The Erogenous Education Of A Clueless Switchgirl free porn video

I would like to thank everyone who has read and enjoyed some of the little sex stories I post here. Your comments mean a lot to me. This one is the third Oatmeal Switch story I've posted, but it was supposed to be the first (I was hung up on something in it). I hope you all like it. [Edited for typos, grammar, some wording, lots of things, argh!] ~ "The Erogenous Education of a Clueless Switchgirl" by Rohmer Fan ~ I looked around at all the families who'd already started piling into the stadium. "Mine never went out to stuff like this," I thought. I waved at my girlfriend who was warming up with the other cheerleaders and she hopped over towards me. "Hey Rachel, I'll be in the stands near the top." I pointed to where in the bleachers I'd be sitting, a good spot to relax and enjoy the view. It was the second-to-last game of our High School's football season and we were playing Brook River High. I knew we were going to lose, but I still showed up for all of our games. I had a great reason to: cheerleader uniforms. "See you later, babe." Before getting too far away, my girlfriend turned back to me, gave me a kiss then said, "Tony, you are the hottest guy here," with a big smile. Was I "hot"? Maybe. Rachel was hot. Probably the best looking girl in our grade. A hot blonde. She always tied her blonde hair in a ponytail when she was cheerleading and I preferred it that way. It suited her free-spirited and easygoing personality along with her fair skin and bright blue eyes. We'd been dating now for four or five months, ever since she broke up with that dickhead senior on the baseball team. What he doesn't know is that I stole her from him while he was playing a tournament outside of Jacksonville. We were better together anyway, so as far as I was concerned it was cool. Other than cheerleading, Rachel was a huge slacker just like me. Actually, we didn't have a ton of stuff in common, but we had a lot of sex and liked some of the same movies. I got along with her mom, too. Aside from basketball I didn't really do much, and our season finished earlier in the year. I didn't have a part-time job like most of my friends and I didn't care too much about studying. I loved playing video games though, pretty much any kind of video game. Well, I preferred MMORPGs. Elder Scrolls Online was my recent favorite. ESO for short. I could write a blog about video games if I wanted to, I bet. My stepdad Chet constantly gave me crap for being a "slacker" and having a poor work ethic, but why would I want to work myself to death while I was still young? I have my Mom's old Subaru, which is big enough for me and Rachel to have sex in, and I either ate at my house or my girlfriend's every night. I couldn't think of anything more that I really wanted, except maybe a high-quality VR headset. Before kickoff, I got a text from my mom saying: "Where are u? Harold bday dinner. Come home." I sighed and leaned my head back. I forgot we were having a birthday party for my step-brother, Harold. This kind of stuff annoyed the hell out of me. Chet spoiled Harold when he came over every weekend and my mom was always on my case about spending more time with him. Harold wasn't so bad, but he always got quiet if I picked on him, like he was ignoring me, but that's just how I talk with guys. He's way too sensitive. The nerdy and antisocial type, I guess. Vegetarian, too. But we both liked most of the same video games, so I ended up hanging out with him every now and then. I got him into ESO a couple months ago, actually. Tonight I just resented how I had to drop everything I was doing just to hang out with him. I sent Rachel a text letting her know that I had to leave for a family thing then got in my car to go home. About halfway back, I stopped at a really crowded truck stop to use the bathroom and get some gas. ~ "Hey mom, Chet. Harold, happy b-day. Sorry I'm late." My family already had a table for four by the time I showed up at Pico Turquino, so I took the empty seat. This was Harold's favorite restaurant. I was a big fan, too. Great Cuban food and super hot waitresses. I think a couple of them were the owner's daughters. Pico Turquino was a tiny little place in downtown Arcadia that looked scary from the outside but was cozy on the inside. We went here almost every weekend after church since my mom and Chet got married. I guess we'd skip our after-church lunch here tomorrow since we were having dinner here tonight. Chet frowned, clearly upset that I'd forgotten the occasion. My step dad looked a little like Tom Selleck, but with beadier eyes, and he spoke with a thick southern accent. His hair always seemed covered in grease or sweat. I didn't hate him or anything, but he would never be "my dad." He owned some kind of plumbing supply factory, but I really had no idea what it was and didn't care. My mom was his secretary, that's how they met. She worked there and another job to pay the bills while she raised me. Chet and his ex-wife went through a messy divorce a few years ago, and right after that was over he and my mom got married. My real dad died when I was too young to even know what he looked like, other than photos and knowing that he was from Cuba. He died in a car accident. From what pictures I've seen, I definitely took more after him than my mom. My skin isn't too dark, but it was obviously "not white". My eyebrows are pretty thick and my hair and eyes are dark brown. Rachel said I looked, "Spanish or Moroccan." On the other hand, my mom was whiter than white and a blonde. "We're just glad you could make it. We're you out with Rachel?" my mom said. "Yeah, I was watching her cheer, but you know I love Pico Turquino." It was true that I did love the food, but I'd still rather be watching the cheerleaders. My mom smiled and said, "Rachel's a nice girl. Isn't she, Chet?" "Yep, very nice." My mom didn't have a disloyal bone in her body, so since I was her son, any girl I picked she would support me. I felt like deep down she probably wasn't a big fan of Rachel, though. Rachel looked like a rich preppy girl, but as soon as you heard her speak you thought, "wow, she doesn't give a damn." She was definitely a little trashy, but always managed to "get away with it." Nobody ever called her out for it. "Harold, what do you think of Rachel?" Harold didn't talk much, but when he did he sometimes sounded overly formal, like he was reading lines out of a play. The first time I met him I thought he was just a stuck up Arroyo Academy kid, because of the pretty serious private school he went to. Instead, he was just weird. He seemed like he was in a super-quiet mood today, birthday or not. To be honest, I kind of thought he was gay. He never talked about girls, or even paid any attention to Rachel when she came around while he was at our house, even though she liked teasing him or flirting with him, I guess. He just wore an expression that said, "okay, just get it over with." The gay thing was the only explanation that made sense. Harold first looked at me, then replied to my mother's question with, "She's fairly attractive, Jessica. I presume she's popular at her school. I think she has some serious self esteem issues." I chuckled. Harold's blunt reaction to things is something that I appreciated but doubt my mom and Chet did. And it always made me smile the way he said my mom's name, "Jessica." It sounded dismissive without being mean, like he was talking to a little kid. I loved my mom, but she was close minded about a lot of things, so she could be like a kid sometimes. It was impossible to have a real conversation with her. My mom smiled awkwardly in response as the waitress came by to take our order. ~ It was completely dark in the house when I woke up in a sweat, my stomach cramping in piercing pain. "Diarrhea," I thought, as I ran to the bathroom. I made it to the toilet just in time. At first I assumed it was food poisoning