni had laid down several rules for my new life. No more working out at the gym, women don't have big muscles. No dating, women don't date other women. No belching, or drinking beer, or bashing heads in the mosh pit, too unladylike. The worst thing was how I was treated by guys. They flirted with me! They went out of their way to talk to me or ask me if I needed help. I wondered if they knew how obvious their intentions were. Probably not. Every time a guy hit on me I my manhood would be questioned. It was being questioned almost every day now. I looked around the room. There were at least four women whose telephone number I would have loved to have had. I sighed as a guy who was no better looking than me sat down next to one of them and easily started a conversation. "Hi, how you doing?" I heard a voice next to me. Some big jocktype was sitting next to me. He was smiling intently. Christ, not again. I wasn't in the mood to fend off his flirtations, so I mumbled "Fine," and turned away. Maybe his feelings would be hurt, but what of it? He could get a date later, I couldn't. I adjusted my dress again. It was such a pain, constantly having to make sure I wasn't sitting with my legs spread apart. The professor came in. The first thing he did was collect IDs and check them. Some schmuck who had forgotten his was forced to go home and get it, thus missing the entire class. I guess John had been right, I never would have gotten away dressing like a man and having a woman's ID. The class was interesting, but I didn't care. I never volunteered anything and only answered questions when I was called upon. I had gone from being the high school class clown to a shy college girl. I didn't like it, not one bit. After class, a pretty girl in a sorority sweater came up and started talking to me. "Hi," she said with a cute Boston accent "I'm Stephanie." "I'm Dale," I replied. "That's an original name. I like it. You seemed nervous back there, was something wrong?" Stephanie had short dark hair, big brown eyes, and a nice figure. I was enraptured. "Oh, nothing," I answered. "I'm just new in this area and the campus is a little overwhelming." Stephanie smiled. "Oh, you just need to make some friends. My sorority is having a mixer tonight. Why don't I pick you up and we'll go together?" My soul soared, then crashed back to earth. She wasn't asking me out, she was just being nice to what she thought was another girl. If she had seen me as a guy she might not have given me the time of day. I gave he my address. That night, I got ready for the party. Jenni insisted that I wear one of her skirts, but conceded that if I wore a sweater it wouldn't look out of place. She cautioned me to be careful around any drunk frat guys. Stephanie rang the bell a few minutes later. She seemed surprised to find that John was my roommate. As we were driving away, I told her that John and I were only friends. "Maybe so," she said "but be careful. Guys only have on thing on their minds. Don't be surprised if he comes on to you one day." I thanked her, though I figured that John would probably be able to control himself around me. When we pulled up in front of the sweltering Greek house, the party was going on in full swing. Music was blasting, people were dancing, everyone was having a good time. As soon as we got inside, I knew I wasn't going to be able to enjoy myself. If I had been dressed as I guy I would have already been off hitting on some girl. Now I stood quietly at Stephanie's side, wishing I hadn't come. It didn't help that the big frat guy who was watching the door made a pass at me. Stephanie introduced me around. I met several pretty girls who I would never be able to ask out and several guys who you would have thought were being introduced to my chest, from where their eyes were fixed. "Hey, Steph, baby!" someone called out. We turned around to see some guy who made John look like a spokesman for a temperance society. Moronically drunk did not even begin to describe him. He stumbled over to Stephanie and leered at her. "Back off, Howie," she yelled at him above the music. "I told you it's over. We're through." She pointedly turned her back on him. He tried to say something, but only managed to puke all over her back. "Oh, gross!" she screamed, and ran for the bathroom. Without thinking, I followed. We were alone in the bathroom. I shut and locked the door. When I turned around, I was shocked to see that she had removed her shirt and was soaking it in the sink. I nearly fell over when her bra followed. After senior prom last year I had made love to my date. That had been my one sexual experience. The sight of the female body still was new and very exciting to me. Here