Life Out Of Joint - Chapter 4/7: The Morning After free porn video

LIFE OUT OF JOINT by Crazy Baron Chapter 4/7 -- The Morning After Synopsis: Although the Halloween party is over, Mike and the others have to deal with the fallout and being stuck in their costumes, at least for the time being. However bizarre their situation, is that all there is to it, or does the rabbit hole go deeper still? ***** I opened my eyes and realized that the room was already full of sunlight. I had slept in again; it was becoming a habit. I completely ignored the sensations that waking up in a female body brought to me, those very same sensations that had both scared and annoyed me before. I knew they would be there, regardless of what I thought of them, so I had decided not to think about them at all. For the first time, my strategy actually seemed to be working. It was not worth spending energy to wonder whether or not I was getting too comfortable in this new physical form and whether or not it was necessary to suppress every single sexual thought that crossed my mind. Instead, I could focus on more important issues, and right there and then nothing was more important than Mandy's pending visit. This could be the final day of my life as a girl, and maybe I'd wake up as a man the very next morning! Knowing that filled me with excitement, even though I was simultaneously worried that my hopes might prove groundless. It was conceivable, however unlikely, that Mandy would be unable to do anything, and I'd have to live like this from now on. In any case, I was certain that my destiny would be determined that day. I got up, padded to the upstairs bathroom, washed up, brushed my teeth and hair carefully and changed my clothes. As before, Kate or Mom had left some suitable items of clothing on the railing of the staircase, and I promptly picked them up and put them on. In a few moments I was wearing a fresh pair of white panties, a bra, white socks, blue jeans, a top and a black knitted shirt with long sleeves. Finally I tied my hair up in a loose ponytail (I preferred it that way) with a scrunchie borrowed from Kate, put on a pair of sneakers and turned around to go downstairs. It wasn't until this point that I realized how casually I had done all that; not even the bra had caused much trouble this time. There no longer seemed to be anything unusual whatsoever about donning and wearing women's clothes! However, I simply shrugged it off and walked down the stairs. Perhaps I was mentally turning into a girl, but with any luck, I would be a man again by tomorrow. As long as I didn't develop an urge to keep dressing this way after the restoration of my original sex, everything would be fine. The others were awake, judging from the lively chatter and the scent of fresh coffee, toast and fried eggs coming from the kitchen. Jake and Kate were both sitting at the table, and Jake was telling her a joke I had heard numerous times before. He seemed to be wearing the same outfit he had worn to the party, a light, pale pink fluffy sweater and dark-colored jeans. He had omitted the necklace, though. As I walked in, he was just finishing his story. "...and then the guy looked down and said, 'This Army stuff really sucks. I bet there's no bicycle in the barn either!'" "Morning," I said to them both. "Good morning," Kate replied. "Want some toast and eggs? These are still warm, compliments of Jake." "I thought I might help," Jake said modestly. "And help she really did," Kate told me. "We've been making breakfast together and having some girl talk. Mornings are rarely this much fun for me." "That's nice," I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Jake. I watched him out of the corner of my eye and tried to see if Kate's choice of pronoun had caused a reaction in him, but he was at least seemingly oblivious to being categorized as a woman. "Where's Mom, by the way?" I continued after receiving a plate full of delicious food and a badly needed cup of tea. "Oh, she went to see Grandpa," my sister said casually. "She promised she wouldn't be long, you know, with the Rankinses stopping by today and all." "What? What did you say?" "Oh, you didn't know? They're passing by and decided to pay us a visit." "Shit! Are they planning to stay for the night or something?" "No; they need to be somewhere else by tomorrow. It'll be just a quick visit, that's all." "Shit, anyway. I wasn't looking forward to seeing them right now." "You never exactly look forward to seeing them, Mike." "Can't argue with that." The Rankins couple belonged to the vast ranks of our family relatives. To be more accurate, Mr. Eric Rankins was my father's second cousin, a tall, quiet man in his early 60s. He and his wife--a short and scatterbrained babbler who seemed to be in a constant motion, always fussing with this and that--had two adult children who had long since left home, and the retired couple liked to travel around the country in their motor home. My father and Eric often went hunting together when they had the chance. The Rankinses were lovable yet slightly tedious people, especially Mrs. Rankins, whose energy and endless talking tended to wear everyone out. Since I was mentally near exhaustion after the previous half a week and still trapped in a female body, I was anything but excited at the prospect of meeting them. "Scott's not up yet, am I right?" I asked, changing the subject. I liked to eat first and worry about the Rankinses later. "Of course she's not!" Kate chuckled. "Not with that partying. But if you want to see something really cute, tiptoe to the guest room and take a look at her. She's sleeping so peacefully and she has this tiny smile on her lips." "Sleeping soundly is no wonder after last night," I commented, "but I bet he won't feel like smiling when he wakes up to a massive hangover. He'll be groggy for the rest of the day and hungry as a wolf." "There's plenty of food to go around. Feeding her won't be a problem." At this point, I could no longer help but ask Kate, "How come you keep referring to Scott as 'she'? We're still talking about our male cousin, aren't we?" "Because Scott is a she right now," came her reply. "So are you and Jake, by the way. Actually, it's weird enough that I have to call you guys by your male names when the character names would fit so much better, never mind saying 'he' and 'him' when I'm talking about one of you." "If it's that bad," Jake said, smiling, "I guess you can call me Willow." "Yay, that's great!" Kate exclaimed to Jake with playfully exaggerated enthusiasm. "Now we can really bond as friends! Come on, Mike, why won't you join the club too? Be Buffy for us, will you?" "Thanks, but no thanks," I said, trying to concentrate on enjoying my breakfast as the other two giggled happily and girlishly. "Go braid each other's hair or something. I'm eating here." "She's just