from Pico Turquino, since my step dad got food poisoning there once before, and groaned as my stomach cramped in a hundred places. I started shivering and shit some more. This was the worst diarrhea I'd ever had. I tried picking up my phone to play a game on it, and my hands were slippery with sweat. I was definitely going to call out of school tomorrow. Food poisoning like this seemed like a great reason to call out, but I hoped it didn't get bad enough so that I had to see a doctor. I groaned as even more came out of me. I thought, "there is no way I ate that much." I leaned back and looked between my legs at the white, red, and light brown stuff that the toilet was filled with and almost threw up. This is way over the top. "I'm going to have to wake someone up and go to the doctor," I thought. I flushed and then it started again. I had a headache now, too. Chills, intense sweating, headache, crazy diarrhea with blood and mucus in it. This was absolutely disgusting. I held my stomach and groaned. I bet Pico Turquino could get shut down for this. "Oh fuck," I heard myself say as it dawned on me. This sounded more like the Oatmeal Switch than food poisoning. "No, oh fuck no. No," I croaked. Please, not that. I was a man, goddammit. I looked down in the bowl and it was still mostly white and red with little bits of brown. It looked... like oatmeal. Kind of. The sweating was the biggest clue, though. The two of them together probably couldn't be anything else. Oh fuck, where did I get it? At the game? The restaurant? There were a ton of people in that truck stop bathroom. Who the hell knows. I thought about my girlfriend and my spot on the basketball team and actually felt myself tearing up. I didn't want to give up my life over this. There was no cure for the Oatmeal Switch and once you got it, that was it. Fuck! I didn't want to change into a girl. Oh god, I'd turn into a little kid first. That's how the Switch worked. You crapped your guts out for a week while you shrank into this weird looking younger version of yourself and then you slowly turned into the opposite sex for the next couple of weeks after that. We learned about it in school and they even had us watch a couple of movies about people with it. In the movies they always ended up turning gay. Fuck, ugh. Not gay, turning straight. Whatever. Maybe this wasn't the Switch. I'm not a doctor. It could just be a messed up stomach flu or some other weird disease or food poisoning. Still... it was really easy to give the Switch to somebody else during the early stages, so I should treat it as the worst case scenario until I knew for sure. I muttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," while my insides were being torn out. ~ While the 'switch counselor' my parents hired waited for me to answer her question, I played with my new tiny pink crotch-nub under a blanket in my strange little body. Dr. Nihle was a specialist in switch counseling, and she'd been coming at least once a day for the week or so since I'd caught the Oatmeal Switch. It turned out that at least a dozen people caught it in our neighboring county, and they'd given it to dozens more before the outbreak was contained. The CDC already traced it to the truck stop I used the bathroom at. One of the clerks there didn't realize she had it. It was really rare, but for some people they got it and it hid in their system for years before becoming active. Dumb luck. When my bowel movements, and my emotions, had finally calmed down that first night, I called my mom from the bathroom and told her to get Harold out of the house because I thought I'd caught the switch. Luckily, he didn't catch it. Nobody else was even close to 21 or under in the house, which was around the oldest you could be to get it. My stepdad completely freaked out at first, but he and my mom have been pretty supportive all in all. The first week was mostly a blur and I barely remembered Dr. Nihle being around. My weight dropped freakishly after I spent my nights crapping my guts out and my days sweating lakes of moisture. I now had the body of a 9 year old and my cock and balls were now just a small pinkish nub that I could pee out of. I already felt something changing right beneath it. I didn't want to actually look at it, but I couldn't take my hands off of it. I guess I was just wired that way or something. Like an itch I couldn't not scratch. Dr. Nihle gave me a look of anticipation and said, "Do you understand, Antonio? That this is only the start of your journey?" I nodded at her repeated question. The second week of the disease was spent entirely in your regressed child-sized body while your genitals and insides finished changing. It was setting the stage for the third week when you grew into a teenager of the opposite sex. I'm pretty sure Dr. Nihle was trying to make sure I understood that this was all temporary because a lot of people got depression or other sorts of problems during this period. It was when you were the most sensitive, mentally. I could tell when my medicine wore off that things got foggy, but luckily I had the prescriptions to help. "I'm glad the diarrhea is over." "That's the worst part, you know." Dr. Nihle was an older woman, maybe 40s, dressed in black slacks and a white blouse, with curly bright blonde hair in a bob. She looked like a teacher and was so patient with me that I actually found it annoying. "I thought the worst part was the third week?" Dr. Nihle shook her head. My voice sounded like a little kid's. It was a little kid's. I tried not looking at myself in the mirror because it was creepy. It was like looking at a kid-sized version of myself but with a head too big for my body. I looked like an alien. Rachel wanted me to take a picture for her but I refused. She also wanted me to call her so she could hear my little kid's voice, and I also said, "No fucking way." Rachel had been a big help, though. We texted a ton this past week. All my guy friends had sent me shit mocking me, like "always knew u were a pussy!" from Robbie. The other basketball teammates sent me a "get well soon" card that they all signed, but a couple of them sent me texts saying that they were all looking forward to seeing if I was going to be hot or not. Switchgirls had a reputation for being hot. They were always thin, at least. They also had a reputation for crazy behavior, like sluttiness, bi-polar shit, and sometimes suicide, but nobody sent me joke texts about those things. "The third week is mostly mental, Antonio. Your body grows, but a body is just a body. What really matters is what you think of it. Do you agree?" I was glad I no longer had headaches. Some of the questions Dr. Nihle asked would just make them worse, like this one. "I liked my body, though." "You liked it because you were used to it. Your mind and your body aren't two separate things, they're the same. As your body changes so will your mind. It's unavoidable." "No freaking way! I'm still me! Just because I catch some disease it doesn't mean I have to go around crying, wearing dresses, playing with baby dolls, painting my nails, uhhh... whatever girls do! I don't know!" That I was yelling but still only sounded like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum just made me more angry. "Antonio, there is no 'girl behavior' like you describe. Think about the way you were raised. You like sports, right? Do all guys have to be competitive and like sports?" I folded my arms and said, "No, obviously not." "So why do all girls have to like baby dolls and wearing dresses?" "I guess they don't. But, like, if it's a nerdy guy he gets picked on... I guess boyish girls get picked on, too? I don't know." "That might happen, sure. But just because a few people have a problem with something, doesn't mean you have to do what they think is right. Right?" She had a point there. I mean, there were some guys, like Harold, that just did whatever they wanted. I still kinda thought he was