Stephanie stood, not three feet from me, her naked chest fully visible. She tried in vain to look over her shoulder. "Did that jerk get any barf on my back?" she asked. "Yes," I replied. There was some, but only a spot the size of a pencil lead. "Would you mind?" she asked, hanging me a wet washcloth. I ran the warm, wet cloth down her bare back, shoulders, and neck. I felt my penis strain against the sex hiding panties as it tried to get erect. I wanted to grab her, kiss her, tell her she was gorgeous. Instead I simply handed her back the cloth and told her that she was clean. Stephanie hung her shirt over the shower curtain and began telling me about her relationship with Howie. I turned my head so I wouldn't be caught starting at her perfect breasts. I stared at them in the mirror instead. I felt bad. Stephanie was telling me all her life's troubles, not realizing that I was just some guy who was paying more attention to her erect nipples than to her story. She was interrupted by a banging at the door. "Out in a second!" she called. Then the door burst open. I had locked it, but the lock was old and ill fitting. It was that puking drunk, Howie. "Get out of here!" Stephanie screamed, covering her breasts with her hands. Howie didn't listen. He just pinned her against the wall and began kissing her. She couldn't get away without exposing her bare chest. "Get away from her!" I shouted. "Quiet, you!" Howie shot back at me, and grabbed Stephanie's rear. That was assault, no matter how you looked at it. I had to do something. Without stopping to think, I punched him in the back of his head. He staggered, fell, banged his head on the sink, and was out like a light. I think the booze was mostly to blame. Stephanie was too shocked to say anything. I knew I had to get her out of there. Her top was still too damp to wear, so I ran out, grabbed my coat, and threw it over her shoulders. I then picked up her shirt and bra and lead her by the hand out a back door. By the time we got back to the car, she was sufficiently recovered to drive. When we got back to my place she thanked me for my heroics. "Oh, I was just helping out. It was no big deal." "Of course it was a big deal. Where did you learn to punch like that?" "I, uh, took a self defense class." "Well if paid off. Men are such jerks. I don't know why we even bother." I felt obliged to defend my sex. "Well, not all men are jerks." "Sometimes it seems like it. Good night, Dale." She kissed me on the cheek and drove off. I walked inside. I had just saved a girl from an assailant and all I got was a 'men are jerks,' speech. God, how could I survive for a year without hope of a date? When I first walked into my bedroom I thought that I had somehow wandered into the wrong apartment by mistake. Nothing was familiar. But the room was the same. It was everything that was in it that was different. All the male clutter that had characterized my room since as far back as I could remember was gone. Everything was neat and tidy. But that wasn't what was strange. All my stuff was gone! My posters of football players and swimsuit models had been replaced by prints of nature scenes and angels! The cruddy sheets on my unmade bed were now replaced by a pink comforter, frilly pillows, and a teddy bear! There was a vase of dried flowers on my now neat desk and some dumb clown knick-knack on my window sill. There was no sign of my catcher's mitt, my fake executioner's axe or my pipe. Floral curtains covered the previously bare windows. I yanked open my closet. All my clothes and my hockey stick were gone. All that was left were the few outfits I had borrowed from Jenni. All my underwear was missing from my chest of drawers. In its place were some new pairs of panties in various colors. There was also a new makeup kit, a woman's razor, and a bag of cotton balls. Who had done this? I read the mailing label on one the fashion magazines that had mysteriously replaced my 'Sports Illustrateds.' Just as I thought, Jenni. As if on cue, she walked into the room. "What do you think? It took hours for me to change everything," she said happily, as if I would be proud of her efforts. I lost it. "What do I think? What do you think I think? Where's all my stuff?" "Relax. I put it in storage." "I will not relax! You had no right to do this! My room is the one place I can be myself and you destroyed it! It looks like a woman lives here now!" "That's the idea, silly. You're such a social animal, I knew it would only be a matter of time before you had friends over. You couldn't very well have them see a picture of Kathy Ireland on the wall or your jockstrap hanging on the door, could you?" "That's not the point! And you!" I yelled a