jealous because she didn't get to gossip about boys with us," Kate told Jake, and they laughed again. "Yeah," I said and sipped at my tea. "That's probably it." "No, seriously," Kate continued, "we really need to go out together, you know, maybe hit the town and go shopping or whatever we feel like doing. Then we'll rent a chick flick--I mean a proper one--and watch it back here. It would be just great!" "What if we get recognized out there?" Jake wondered. "You'll need to change your appearances a little, but don't worry. I'll think of something. Since you two are now girls anyway, why not have a little fun on the side? I won't let you sit here and sulk all day long, no sir. We all should enjoy this as long as it lasts. Maybe Mandy... Oh, speak of the devil!" "What?" I asked. Following Kate's gaze, I looked out of the kitchen window and was surprised to see a huge white motor home filling our driveway. It had appeared out of nowhere; for some curious reason I hadn't heard it come. The Rankinses were here. "Dammit!" I cried and stood up so fast that my chair fell over. "Jake, out of the house! We need to split immediately!" In a semi-panic, I ran to the foyer with Jake and grabbed my leather jacket while Jake took his. He was about to walk casually out of the front door, but I stepped in front of him, physically turned him around and said, "No! Not that way!" We dashed past Kate and out through the seldom-used back door which was left open in the wake of our escape. As I took a quick glance back over my shoulder, I could see my sister standing in the doorway, laughing at us. We sprinted across our backyard and into the woods as fast as we could. There had probably been some rain very late in the night or very early in the morning because the tall grass outside the lawn was still wet and there were small puddles of water almost everywhere. Our shoes didn't stay clean and dry for long, but that was the least of our concerns at that time. Once we had managed to get past the first trees, I slowed down to walking and Jake promptly did the same. Now that we were comparatively safe once again, there was time for me to look around and take a few deep breaths. It was actually a beautiful morning--the air was brisk, but not really cold, and the sun shone brightly, sending some last rays of warmth to this part of our little planet before the winter would set in. Tiny droplets of water sparkled like stars on tree branches. It was quiet all around, for even though the main road was just some two hundred yards away, there was little traffic at this time of day. It wasn't very hard to imagine that this was actually a large forest in some desolate corner of the world, and for that reason this had been one of our absolute favorite places to play when we were children. No matter if we pretended to be commandos in a rain forest in Central America, astronauts exploring a strange new planet, spies on a mission to Siberia, cowboys and Indians in the old West or cops chasing dangerous criminals, this was always the perfect stage. In fact, I had remembered our old treehouse in the vicinity and was now leading us towards it, curious to see if it was still holding together. Considering how thin the boards the little shack was made of were to begin with and how time had presumably ravaged them since, it was far too risky to climb up there even in our light female bodies, but at least we could sit on the rocks under the tree and wait for the Rankinses to leave. "So," I said to Jake, "you're adjusting." "Huh?" he asked. "What do you mean? Adjusting to what?" "To being a girl. You get along so well with Kate." "Ah well," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "I don't know. I'm just trying to be nice. I mean, it's not like this is her fault. And besides, like you said yesterday, things could be a lot worse." "Yep, they could." We walked in silence for a couple of seconds, and then I added, "On the other hand, it might be because you're hitting on my sister." "What?" Jake exclaimed. "No, no, no. It's not that! I'm just... you know, being friendly." "It's alright," I said and let out a small laugh. "I don't mind that, but there's one little problem." "Oh yeah? What is it?" "She doesn't swing that way, Willow." "Just couldn't resist that, you old bastard." The small opening where the massive old oak tree still stood as firmly as ever was a mere minute's walk away, even though the distance had felt like miles when we were kids. The years had seemingly passed the tree by, but our old clubhouse had not been equally resilient; as we approached it, I could see that almost half of the boards--some of which had admittedly been nearly rotten already at the time of construction--had fallen off. Why the rest hadn't collapsed was beyond my comprehension. At any rate, we really had no business trying to go up there. That much was certain. I sat on the round back of one of the rocks, and Jake followed suit. The walk through the woods and our coming here, to this particular spot, filled my mind with fond and amusing memories of my childhood, but the sad decline of our once proud fortress served as a concrete reminder of the fact that those days were gone and would never return. Jake shifted slightly and pushed a few stray hairs behind his ear, just like he had done at the party when I had first seen him as Willow. He was definitely waiting for me to break the silence and open a discussion, and finally, after coming up with a subject that didn't seem to contain too much potential to make us sadder, I complied. "Mind if I ask you a question?" "Not at all," he said. "Shoot." "Did you really strip naked in front of Tina and Kathy?" He let out a chuckle and replied, "If that's the big mystery that has been bothering you all this time, then I guess I need to give you an answer. I used a towel." "Good thinking," I commended with a smile. "A gentleman, as always." "Oh man," he sighed, "I really wish I had known what I was getting into. To be sure, it all sounded strange to me, but I didn't suspect anything like this. How could I? I-I mean, this stuff doesn't just happen, right?" "I concur, as a knower of all things physic-y." This innocent little line took him by surprise. His brow furrowed, but at the same time a smile began forming on his lips, as if he was waiting for me to explain my joke and preparing to laugh at it. He wondered, "What? 