gay, and maybe he was, but I guess it didn't really matter as long as he was happy with himself. If I was going to be a girl, it just meant vagina, breasts, that sort of thing. I could still be a guy in every other way. I would be a badass girl like Vasquez in Aliens. That could be kind of okay. Ugh. The boobs, pussy, high-pitched voice, and tiny little body wouldn't be very badass, though. I sighed loudly. "I am way stressed out, doctor." "That's why I'm here. The Switch is scary and confusing for everyone that gets it. You're not alone, Antonio." I looked away from her. I wanted to argue with her about my being 'scared,' but she was right. I don't think there's a better word for it. ~ "WHATEVER YOU DO DON'T GET FAT" I'd been text messaging Rachel all morning. I had an insane appetite after the end of my second week and was telling her about all the food I was eating. Dr. Nihle suggested a lot of fiber, vegetables, and sweet potatoes. My mom had been cooking things for me and I was barely tasting them before shoving the food down my mouth. Whatever she cooked, I ate. I couldn't get full. When I told Rachel this, she spent a few thousand words telling me why being a fat girl was the worst possible outcome. "I'm not going to get fat." I replied. "The doctor said it's impossible while I'm growing like this." Dr. Nihle said that it was almost impossible for me to eat enough to end up overweight. It just didn't happen. I would most likely be underweight even if I ate nothing but mashed potatoes and junk food for a week. "well, it's my responsibility as your girlfriend to help" "you're still my girlfriend?" I just assumed she was being nice and keeping up with me. It didn't even occur to me that she'd want to stay with me as a girl. "lol did we break up?" "no.... but......" "trust me, I'm your girlfriend." "are you bi?" "lol maybe a little I have magic fingers yo" I sent a smiley at her reply. I stuck my finger all the way inside myself this morning. It was wet and felt pretty good. It made me start wondering what it would feel like in a few days. The week of being a child hadn't made me start liking the switch, but anything would be better than being a little kid. The idea of being a teenage girl seemed like a relief in comparison. I wasn't sure if Rachel was being 100% serious about being gay. She was never 100% serious about anything. It seemed to make sense that she would be into girls a little bit, at least. GIrls were hot and guys were gross, this fact hadn't changed no matter how different my body was. Or mind. Or both, or whatever. Rachel's warning against getting fat bothered me, in a way. I mean, when I was a guy I didn't really think about my weight, I was just always into basketball, which was a lot of exercise, so I guess I never had to worry about it. I ate whatever I wanted and never gained any weight. I think I took that for granted. Women though, they wore tight clothing all the time or stuff that showed a lot of skin. Ladies probably noticed any extra weight they put on right after gaining it because their clothes would fit differently. I don't know how that stuff works, but all the girls I knew were constantly talking about dieting. And then Dr. Nihle had told me a lot about periods, that your body changed while you were on them. Some women gained weight, sometimes your boobs got bigger or more sensitive, there were all these different things that I hadn't ever thought of before. According to Dr. Nihle, it might be three or four months before I got my first one after the Switch. Something about typical post-Switch effects along with some other hormonal things that weren't set in stone like 'growth spurts.' "hey do you gain weight when you're on your period?" I asked Rachel. "lol yeah and then ur friends say 'no u look ok' but u feel big as a house" I frowned. Rachel didn't come off as very self-conscious but I guess it was hard not to be. Women were judged on their appearances almost completely. I thought about some of the girls in my class that weren't hot, and I only remembered some of their names because they sat near me, or because we'd known each other when we were younger. I probably wouldn't even pay attention to them otherwise. I felt pretty guilty about this now. Would I be like them? Just an invisible ugly girl? I wasn't growing as much in height as Dr. Nihle and I hoped I would when we first charted out how my change would work. I was going to be a short, half-Cuban, invisible ugly girl that nobody cared about. Maybe I could still play sports or something. I could be one of those cool "sporty" girls that didn't have to be hot to be popular. The Vasquez type. I might be too short to play basketball, though. Probably even on the girls' team. I went outside the other day and took a couple of unsuccessful shots at my practice goal. It seemed so high up compared to when I was a tall guy. There were some other girls sports at my high school. I didn't' like softball but soccer was kind of fun. I texted Rachel, "I think I'm going to be a soccer dyke" "LOL THAT IS SO CUTE" she replied. I thought a lot about all the times Rachel and I had sex. She didn't seem very gay while we were doing that. Actually, she was the one who nearly tore my clothes off our first time. She had to be bi. I bet she would try to pressure me into a three-way with a guy eventually. Absolutely out of the question, even if he swore not to touch me. Well, if there was one thing I could be certain of with Rachel, it's that her lack of seriousness probably meant that she would only stay with me for as long as I was "fun." I guess it was kind of fun to be the "easygoing and open-minded girlfriend of a guy going through the Switch." I frowned. Still, it was nice that I at least had a friend to talk to through this. "LUV U" she texted. I knew she didn't mean it, but it made me feel good all the same. I couldn't say things like, "I love you" unless I really meant it. Rachel just threw the words around constantly. I replied "thanks" and then went back to playing ESO. I had a high-level Orc warrior that preferred using warhammers named "Borb." I was in the mood to smash things. Luckily, I saw that Harold was online. We played games together online sometimes when he wasn't busy studying, but I still wasn't comfortable using a mic. I opened the chat-log between us and it was entirely game- related, like I had never even caught the Switch. Well, except for when I first got online a few days ago he messaged me saying, "I've been reading about the Oatmeal Switch. Glad to see you're first week is over. I'm certain that's a relief. Will you be up long? I want to play some co-op Portal 2." I guess it's comforting that at least I know my relationship with Harold is almost exactly the same. The main difference being that for now, I'm the center of attention in the house. I sent him a message about taking his high-elf sorcerer 'Quietal' with Borb to Craglorn to smash some things. ~ I stared at my body in the bathroom mirror for half an hour. I had been doing nothing but eating food for two or three days and I'd grown over half a foot taller in that short amount of time. Today was the first time that I noticed something distinctly feminine other than the tiny line indicating where my new vagina was. The vagina was old news. I had hips now, like a real girl. Like, a tiny waist and then my hips distinctly went out a bit. I kept turning around and trying to look at my body from every angle. My shoulders and torso were thin, but my waist was even smaller. My butt didn't really stick out too much but my legs seemed thicker. My hair was down past my shoulders, but that happened to both girls and boys who got the Switch. You just grew a lot of hair. My face looked like a real girl's as well. The edges to my cheeks and jaw were soft and when I smiled at myself I immediately thought, "a cute chica." I was "cute" now. My skin pigment seemed lighter. I looked more "white" than before. I needed a tan, but then I also thought about how I liked Rachel better when she didn't have a tan. It made her skin look softer and sexier. Did I want to look soft and sexy? A badass like Vasquez would get a tan. I put my hands on my torso and there wasn't anything there. No muscle or anything. I felt like there could be something soft right below my nipples where my breasts would be growing, but I wasn't sure if I was imagining it or not. My nipples were a little sensitive but nipples are always sensitive, I think. When it came to breast development, Dr. Nihle said that what your mom looked like when she was a teen can be a good indicator of how you'll turn out. My mom's breasts didn't seem too big in her old photos. They were definitely there, though. My face and hair were still very latino looking. I was still taking after my father with my Cuban roots showing through. I had the same dark and sharp eyebrows I always had, though my eyes looked bigger now than they used to be. When I squinted, I looked kind of like a badass, but my normal look was "big eyed and cute." I sighed. The last few days I'd gotten to understand a little about what Dr. Nihle was talking about. This wasn't just a "disease," this was my body. It was up to me whether I would accept it or not. My decisions would affect my whole life, change how people treated me, and how I thought about myself. Something I'd been doing a lot of lately, when I wasn't eating or playing games, was sitting in my room and thinking about all the girls I went to school with. They all had different bodies, different styles of clothing, senses of humor, attitudes, personalities, desires, and everything else. I think I always thought of girls as all being "girls," like they all had the same mind. I was so fucking stupid. To prepare for all the physical changes I was going to go through, I had a lot of gray and white clothes to wear in all these different sizes. Mostly t-shirts and sweatpants that had been donated by my stepdad's church. He was Presbyterian, so my Mom and I converted to that from Catholic before she got married. We went as a family just about every Sunday. The exception was for holidays or if Mom and Chet decided to sleep in. I hated going to church and I was dreading it even more after the Switch. There were two reasons for this dread. The first was that I knew people would think I was some kind of deviant. The Switch had created a big mess with all the churches. A few of them even split over it, with some saying that you should just pretend it never happened and go with your birth sex and the other saying that if you stuck with your birth sex then you'd be gay which would be worse. It was just very confusing. My church just decided to not talk about it, so people with both opinions (and maybe crazier ones) would be silently judging me. It was just going to be uncomfortable. The second thing I was dreading about church was that I would have to wear a dress. My stepdad was adamant about this, despite me getting pissed and arguing. There was not a single woman that went to our church that did not dress "conservatively" and wear a dress or skirt. If it weren't for church and my idiot stepdad Chet, I'm pretty sure I could go my whole life without ever needing to wear a dress. But I gave in when Chet threatened to take away my gaming privileges over it. Dr. Nihle had given me a good perspective on it, afterwards. She said that Chet was trying to deal with this just like I was, and that I should expect that people would be confused and try to fit 'square pegs into round holes' when it came to gender. In other words, at least he was trying to make sense of it, in his own way. Dr. Nihle said for me to think of it like wearing a costume, like Halloween or something. I just thought, "I'm doing it for the gaming." I still didn't like the idea of it and I would definitely feel stupid wearing a dress, but it's not like it would kill me. On the other hand, the girly underwear actually wouldn't be a big deal for me. I already wore pretty tight briefs when I was a guy, and girls wore basically the same thing just tighter in the crotch. I mean, I wasn't going to wear "panties," they would be "briefs for girls." I already looked online for them. Plus, I think I can get away with sports bras most of the time. Some of them look kind of cool and even have cellphone pockets. I read that if you wear them too much they'll flatten your boobs, so that could be good if mine grow too big. When I told the Dr. about this plan she said that I should get at least one "real" bra because of comfort, and I trusted her advice. I never felt like Dr. Nihle was trying to push me in one direction or the other regarding femininity or masculinity. She always talked about how this was like pressing "restart" and it was open for me to grow in whatever direction felt natural. After the Switch ran its course, I could even get on testosterone to transition back into a guy. By law I had to wait at least four years after the Switch, though. According to Dr. Nihle, there were a lot of reasons for this (she gave me a pamphlet) but that even after four years occasionally people transitioned back. However, it was extremely rare. So anyway, underwear is no big deal, but the "wear a dress to church" thing was going to be miserable. ~ "Antonio, are you still scared?" I sighed. Was I scared? No. "I'm not scared. I think I'm pissed." She nodded. "That's understandable. It's a violation. In a way, this disease violates you like a rape. I try and treat those who have had it as rape survivors." I raised my eyebrows. Dr. Nihle never told me what she thought about me or the disease, she always just asked me questions. "How many people have you worked with? People like me?" "Dozens. Maybe a hundred." She smiled. "Were they scared?" She was quiet for a second and then said, "Some were scared. In the beginning, a lot people weren't nearly as accepting of those who had the disease as they are now. Many were in denial that their lives wouldn't change. Many lashed out in a lot of ways when they had that rug of denial pulled out from under them. You have sympathy and empathy from others to comfort you, Antonio. I worked with some people who had nothing. Or worse than nothing, when people feared them and hated them for what they represented. Abuse was a terrible but common thing. Things have changed for the better, but It's still a concern for me. I worry more about emotional abuse than violence these days." "Like, they got beat up?" She looked sad. "Sometimes. Remember, I will never repeat anything you say during our sessions to anyone else. Your mother, stepfather, anyone. Feel free to tell me if you're suffering from abuse in any way and I will do my best to help you." "Yeah. I can't imagine that happening." She smiled. "That's really good to hear. It is getting better, but some sufferers of the disease still get it into their minds that society will fear and hate them. It's hard to blame them, though. The disease does so much damage..." The room was quiet. I felt like I was really getting some truth out of her. Maybe it took her a while to feel comfortable with a patient. There was something I had been obsessing over and hadn't talked to her about. I really felt like I could open up to her right now. "Dr. Nihle. The idea of sex... with... it seems so gross. I can't imagine that I would want to do that. I mean, I don't hate gay guys or anything, but the thought of it is just..." She nodded. "If you were switching from being female to male, you would have a higher chance of completely changing sexual orientation. Individuals who experience a male to female switch have a much broader spectrum of sexual attraction, much like women in general, if several gender studies are correct." I folded my arms and said, "but it's still a change." She smiled. "There's no way you can go through what you're going through and not change, Antonio. Sex, gender, and physical attraction are