'All things physic-y?' You sound like some ditz!" "Guess who I heard that one from," I prompted him. "Well?" "You." "No way!" he said and laughed out loud. "Give me some credit! I don't make up meaningless words from scratch." "Yesterday you did," I corrected him. "I suppose you haven't noticed it yourself, but at times you speak like Willow--or that's what it sounds like to me, anyway. You keep it up for a while and then revert to your own style. It's curious." "No, I don't!" he protested. "Look who's talking! As a matter of fact, I was just about to tell you the same thing. It's really eerie listening to you and observing how you turn mentally into Buffy. Soon you'll be running around the town by night with a wooden stake, looking for vampires to dust." "Well, then," I sassed back, "at least I know where to find backup. Cast any good spells lately?" Fortunately, Jake decided to shrug the entire thing off with another smile. By now, it was clear to me that he wasn't aware of his own strange (and, to be honest, downright creepy) speaking style changes. Of course, chances were I was indeed similarly affected but didn't realize it any more than Jake realized his own condition. There could be surprises still in store for us, and not all of them pleasant. I was just about to ask him to share his thoughts on this subject when I received an answer of sorts. I turned my head towards him and began to say, "Surely, this can't---" when I suddenly felt his lips on mine. I had closed my eyes for a fleeting moment and therefore didn't see what he was up to. The kiss was brief, lasting hardly more than two seconds, and he fortunately refrained from pushing his tongue into my mouth; it merely brushed against my upper lip. I, for my part, was too overwhelmed to do anything, and the whole thing was over before I could react. Jake pulled apart quickly and blushed as he became fully aware of what he had done. "Oh m-my goodness," he stammered, trying to express an apology. "I-I shouldn't have... I'm so sorry! I... I won't do that ever again! I promise!" "Uh," I began, after having regained some of my previous composure, "that was a surprise." "I bet! I... I honestly don't know what came over me! I---" "Don't worry about that," I said reassuringly. "If you had been in your male form, then I just might have been a bit disgusted, but this--this is somewhat more tolerable." "I hope so," he said, his feminine face still glowing red. "You know, being kissed by a girl who looks like you do now isn't the worst thing in the world. I think I'll survive." This finally managed to draw a short chuckle out of him, even though he was still clearly very embarrassed by his own actions. He seemed to be trying to dig a small hole in the ground with the tip of his sneaker, probably wishing he could turn invisible for a while. "I have to admit," I continued, "you taste good." "So do you," he said. "I just wish I could have someone like you as a girlfriend when we return to normal. You're damn hot." "Likewise. But since neither of us is, shall we say, predisposed to sex with men, I think it's out of the question." "Imagine a couple of real girls wearing these skins and hooking up with us!" he fantasized with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Now wouldn't that be something!" "Too bad it's not very likely," I said, letting out a small laugh. "Maybe we should put on some male skins. Who knows, then things might work out." "Oh no! No way. I've had enough of these damn costumes. It's time someone else entertained me with them, not the other way around." "What do you say we move on," I suggested and got up. "This rock's cold." "Fine by me," Jake complied. In a few minutes, we emerged from the woods and realized we were now standing next to the main road, separated from it by a shallow ditch and the shared use path that ran alongside the road. Instead of taking an immediate 180-degree turn and returning to where we were unlikely to be spotted, we leaped across the ditch (which was hardly a major obstacle) and continued our aimless wandering along the path. If there was a rational reason behind this stupid decision, I can't remember it; we probably just thought that walking on a road would be less tiring and our clothes would remain cleaner. Then again, it's equally likely that we were not thinking at all. I had already learned not to worry about passing cars. Otherwise we would not have ventured there, as we were very much on display; here the road was virtually straight for more than a quarter of a mile, with good visibility all around. Some bright official had decided to put a 30 MPH speed limit here, and it almost goes without saying that the townsfolk, myself included, broke it habitually. Whenever the local law enforcement bothered to monitor the area, they almost invariably caught a number of offenders red-handed. Typically, a few people had their licenses suspended, and equally typically my uncle was among them. Up until that point, nobody had even taken a second look at us, even though I knew several people had to have seen us by then. Our faces had been in plain view almost all the time, and still there had been absolutely no reaction from the public. Maybe I had really been paranoid, I thought to myself. Not everybody could "recognize" us after all, and some of those that could were simply indifferent about it. Jake had undoubtedly noticed the same thing, and he said, "You know, it's lovely to be able to take a little stroll and not have fans begging for autographs all over you." "Yeah," I concurred. "Maybe we should inform the Town Council that they ought to market this place to those folks in Hollywood as a celebrity safe haven. Nobody bothers anybody around these parts." "The peace and quiet would be gone before you could blink an eye." "That's the downside, but at least the decision makers at Town Hall would finally have the money to renovate the high school buildings, which resemble our treehouse more and more each year as far as structural integrity is concerned." "You think? All we'd see would be new, very expensive cars for the top officials, and that's it. Screw the school. That's their idea of spending money well." "You're probably right, as usual." "By the way, do you know what I'd like?" he asked, changing the subject. "A nice cold beer." "I wouldn't mind one either," I said, chuckling a little, "but we have the minor problem of being short on cash right now. I didn't bring any money." "Neither did I." "Of course," I mused, "we could always march into Ernie's Bar and see if we can get someone to buy us something." "That's pretty risky," Jake commented. "I wouldn't be comfortable doing it." "Why not? This is an incredible opportunity to put our brand new feminine wiles to use. You could just snuggle up to one of the regulars and coo into his ear something like 'Hey, baby, would you mind buyin' lil' ole me a drink? I can show you a good time, hon...'" I couldn't finish my sentence with a straight face, but the suggestion was still enough for Jake to offer me a sharp comeback: "Oh? Well, let's see you do it then. You look much more, um, hooey than I do." "You're the one who wanted a beer, so you do it. I'll watch." "I bet. Once again, you are trying to make me do the dirty work for you." "Oh, I'm sorry! I completely forgot you don't swing