powerful, both socially and physically. It goes to the center of the question 'who am I?' My whole reason for going into this line of work is because I think it's the most important question we have about ourselves. What makes us tick." Before the switch I hadn't even thought about how much of my identity was tied up in my sex. But now that I had a little perspective, I had been obsessed with it. Guys sports, guy clothes, guy behavior with friends, girlfriends, at school. I was acting like "a man." All of that felt so distant now. It might as well be a year ago instead of a couple of weeks. I guess I could act the same way now, but I thought about the "cute chica" I looked at in the mirror this morning and it made me feel silly. Maybe it's dumb that we have those standards and I should rebel against them, be the Vasquez badass. Maybe it's the other way and acting "like a man" is just dumb and I never realized it before. "Dr. Nihle, y'know I think I agree with you. I think about how I acted before last week and it seems strange. Like I was a different person. But it was still me. That's all I know." She chuckled and said, "Antonio, I'm going to be here for your whole switch and a little bit afterwards. I promise you that the new perspective on life that you're just now experiencing is only the beginning of a grand journey." She'd talked about how it was a "journey" before, but I never really thought about the word until now. I looked at her and said, "A journey? To become a girl?" "Well, the first thing you might need to work on is the attitude that being a girl is a bad thing. You probably think that they're weak compared to guys, right?" I shrugged. "I mean, they're softer and less muscular. Mostly smaller, I guess?" "There's some truth to that, but as far as differences go it's a relatively small one that we put too much emphasis on. But, to answer your question, 'is it a journey to become a girl,' my reply would be 'yes and no.'" I really liked Dr. Nihle, but she could be pretty vague sometimes. Still, I was catching on. "Right, I get it. It's a journey to rediscover what gender means to me. I'm less attached to things that are expected of guys or girls, so... is that about right?" Dr. Nihle smiled and nodded. "Have you thought about your name change?" Dr. Nihle told me that changing my name was an important step in recognizing and accepting that I was a new and different person. "I haven't really thought about it. Rachel brings it up a lot, but she wants all these girly names. I haven't heard anything yet that felt right." "You'll figure that out on your own, Antonio. It doesn't have to be a feminine sounding name, but please keep an open mind about feminine names as well." I still thought of feminine things as being "bad," but I was trying to be more open-minded. They weren't "bad," just different. Part of me wishes that I had met Dr. Nihle before I got the Switch. I think she could have taught me things when I was a guy, too. ~ "I have boobs." I was really looking forward to getting Rachel's reply to that text. Actually, I had small boobs yesterday but today they were much bigger, or at least something I could grab onto. It was like they grew in overnight. Compared to all the pubic hair which I didn't like the look of, they were a more pleasant change. I already started shaving everything under my arms and above my pussy. I just didn't like the look of being hairy in those places. When I told Dr. Nihle about this she tried to hide her disappointment, but it was there. She said that I was still holding onto some old preconceptions about what females needed to look like from when I'd been a guy, but she didn't talk me out of it. Instead, she said that the most important thing was that I feel comfortable with the changes and if that meant shaving then that was okay. I was turning around in circles in front of the bathroom mirror again. I wanted to see myself from every angle. I had a gigantic butt now and huge hips while every other part was thin except for my boobs. I was still really short. I guess "petite" is the word. I think I inherited that from my short Dad as well. When I was a guy I was one of the tallest in the school, like the guys on my Mom's side of the family. I measured myself today and came up to about 5' 3". I had to get on my tip-toes to look in cabinets in the kitchen now. Dr. Nihle was sure that today or tomorrow would be my last day of changing. It 'felt' like I was done, but I couldn't explain why. She said that when it was done, my body would 'tell me.' She still had to come and give me my official final checkup. She was licensed by the CDC to do everything from a paperwork standpoint. "wow I want to see ur boobs. when are you done?" Rachel replied. I half smiled. She and my mom were supposed to take me out shopping when I was finished growing. I was looking forward to seeing Rachel again. She still hadn't given me a straight answer on whether she was my "girlfriend" for real or not. I wasn't really pushing for an answer from her, though. Maybe I was avoiding it. Actually, I tried not to think about sex. I still thought girls were hot, but I was scared I might start liking guys any moment, which freaked me out. How would that happen? Dr. Nihle said it would just be something I started noticing, but she was vague about it. She was really paranoid about me getting too much anxiety about that aspect of the Switch. Every time I brought it up she said things like "wide spectrum of attraction" which made it sound like "anything goes." Everything else I read about the Switch told me the opposite, though. Most of the online testimonials said it was like, "Wham!" when you started getting those new feelings. The thought of doing anything with a guy still repulsed me, so I felt a little safe. I'd probably at least think, "maybe it's worth a try" at this point if I was going to go in that direction. I'd played with myself a little bit in the tub. I could give myself an orgasm if I did it for long enough, but it felt like it took forever compared to when I was a guy, and half the time I gave up before finishing. It wasn't the same. When I jerked off as a guy I wanted to do it constantly, but I only did it as a girl every few days or so. I guess I just had a really low sex drive in comparison. From what I read on the internet, most Switch people were the opposite and got kind of sex crazy afterwards. I was turning into an asexual switchgirl. I completely dried off from my bath a while ago, and had been in here looking at myself in private for a while. I couldn't tell if this was just from the shock of seeing a naked girl and not being used to seeing "myself" like that, or if I was just vain. Even without makeup I looked cute or even hot. My face was so girly, with big brown eyes and dimples, that I had to admit that I really liked smiling at myself. I took a lot of selfies, but kept them to myself. Rachel said that she would never let me see her without makeup, so I had no idea what she looked like beneath it. I still missed being a guy, but one thing that was amazing was having boobs. I liked squeezing them. They were a little more than a handful. My nipples were kind of dark and small, completely different from Rachel's large light pink ones. My legs were shaved, which felt nice. At first I didn't want to but after getting used to shaving under my arms and crotch, it made sense to keep going with the legs. They felt pretty great this way. I liked the smooth skin feeling. I replied to Rachel about our plans today. "dr. will be by at 11, how about you come by a little later?" Rachel replied: "Ok. do you have something to wear out?" "Sweatpants and a T-Shirt." "aww. I'm bringing stuff for you to try." I thought about the kinds of clothes that Rachel wears and replied, "NO." ~ Rachel stared at me the entire car ride to the shopping center. She stared at me for a while when she first got to the house, too. The only thing she could managed to say was "oh my god" over and over, which made my mom laugh. I was shocked when I saw her too, but for different reasons. She was way taller than me now while I had towered over her before. It was similar with my mom and Chet, but I was used to that because of how much time I'd already spent with them. The old pair of jeans she brought for me to wear despite my objection, were huge on me and I had to roll up the legs and tighten a belt to keep them up. I did like them better than sweatpants, at least. My boobs were smaller than hers, but because I was tiny in general we looked about the same proportions, not that anyone could tell under my sweatshirt. Now I was sitting in the back of my Mom's Volvo SUV with Rachel still gawking at me. I looked at her and huffed, "Hey, am I that freaky?" The first thing she said to me after the long stunned silence was, "You're actually really cute!" then "You need a haircut. You're like a different person. I kind of expected a girly version of you, but you barely even look like you used to at all. It's crazy. You're tiny, pale, and cute." I had to agree with her. It was a complete change. I looked like I could be a cousin of my old male self, but even "sister" would be a stretch. "Sometimes I feel like a pervert looking at myself." My mom pretended not to hear that but Rachel laughed. Rachel got a serious look on her face and said, "You know, with a nice haircut, some makeup, and some cute clothes you are going to be so hot. I thought you were going to look like a girly guy and shopping was going to be hard, but everything is going to look good on you." "No makeup." I frowned. "Just give it a try. You will like it once you see how hot you look." She turned back towards the road with a victory grin. I could already tell that I was going to be disappointing her a lot during this outing. The haircut came first, which was quick and painless. I asked the stylist to "take it all off" but my Mom and Rachel convinced me to at least make it look decent if it was short. They left my hair long enough to pull around behind my ears. I would have been happier with it shorter, but I had to admit that a quick look in the mirror confirmed that it looked good on me. When I was a guy I let my hair grow out to about the same length during middle school. No big deal there. I didn't have to have a military cut. Afterwards, we decided to go to Macy's where I stood firm on the "no makeup" policy, but Rachel bought some for me as a gift for if I ever changed my mind. I was pretty happy to find a bunch of stuff that was girl-sized but looked like guy clothes. T-shirts that weren't tight and made of thick cotton material, loose fitting cargo shorts that went down past my knees, a ballcap, a windbreaker, and some boots and sneakers, all blue and black or brown colored. It was almost exactly like my regular "guy" wardrobe. When I put most of it on, I looked sort of like a 12 or 13 year old boy with a really girly face. This bored Rachel out of her mind. "Your butt looks huge in those shorts, Tony." My mom frowned at Rachel and she shrugged in response, "I'm his girlfriend, I can say that kind of stuff!" 'His' girlfriend? I sighed. One thing that was going to be great about these boyish clothes is that they'll probably hide how much my butt and hips moved when I walked now. I tried stiffening my movements to keep it to a minimum, but it was still annoying me. Most people looking probably didn't think twice about it, but I had a little bit of a complex. The baggy clothes hid how small my waist was, which probably went a long way towards hiding the swiveling. Rachel rubbed my head like I was a little kid and said, "how about a bathing suit? You can't wear a guy's bathing suit. Trust me, that would be weird." I was ready for her with this one. I'd been doing some online shopping for girls' bathing suits so I knew exactly what to get. "Sure, let's go get a girl's swimsuit." We headed to the bathing area and Rachel went directly for the bikinis, like I expected her to. I walked right past her to the one-piece suits and found a navy blue one that would cover most of my butt. There were baggy girl's swimming trunks, but for some reason this little bit of girl-stuff was acceptable to me. "Well, okay!" Rachel was satisfied, at last. I tried it on for her and she was further placated, saying that my body looked, "totally hot" in it even if it was like her "grandma's swimsuit." It was hard for me to argue. I did look pretty hot in the bathing suit, especially my butt. When I was a guy, I would have turned my head to look at it. Her second favorite thing was when I was trying on bras. She was fascinated with my boobs, and wanted to know exactly what size they were and the perfect brand of bra that fit. Dr. Nihle was right, regular bras were more comfortable than the tight sports bras. My size was kinda small, 22B, and I got plain white ones. The "panty-briefs," which I already wearing since my mom had bought me a few pairs a couple days ago, were an easy sell to Rachel, too. Her response was, "boyshorts are totally hot." My mom wanted me to stick around in Macy's and buy some things for me to wear to church, but I just told her to buy whatever. I didn't want to know. I just said, "buy something that will get Chet off my back," but I added, "no flowers and crap," before walking away. Rachel wanted to go to Hollister's to see if they had something on sale. She did this every time we dropped by the mall, I used to feel like it was my duty as her boyfriend to put up with it. I watched Rachel as we walked into the store and thought, "do lesbian girlfriends have to do this boring crap too?" She was wearing very girly clothes, which I was taking notice of a lot more lately. It was a pink skater dress today with some white corked heels. I still wasn't entirely used to her being a taller than me, and the heels made it worse. She spent a few minutes looking through the sale track while I fidgeted, clearly bored. There wasn't anything in here I would ever wear. Eventually Rachel let me know that she noticed I was bored with a loud sigh, then said, "Okay, just five more minutes." Not too long after that, Rachel leaned against a table of clothes, glared at me and folded her arms. She poked me in the arm and said, "Are you going to still go by Antonio? That's a very mannish name, you know." I nodded. "I've been thinking about it a lot. I don't feel like a 'Antonio' anymore, so yeah I'm going to change it. I thought about taking a short version of Antonio like 'Toni' but with an 'i'." "Ew. I don't like Toni. I already call you that." "Yeah, I guess I'm not a big fan either. Dr. Nihle said I should consider feminine sounding names. She said it might help with the transition." "You're cool with that? "Yeah, I guess." When I look in the mirror and think about guy names for the girl I see, none of them feel right. "I think you'd make a nice Hazel or Amber because of your eyes and skin." My mom also suggested Amber but I didn't like it. "I don't like those. They sound cheesy. Like stripper names." "Hmm. Any family names? I think my middle name's from my greatgrandmother." "My grandmother's name on my Dad's side's was Elena." I looked kind of like an "Elena," I thought. Her eyes grew wide and she said, "That is perfect!" "Elena Rios does sound pretty good, doesn't it?" It sounded good to my ears, but I didn't feel feminine enough for the name. When I was looking through some old family photos, I saw a picture of my grandma Elena. My mom and I agreed that I looked almost exactly like her after the Switch. Rachel was really happy and kept repeating my name to herself. When my mom showed up, she and Rachel talked about my grandmother Elena while Rachel stood in line to buy a few things she found on sale. My mom offered to buy them for her since she came along and helped me find things. I wandered around saying, "Elena" under my breath. The name was definitely growing on me. I walked