that way, Miss Rosenberg." "But luckily you do, Miss Summers. Why not go and pick up a nice boy? I'm sure you want to do just that, and you'd get the drinks for us as an added bonus." Before this friendly squabble could continue, another car came into view. At first, I didn't really pay mind to it, but then the person behind the wheel attracted my attention for a moment. Thanks to both my considerably improved eyesight and the fact that the car was going rather slowly, giving me ample time to watch it, I noticed that the driver was a bespectacled young man with short, light brown hair. As the car approached, I could soon make out his facial features and then recognized him as Kenny Taylor. I hadn't seen him driving a car before; in fact, I had rarely seen him outside of his room and had concluded that he didn't even have a license as getting one would have meant a temporary separation from his computers. Yet, here he was, driving around just like a regular adult person, except that he actually seemed to be observing the speed limit. I once read somewhere that it is not correct to use the words 'nerd' and 'geek' interchangeably as they don't mean the exact same thing. Kenneth W. Taylor certainly didn't justify any such distinction, as he embodied just about every single clich? and stereotype associated with both of these groups of people. He was generally a likable person, open-minded and talkative once someone could get him to come out of his shell, but he had next to no social life outside whatever virtual world he was immersed in at a given time. When removed from the vicinity of his beloved computers, he became an awkward and almost painfully shy boy who strove to avoid encountering other people face-to-face at all costs. It is true that Jake, Charlie and I, perhaps even Scott, were slightly geeky in our own way, but Kenny had taken it to a whole another level. He didn't waste too much time on the issues of the mundane real life. Unlike us, he didn't need alcohol (or weed) to have fun, and the political discussions I often had with Jake would have been nearly meaningless to him as he had little emotional or intellectual investment in such things. He acknowledged that they existed, of course, but they had only a circumferential presence in his little world. As long as he had a working net connection, he didn't worry too much about global climate changes or the situation in Middle East. Kenny, who was about three years younger than Scott, hadn't originally been part of our gang. We first met him through a common friend when I was a high school junior. At the time, Jake, Charlie and I were developing a computer game of our own and needed some programming advice. Kenny turned out to be not only a great computer wizard but also a nice guy who was more than willing to help us out. The game project was a poorly planned and even more poorly executed mess, essentially an extended and glorified joke that came to naught in the end, but Kenny nevertheless had remained something of a borderline friend-acquaintance ever since. In addition, my parents and his were on friendly terms. I had had a minor falling out with him two years ago. We were having a conversation on science fiction and fantasy as genres of cinema, these being among our mutual interests, and he had declared his love for Japanese animated films. At this point, I had made the mistake of voicing a strongly differing opinion using somewhat colorful language. Kenny didn't lose his temper--I doubt if that was even possible--but this difference had caused some minor friction between us then, and we hadn't seen each other for a while when this adventure was taking place. Knowing how lonely he was, I wanted to meet him in the near future, but I had been putting it off for months and felt guilty because of that. My first reaction was to wave my hand at him, but I quickly thought the better of it as I remembered what and who I looked like now. I also realized it might be a good idea not to give Kenny an unobstructed view of our faces. "Hey, turn around!" I ordered Jake, but he simply stared at me and asked, "Why? What for?" By then, Kenny's car had already gone past us and it was much too late to do anything about it. "Oh, Mike," Jake continued and let out a laughter, "did you see that guy in that car? He was ogling us like crazy but probably couldn't see anything with those glasses! That expression on his face was goddamn priceless!" "That was Kenny Taylor," I said, "in case you didn't notice." "Shit!" Jake cussed, suddenly serious again. He too had grasped that this encounter might cause problems, but after a short pause and on a second thought, he was already willing to write the possibility off. "Ah well, I don't think he could see us well enough. He's practically blind, anyway." The next thing we heard was the screeching of the tires of Kenny's car as he hit the brakes with all his might. He was about to drive squarely off the road but managed--just barely--to keep the vehicle from plowing into the ditch. After slowing down to almost a halt, he steadied his car and went on, going even more slowly than before. "I beg to differ," I commented on Jake's analysis. "I think he saw us alright." "I suppose walking around in public like this wasn't such a great idea after all." "So it seems. Let's head back to our place. With any luck, the Rankinses have left." "And if they haven't?" "We'll think of something. If all else fails, we'll hang out at the treehouse some more and then go back." "Whatever you say." Instead of again cutting across the woods, we followed the road back home. It meant walking a good mile or so, mostly in view of other people, but it still didn't seem particularly dangerous to us and we also wanted to take our time. So we made our way to my parents' house at a leisurely pace, chatting mostly about cars and some other random topics that had nothing to do with our current situation. As soon as the house and the driveway came into our full view, I saw to my great relief that the Rankins' motor home was no longer there. With Jake on my heels, I made a beeline to the front door and entered casually. It had been nice to be able to get some fresh air and talk with Jake, but now I was looking forward to a quiet forenoon of relaxation and reflection in the safety of my old home. Walking into the kitchen, I was very surprised to see Scott up and about. Like Jake, he was wearing the clothes that went with his costume--which was a necessity since relatively little else was available as long as we remained in our female forms--but he had apparently put on light makeup as well. Still more unexpected was his good physical condition: he was sitting on the counter, swinging his feet and looking as fresh and cheerful as ever. I had assumed he would be very nauseous with a massive hangover for the better part of the day, but there was not even the remotest sign of such a condition visible in him. "Buffy! Sis!" Scott exclaimed, jumped down and ran to us. "I'm so glad to see you!" He flung his thin arms around me and gave me a tight hug. I barely returned the embrace as I was slightly taken aback by this gesture. "And Willow! I love you guys!" he continued, letting me go but moving onto Jake, who seemed even more uncomfortable. "Where were you?" "Out," Jake said. "And you didn't take me with you!" he moaned after finally releasing my friend. "You always leave me home!" "Scott, calm down," I ordered my cousin. "We're not playing the role game anymore. You... you do remember you're Scott, right?" "Of course," he said and smiled widely. "But it's just so much fun, you know, pretending. Can't we pretend for a little while longer?" "Maybe not right now," I said, still trying to comprehend that this exchange was actually taking place in real life. "Anyway, you definitely seem more... energetic than usual, especially considering what you did last night." "Yeah! Isn't it great?" "Hey, are you sure you're alright?" I asked him. "You're not feeling strange?" "Never better!" he exclaimed and hugged me again. "I feel fantastic! Absolutely fantastic! No headache, nothing!" So as not to leave any doubts, he even did a little twirl on the floor right in front of Jake and me. I was flabbergasted, as was Jake. "That's our little Miss Sunshine," Kate said. She was sitting at the dining table, having observed our reunion in silence but with an amused expression on her face. "She's been like that since she woke up." "When was that, by the way?" I asked. "About 45 minutes ago, I think." "We've been busy here," Scott babbled on. "First I had a good breakfast, and then Kate made my face up and helped me with my hair. She even borrowed me a fresh pair of panties. I was just asking her if we could do each other's toenails next. I'd love that." I couldn't help but stare at Kate with my mouth hanging open, hoping that she'd confess this was a mere practical joke on me. Instead she simply nodded, confirming Scott's story. "Kate, have you guys already decided when the next roleplaying session is going to be? I'll be so there! I'd really like to play Dawn again. Do you think you could arrange that?" "We'll have to see about that," Kate chuckled. "It may take some time, since we have a bit of a mess on our hands right now." "Oh," he said, sounding a little disappointed. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed that everything will be sorted out ASAP. I just can't wait!" Scott's strange sense of humor and love of clever sarcasm were well known facts, but this show was beginning to convince even me that he was actually being sincere. I wasn't sure how to react. Fresh memories of Scott wanting a boy to play with and his trying to break into the Taylors' house to get his hands on one came flooding to my mind. No matter how hard I tried to push the thought aside, I couldn't help but recognize the chilling possibility that he was turning out like Larry, becoming his character entirely. In that case, it might be only a matter of time before I would indeed find myself patrolling the town cemetery at night or pining after an undead boyfriend. Charlie and Jake, of course, would be in for something similar. None of it seemed like a laughing matter anymore. "Correct me if I'm wrong," Jake began, directing his words to Scott, "but I was under the impression you weren't all that crazy about wearing a skin or having to pretend you're a girl." "I wasn't," Scott said. "But to be honest, it's really not as bad as I thought it would be. Once you get used to this body it really grows on you. It's got all this energy and it makes you feel so positive and happy about life and, well, pretty much everything. I can't really explain it, but I see everything in a new light now and my mind is so clear. Besides, I'd really like to give roleplaying another shot. Maybe it'll work out even better next time." "You're not planning to stay that way, are you?" I asked flat out. "Um," Scott began, somewhat apprehensively, "I suppose not. I mean, it's not that I don't like it here, but I still have my own life to lead. Anyway, I want to enjoy this as long as I can." "I promised to drive her to her apartment," Kate said. "And, just in case you were wondering, the Rankinses did stop by but went on their way when I told them that Mom and Dad weren't home, so you guys are safe here now." "So, Scott, why not stay?" I inquired. "What's the hurry?" "Oh, no particular reason," Scott said. "I just need to get a few things done. Maybe we can get together later, you know, have a slumber party or something like that." "Mom would probably be happy," Kate remarked. "She told me this morning she likes it when our house is full of girls. It's a nice change of pace, provided that they don't drink." "Hopefully it won't last long," I said. "Which do you mean? Lots of girls here or you guys not drinking?" "Both." "I'm guessing your Mom will be a bit disappointed when she gets back," Jake commented. "Kate, could you take me home too?" "Sure," she replied. "Et tu, amice," I remarked. "Now who am I supposed to commiserate with? And what about your folks?" "I have to face the music sooner or later," he said, "so I might as well do it now. If they're not there, and I'm hoping so, I can rest for a while and enjoy some peace and quiet. I just need to get my mind in working order again." "Of course." "We'll get together later and do something stupid like get drunk, but right now I need to unwind." "That's a good idea, actually," I said. "Might get some shut-eye myself." "See you!" Kate went on to usher the two synthetic females out of the door and into my car, and as soon as the party of three had left the building, I trudged to the guest room and more or less instantaneously collapsed on the bed that had provided Scott a comfortable nest to sleep in last night. The sheets and the blanket were still there, albeit in a disorderly heap, but I merely laid myself down on top of them, pulled a pillow under my head and closed my eyes. Even though sleep didn't come immediately, I did feel surprisingly tired. Jake certainly was a veritable fountain of good ideas, I thought to myself. Nothing like a little nap to clear your head when you've been turned into a girl against your will. I chuckled at this and then some more when I imagined somebody coming here and hearing me laugh to myself for no apparent reason. They'd think I had lost my mind--or that I was a cannibal. Didn't old cannibals usually suffer from a brain disease that makes them laugh insanely to themselves? I decided I would have to look that up. At any rate, I was sure I deserved a pat on the back for not going totally insane. Many if not most people would have been ready for the padded cell if they had gone