a few feet away and stared at a sepia-toned picture of a guy and a girl on the beach. The guy was slim but built and the girl was really thin and had on a bikini. She was around my size and had similar dark colored hair and eyes. She looked like she could be an "Elena." She was laughing while he had his hands around her hips. There was something really sexy about the picture. I bet she was thinking he could just pull her bikini aside and have sex with her right there on the beach. "Hey, what are you looking at?" Rachel popped up beside me out of the blue. "This picture, I guess." "Mhm. It reminds me of when we went to the beach last month with my parents." My mom was finishing checking out and walking towards us, but before she got near I asked, "Did you ever just want me to just do you right there on the beach?" She smiled and leaned down towards my ear to whisper, "Like, the whole time." ~ "I know this may sound strange to some of you, but I would like to start the evening with an exercise that I have found useful over the years for setting the tone. I want each one of you to introduce yourselves to Elena, and Elena, I want you to try and respond formally. It will feel a little silly, but that's part of it. Okay?" We all nodded. Everyone in my family was sitting around the living room with Dr. Nihle. She'd gotten some one-on-one time in with Harold, Chet and my mom over the past couple of days, but this Saturday morning she wanted us all to sit together and have a group chat about my Switch. She invited Rachel, but she sent a text about an hour ago saying she was going to sleep in. It was about 10 AM, and Rachel liked sleeping in on the weekends. The doctor smiled and said, "So, I'll start. Elena, my name is Dr. Nihle. It's a pleasure meeting you." I smiled back and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Nihle." I knew that she was doing this more for my family's benefit than my own. None of them were really used to the idea of calling me "Elena" or thinking of me as a different person than I was before. According to Dr. Nihle, it was good for me to be surrounded with people who accepted that I was "different" because it would help me ease through my own transition. My mom spoke up afterwards. She was trying the hardest to be accepting and open-minded, but I think she was having a really hard time in a lot of ways. I found her stuttering sometimes between "he" and "she" or "Antonio" and "Elena." I saw a slight look of embarrassment flash across my mom's face before she said, "It is very nice to meet you, Elena." "It is very nice to meet you as well, mother." Everyone smiled or chuckled at this, except Harold. He had a very serious look on his face, but that was typical. I was starting to like the way my voice sounded. I recorded myself talking a little bit yesterday. My voice was highpitched but not nasal. Before it seemed like a mumble, but now it sounded clean and clear in my ears. I bet I could do tongue twisters more easily now. My mom seemed to be getting into this and looked at Chet. He folded his arms across his chest and said, "Nice to meet you, Elena." He was being a good sport but you could tell he didn't think much of this activity. The only pleasant thing that I'd experienced with Chet since I caught the Switch was him saying that he wouldn't bother me about getting a job anymore, as long as I kept my grades "decent." I wasn't going to get a job until I absolutely had to, but it was nice of him to stop bringing it up at least. I responded even more formally than I had with Dr. Nihle or my mom. "I am ever so pleased to make your acquaintance, stepfather." This time Harold made a small noise as if entertained. Harold raised his hand before speaking then looked me right in the eyes and said, "Elena. It is very nice meeting you." "It is very nice meeting you as well, Harold." Harold's mom dropped him off at our house Friday afternoon after he got out of school. His reaction to me was strangely flippant. Unlike Rachel's shock, the first thing he said to me was, "I bought the new Witcher 3 DLC if you want to try it out this weekend." I just responded with "sure, thanks." I don't think he was completely oblivious. He probably thought it would be rude to comment on how I looked. He was a nice guy like that. The polar opposite of my guy friends at school. "Do you all understand why this exercise is important? Can anyone take a guess?" Harold raised his hand again and said, "It's a useful reminder that Elena is a different person now, but as far as I'm concerned you don't have to worry. I barely recognize any of 'Antonio.'" Before Dr. Nihle could comment, I made a crooked smile and said, "I'm still me, you know. I'm not a clone or an imposter." "I'm not even talking about the physical differences. You have different facial expressions and body language. Maybe you don't notice it because you have a limited perspective. As far as I can tell, you're a totally new person. Your reactions to people are different." He squinted at me. "I'm afraid it is difficult for me to put into words, but you also don't feel like a stranger either. It's an odd mix." Chet spoke up saying, "Harold, I don't get it, son. It's just a body, thing, right? Anton-sorry Elena's still got all the old memories. Hell, it's only been a couple of weeks." Harold looked at his dad and shrugged as if saying, "it's not worth my time explaining." Dr. Nihle smiled and said, "Actually, I think I understand what Harold is saying. He is acknowledging that due to the disease, Elena's personality and genetic makeup has undergone a radical shift, but she is still familiar to him." Harold nodded. I said, "This is something I've been trying to understand about myself, is that while I'm a new person, that new person is being built with old parts and new parts. It's complicated." My mom smiled awkwardly at this. Chet rubbed his temples but nodded as if he understood. Harold kept quiet for a second and said, "Elena, are you going to be gay or straight?" My mom and Chet both made sounds like they wanted to object to his question like "oh!" and "umm" but Dr. Nihle formed a coherent sentence before either of them could. "Sexuality is fluid generally, and even more so for people who've undergone the Switch. It is best that Elena not feel pressured in any direction, but rather discover those needs for herself." Again, Harold spoke up. "I understand that there are many people with non-binary sexuality, but most people seem to fall into more specific categories. It's good not to pressure Elena, but isn't it most likely that she'll end up liking either guys or girls? Therefore, isn't pressure to be non-binary also to be avoided?" Dr. Nihle smiled at Harold but I suspected a twinge of condescension in her voice when she replied, "The most important thing is that her family accept her no matter what she chooses." I chuckled and said, "I still like girls, Harold. I'll write you an official notice if that changes and then draw you a chart of my sexual attraction spectrum." He kept a straight face for a second and then laughed. When Harold laughed, which was rare, it was kind of a bellow. For a nerdy guy, he had a really deep voice. For the rest of the family session, Harold and I occasionally shared looks as if in on the same secret joke: that this was mostly for my mom and Chet. Dr. Nihle mostly went over what kind of emotional and physical changes I'd gone through and how best they could all help me. I hoped that some of this would get through to mom and Chet, but I was glad that at least I didn't have to worry about Harold understanding. Harold seemed to 'get it,' much better than Rachel who might as well be on another planet. Truthfully, I was glad that she slept in. ~ "All rise for our morning prayer." The preacher wasn't too old, maybe late forties. He kept looking at me which was making me feel uncomfortable. I had my arms crossed in front of me like I was holding onto myself for dear