through what I had. For instance, Larry... "That asshole!" I mumbled out loud and fell gently asleep. I opened my eyes and realized I was looking at the ceiling of my own room. Rays of the sun were streaming in through the window, forming an almost perfectly square-shaped bright spot on the wall, so it had to be late afternoon. As soon as my still sleepy brain had comprehended this much, I noticed something about myself. The weight of breasts on my chest was gone, and so was the pull of the long hair on my head. Even more interestingly, the familiar sensation of male equipment between my legs had returned. Carefully and deliberately I lifted my right arm and touched my face with my fingertips. Immediately, they came into contact with scratchy stubble, the telltale sign that I hadn't shaved for more than 24 hours. Unsure whether or not I could trust my senses, I got slowly on my feet. Even my own clothes were back, it seemed; the ones I had worn as a replica Buffy would probably have torn if I had tried to get into them as I was now. I looked around, waiting for a full minute to see if this environment was indeed real. I almost expected it to vanish any second, but nothing of the sort happened. For all I could tell, everything had been restored to normal. I moved around a little to get my stiff limbs to working condition again and could not help but wonder how different my body felt. I was much taller, much more massive and much clumsier than I had remembered, and a single step seemed to carry me a long distance forward. My belly weighed apparently about a ton, and I was almost afraid that the floor might give way under me. It was equally odd to have my own genitalia back where they belonged; never before had I noticed how much they took up space. Not that I would have parted with them--the reunion was joyful, regardless of my general disorientation. "So," I said slowly to myself, emphasizing every syllable,"what the hell was that?" My voice sounded a bit raspy, as my throat was dry, but it was definitely my own voice, not a young woman's. That was another relief, but I still struggled to understand what I had just experienced. The Halloween party had to have been imaginary, I told myself as I walked quietly towards the staircase, looking at the walls and furniture of the upper floor of my parents' house as if I had never seen them before. That was the most logical explanation: a dream, or maybe a hallucination within a dream. Those strange skinsuits could not exist in real life, and my thirty-one-year-old little sister was not a bubbly teenager anymore. Jake no longer lived with his parents, nor did Scott, nor Kenny Taylor. I hadn't seen Larry for more than a decade, and of course he had never turned himself permanently into a duplicate of Faith the Vampire Slayer. Why and how had my brain concocted such an insane scenario? It had to have been by far the most realistic and detailed dream I had ever had, and it was complete lunacy from start to finish. I was halfway down the stairs when I heard my cell phone start to ring somewhere in the house. Wasting no time, I ran down the remaining steps and dashed into the kitchen, scanning the table and the counter as I went. The phone was nowhere to be seen. Next, I tried the living room, and sure enough, the device was lying in the middle of the big table, playing a melody to catch my attention. I had no recollection whatsoever of leaving it here, but I was glad all the same to have found it. Quickly I grabbed it and answered, without even checking the caller ID first. "Mike Caldwell." "Hey, man!" Jake's voice boomed from the other end. "It's me. How are you doing?" "Fine, I'm fine," I replied, momentarily taken aback by the fact that he didn't sound at all like Willow Rosenberg. "What's up?" "Oh, I just thought I'd let you know I'm coming to see my uncle, and I'll be staying over at his place for three or four days. You know, in case you'd like to come and see me." "Yeah, that'd be nice. I haven't got anything planned, so I'd like to come. I'm at my parents' house right now." "Hey, that's excellent! So you're only five miles away. And guess what? I finally got it!" "Got what?" "The AR-15 I told you about! The paperwork's all done, and I went and bought the piece the day before yesterday. It's used, but in almost mint condition, with forward assist and a Picatinny rail, but the shop owner threw in a classic upper receiver with the tactical carry handle as well. I have it with me and was planning to take it to the range and put some holes in a couple of targets. I'd like you to come too. What do you say?" "Um... that sounds great," I said, still trying to process what I was hearing. "It's been a while since you last put some five-five-six downrange, right? So, I thought you'd love refreshing some of those good old memories." "You're right. It's been a while." "Anyway, the rifle came with no fancy optics or anything, just the basic accessories and two 20-round mags, so I bought another 30-round one. I was thinking to have some custom iron sights installed when I have the money, but that'll have to wait a little. As for our trip, are you in?" "Sure. I'll give you a call when I get some things sorted. I'm... well, kind of tired, you see, so maybe we could go tomorrow if weather's alright." "Fine. Call me then. Bye, man!" "Bye, Jake!" Kate had strolled into the room while I was talking on my phone, so when I put it down, I turned and saw her standing there. Somehow, she looked a little different to me now, and it took me a couple of seconds to identify what it was about her that had suddenly changed. "Hey, your hair," I said. "Did you go to a hairdresser and get a shorter cut, or am I seeing things?" "Well, I did go a couple of weeks ago," she said and let out a chuckle, "but I only got a moderate dye job and had some trimming done, and besides, my hair's not even that short anymore. Why do you ask?" "I thought you still had it halfway down your back." The reddish highlights she had had after the roleplaying party were gone, too, and she now sported what was almost her natural hair color. "Oh no, I didn't." She shook her head and smiled. "My hair's not been that long for years, not since I was a freshman in college, or about that time. You really didn't notice it before?" "Of course I did, but... I don't know. Maybe I didn't take a good look at you." My words sounded utterly stupid, but I could no longer take them back. She looked at me with a furrowed brow and commented, "You seem kind of... well, preoccupied. Is something wrong?" "No, not at all," I replied quickly. "I'm fine. It's just that I saw this really strange dream and I thought it was real." "What was it about?" "Uh... I think we were at a Halloween party of some kind. Scott was there, and Charlie and Jake, and Scott got drunk." "Sounds like good old times, doesn't it?" Kate laughed. "You guys sure did your share of drinking and fooling around, back in the day. It's a wonder none of you was ever arrested or anything." "Come on! We were not that bad!" "I could bring up some pretty hilarious examples of the stuff you pulled," she pointed out, "but maybe I'll let it slide, just this once." "That reminds me," I said, "can you recall me and Scott and Jake ever dressing up as the Blues Brothers for a Halloween party?" "Not offhand. When was it?" "I'm not sure. Maybe around the time you graduated from high school, or a little before that." "Come to think of it," she mused, "I guess you did so at some point. Oh yeah, you did! It was at Jennifer Mullen's father's hunting cabin... wait, what, twelve years ago? I don't remember the year, but we were there alright. It all came back to me just now." She let out a chuckle at the memory, and so did I, even though her recollections of the event must have been much clearer than mine. For whatever reason, it was a tremendous relief for me to hear that this party had definitely happened, unlike the one with the skinsuits and Buffy the Vampire Slayer roleplay. "Where's Mom, by the way?" I asked casually. The house felt strangely empty, with apparently only me and Kate there. "At the charity meeting." "Do they meet on Sundays?" "That sure had to be some dream, Mike," Kate commented and smiled again at me. "It's Friday, half past three." "Huh? I thought it was Sunday already. The damn thesis must be getting to me again, or something. Perhaps I ought to get some more rest and let my head clear up." "That should be a good idea. You're on vacation, so you might as well relax a little." Her cell phone rang, and she fished it out of her trouser pocket and went upstairs to talk with the caller, whoever that was. The study was next to the living room, and for no particular reason I wandered slowly there after she had left me alone. Perhaps looking at and interacting with the familiar surroundings would help to clear the mess in my mind. I had to try to get used to the fact that I was a man again and that my memories from the last couple of days--subjectively speaking--were most likely not real. I laid my eyes on the computer, and on the spur of the moment, I decided to check if I had new e-mail while I was there. So, I sat on the office chair and pressed the power switch. The aging machine woke up, its cooler fans started running and the screen came alive. I had half a minute or so to fiddle my thumbs before I was prompted for a password, and then the operating system duly gave me access to the desktop. There was only one user account, used by everyone, and the password was not particularly difficult to guess; it was more of a formality than actual protection, but when the computer had been bought years ago, I (as the de facto system administrator) had insisted on having it enabled and memorized by all in the family. A quick check using the webmail application of my university showed nothing new in my inbox, apart from another spam message from some fake scientific journal. In fact, I had already gotten at least five more or less identical ones during the past two months from the same address, and even though I had marked them as junk, the e-mail filter was still letting them through. I did the same for this message as well, hoping that the filter would finally understand how I wanted it to deal with anything sent by the bogus Turkish publication. I then logged out of my e-mail account and was about to shut down the whole computer when another whim hit me. Directing the web browser to Google's main page, I wrote the words "Warburton high Nebraska" in the search box and pressed enter. In hindsight, my train of thought was not all that logical, but I had become very curious about Kate's friend Tina. I considered a little background check on her to be in order, irrespective of whether or not the Buffy-themed party had been objectively real. She struck me as a shady character, someone who might be something other than she appeared. The first, comparatively easy step in my investigation was to find out about her old hometown and school. I actually expected that Warburton, Nebraska did not even exist. I was proven wrong in less than a second. There was indeed such a town in Nebraska, apparently not unlike our little Greensville, and it also had a high school with professional-looking, neat web pages. However, this didn't satisfy me yet. The top of the page had a navigation menu with an item called "Contact us", and I clicked on it. In a matter of moments, I was looking at the faculty and administration phone numbers and e-mail addresses. If I had been more patient, I would likely have created a free ad hoc e-mail account and then sent them a message from there, but even if they had responded to it at all, they might have taken their time doing so, and I wanted answers as quickly as possible. So I pulled out my phone and typed in the number for the school's student records and transcripts office, saving it in the contacts list. This situation presented me with a dilemma of sorts. I realized that it would have been more cautious and prudent to find a payphone to call the school, but as it happened, almost all public phones in and around Greensville had been removed in the past decade as fewer and fewer people used them. I couldn't even remember where the nearest operational booth was now, and I had no desire to go looking for one in my car. The other option was to call from my cell phone directly, but that would give the school my number, and I was not keen on allowing them to find out my identity. They might legitimately be concerned about my intentions, even if they refused to give me any information. In an uncharacteristically bold move, I settled on the latter option. After leaving the computer to shut down, I marched into the living room with my phone in my hand. Kate was somewhere in the house, and as I didn't want her to overhear me, I grabbed my jacket from the coat rack and went outside in the backyard before selecting the school's number and pressing the call button. The ringback tone sounded five times before someone picked up on the other end of the connection. A somewhat raspy woman's voice answered, "Warburton High, administration. How may I help you?" "Hi," I greeted her. "This is... um, Mike, Mike Simmons. I'd like to... uh, obtain some information about a former student of yours, if that's okay." I immediately cringed for sounding that nervous and awkward; I was certain the woman would tell me off. "What kind of information?" she asked in a monotonous voice. "Actually," I hurried to explain, "I'm helping to organize a sort of a class reunion, and I was wondering if you could, uh, tell me if a certain student was at one time enrolled at your school." "I suppose I can possibly help you with that," she