life. Dr. Nihle's advice about "pretending that I was wearing a costume" was only getting me so far. The dress that my mom got me was plain and white, which was a relief. I think a part of me expected her to get something with flowers on it or that it would be pink. I guess she was pretty considerate. The neckline showed most of my clavicle but was very conservative. My arms and shoulders were bare and the waist and torso were tightly fitted or elastic. It had a zipper in the back that my mom helped me with. The ruffled skirt wasn't short but only went right past my knees, so you could still see my lower calves. In a lot of ways, it was plain and inoffensive. The tight elastic part went a few inches down past my waist so you could make out the general shape of the top of my butt if you wanted to, but that was the most unconservative part. To be honest, it was more comfortable than my usual undershirt, plus dress shirt, plus tie, plus dress pants, plus belt, plus etc. church wear and I couldn't help but think, "not the ugliest thing in the world to look at" when I checked myself out in the mirror before we left. However, there were some girly things about it that were a bit much, other than the fact that it was a damn dress. The neckline and the edge of my skirt were fringed with lace. There was a small white bow right on the small of my back, too. I refused to wear earrings or a necklace, but I relented when it came to the girly white socks and white shoes with gray trim, which had a slightly elevated heel. It was just enough for me to notice, but I didn't have any trouble getting around in them. It was like wearing a pair of men's dress shoes. The preacher continued, "Now everyone please bow your heads, hold hands, and I'll lead you in prayer." My mom, Chet, Harold and I were sitting near the back of the church, which had only been built around ten years ago, so it looked new and modern. Especially so compared to the old Catholic church my mom and I went to when my dad was still alive. I was standing between my mom and Harold. I uncrossed my arms and then reached out for their hands. Harold's completely engulfed mine. I craned my neck to look up at him and give him an awkward smile. It felt weird to be holding hands with him. He cocked an eyebrow as if to say, "yes, it is weird" then leaned his head forward and closed his eyes. I did the same. Harold and I barely got any sleep last night because we stayed up until four or five AM playing video games, mostly Elder Scrolls Online. He brought his gaming laptop into my bedroom where my desktop was, which we'd done dozens of times before. We started new characters. I picked a female dark elf battlemage and he chose a male wood elf ranger. I named my character Vasquez. I was really in the mood to watch a girl being a badass. I wasn't paying attention to the minister's prayer until he got to the part where he usually called out specific people in need among the congregation. The minister warned me ahead of time when I arrived that he would say something about my "condition" and that he had been reading about it and asking the Lord for guidance since he first heard I'd been "affected." Everyone else seemed to be deliberately ignoring me before service started. I guess it was awkward for them. I didn't believe in God, not really. I guess you could say I was spiritual, but organized religion seemed fake to me. I kept this opinion to myself, even among my friends. Rachel and Robbie were Christians, and I'm pretty sure most of the people I went to school with were too. Harold was atheist, but he told me that he didn't like talking about it. "As most of you know or have heard, the Moone family is going through a trying period right now," that was us. My stepdad's last name was Moone and my mom had taken it. I kept my dad's original last name, Rios, but I was still part of "The Moone family." I could feel my mom holding her breath and she tightened her grip on my hand. She was about as religious as Chet but also had a complex as far as this minister went. His opinion held a lot of weight with her. It made me nauseous that she cared so much about what this idiot thought. "I know a lot of us find the Switch disease to be abhorrent, but take care not to confuse the victim with the abuser. We should welcome Elena Rios, who was once Antonio Rios, into our fold and treat her as part of our family." I felt my grip tightening on both of the hands I was holding and consciously tried to relax. I hated getting this kind of attention and I resented that this man had any say in how or why I was accepted. Still, it could be worse. There were some murmurs of "amen" after the preacher said this, but he continued. "I told Elena when she arrived today, a beautiful child of God as all who have seen her can attest, that I had been reading and praying for guidance, but I am afraid the good book says little that pertains to this very modern affliction. But it is not we who are going through this confusing and torturous trial, it is Elena. I believe we should love her no matter how she chooses to live. As Jesus said, 'love thy neighbor as you would love yourself.' Amen. Now let us pray for Bertha Caldwell, shut-in from a bout of hip surgery." And so on. At the end of service it felt like half the congregation came up to me and hugged me or said that they would be praying for me. Nobody got into specifics, though. Nobody said, "I hope you stay celibate" or "get married to a man and have kids" or "stick with women." Nobody wanted to start down that road and the preacher had been vague enough to let everyone feel their version of what was right was fine. We'll see how nice everybody is when I show up with Rachel, hand in hand. We drove directly from church to Pico Turquino, which I was dying to eat at again after weeks of not getting to. It would be too far out of the way for me to go home and change first, so I just went in my dress. If the outbreak had been smaller at that truck stop, I probably would have become a minor local celebrity because of the Switch, but I was one of a few local people who'd caught it and so I was still pretty anonymous. Nobody looked twice at us when we got our table. During lunch, my mom asked if I was ready to start back school tomorrow and if I was going to be joining any sports teams. I lied and said, "Yeah, school will be no big deal." Truthfully, I wasn't looking forward to going back to school. I was dreading it. But it was something I wanted to go ahead and get over with rather than procrastinating. As for sports, I would have to wait until the fall during my senior year to join any teams. To that question I replied, "No sports for now, but I want to stay active. Maybe join the Y and start swimming some." Harold looked at me with an "oh" expression and said, "My mom has a premium membership at the Aquatic center. You can save money and come with me, if you want. I swim before school three days a week." I nodded and said, "Okay, thanks. Maybe I can start later this week?" "How about Wednesday? I can drop by at a quarter to 7 then get you back home to your car at 7:45. I don't mind getting up a little bit earlier to come get you, just let me know when you want to do it." "Sounds good." I replied. I had no idea that Harold swam so much. I guess it made sense. He was in pretty good shape for a guy who just played video games and studied all the time. I noticed it even more now that I was so much smaller than he was. The idea of getting up that early to go swimming didn't appeal to me, but if Harold could do it I could too, dammit. ~ "Morning." "Morning. Thanks for picking me up." Harold was already waiting for me in his black Honda Accord when I walked out of the house at 6:45 AM. I had a bag with a towel and underwear to change into at the Aquatic center after my swim. I was wearing my bathing suit under my T-shirt and shorts. I didn't have any problem waking up and getting ready. I was pretty excited about it. I