said. "However, as I'm sure you know, the student addresses, attendance, health and disciplinary records, test scores and things like that are strictly confidential. I can't give you anything that has to do with those." "That's okay. I'd just like to check if this person has ever studied at Warburton High." "Are you with the law enforcement or some State or Federal agency, sir?" "No, no, nothing like that. I'm just a friend of hers, and they tasked me with collecting info on the reunion participants. We're planning to make a small chronicle about all of us, kind of like a sequel to our high school yearbook." "Alright then." "So, anyway, the person's name is Tina Mills. She lived there when she was younger but moved out of state after her junior or sophomore year. She would have been in the class of... 2003 or 2004, I think." "Just a moment, sir," the woman said. The other end of the connection fell silent, save for the fast, barely audible clicking of keys on a computer keyboard. I shifted my feet back and forth anxiously, already regretting my decision to play at a private detective. "Sorry, sir," the woman reported after a while. "No matches came up." "Did you check the class of 2005 as well?" I asked. "She may have been held back because... uh, because her family moved from place to place a lot." "I checked all the classes from 1990, which is when our current electronic records start," she responded with a tone of slight impatience. "No one by the name of Tina Mills is listed there." "Oh, I see," I said. "That's strange. She should be." "Sir, are you sure about the name? Is Mills her maiden name or married name?" "It must be the former. I don't believe she's ever been married. But the given name could be short for Christina or something like that, so maybe---" "There are no matches for any female student named Mills after 1990, sir. I'm sorry." "Well, okay," I said. "I might have been mistaken. Sorry to have bothered you, and thanks. Goodbye." "Bye," she said unceremoniously and hung up. I slipped the phone into my pocket and went back into the house, deep in thought. The answer I had received to my inquiry was more or less what I had expected, but all it did was to confirm my suspicion that something was amiss with one of Kate's friends. Even though there could be an innocent explanation for her being less than completely candid about her past, my doubts about her were certainly not allayed. In a minute, I had found my way to the living room couch, and I sat down. Toying absentmindedly with the phone, I once again tried to make some sense of the situation, no matter how impossible it seemed. Someone had to know more about all this. Perhaps one of the other people present at the Buffy party had experienced something similar, I thought; if that was the case, there was a chance we could find out more by comparing notes. This idea, too, admittedly owed much more to intuition than logic or common sense, but at the moment it felt as reasonable as anything. Something strange had either happened in the past or was happening now to me, and it involved certain other people. I even considered giving Larry a call. I didn't have his number, but assuming it was not unlisted, I could in principle look it up. Of course, finding the number was just the first obstacle: he might not answer at all if he saw that the call was coming from me. At any rate, if I was to attempt contacting him, I would need to plan ahead and think carefully what to say. I would probably have to offer him peace, ask questions about his life and try to thaw him out to the best of my ability. Maybe then, if all went well, I might be able to tack on a few innocent little questions about a Halloween party many years ago; whether or not he remembered it, and if he did, did he also recall something very much out of ordinary happening then. Of course, this would all be a sort of moot point if he had actually turned into Leslie/Faith and was still in her form, I thought, but at least I would then have concrete evidence--- I felt a hand on my arm, startling me so much that I turned quickly around. For a fleeting moment I was completely disoriented again until it dawned on me that I had woken up and returned to the grim reality, if that is what this was. The hand belonged to Kate, or her long- haired, teenaged version, whom I saw looking down at me. I was laying on my side on the guest room bed and was, very much against my hopes and wishes, back in my Buffy form. I didn't need a mirror to find that out. "A nightmare?" she asked. "No, this is the nightmare. How long was I asleep, anyway?" I asked her. "Close to three hours," she commented. From behind Kate, a small girl walked into my view. Even though she was immediately recognizable as Ella Woodbine, our neighbors' six-year-old daughter, I stared at her as if she had fallen from the sky. "Ella," Kate said to the little girl, "this is... uh, this is Aunt Cindy. Say hi to her!" "Hi," Ella said coyly. "Hi, Ella," I mumbled for a reply and got up so I was sitting on the edge of the bed. As the dimensions of my body had seemingly changed for the third time, I again had to think before every movement, no matter how small. "Ella's parents had to go to town so we'll have to babysit her for a while," Kate explained. "I'm going to cook us something to eat, so you'll have to help. Would you like to play something with Aunt Cindy, Ella?" "A tea party," the girl announced. I opened my mouth to make a protest, but Kate aimed a death stare at me and said, "You really, really need to help me out now--if you want to eat today, that is. Make nice and play with her. Please, Cindy, just this once. No excuses." Maybe it was Kate's pleading and reasoning, but I personally blame Ella's huge, moist doe eyes for the fact that three minutes later I was sitting on the upstairs floor with the little girl and a couple of Kate's old Barbie dolls and other assorted toys which had gotten a new, unexpected lease on life after the Woodbines had moved next door to us with their young daughter. It was not uncommon for Kate to babysit her; she adored Kate more than anything in the world, and they got along fabulously well. Besides, a few minutes into our little play, I realized this was actually a blessing for me. Ella made sure I had no time to feel sorry for myself after my return to normalcy had turned out to have been nothing but a lovely dream. I had to admit Ella was as cute as cute can be with her freckles and little round nose. She had her dark blond hair in pigtails, and she was wearing a red sleeveless dress and white shirt and socks. It had taken her almost no time at all to decide which doll was to sit where and who was to have which mug. I just followed her directions; this being my first tea party ever, I had next to no idea what to do. As we went, I got a brief description of each of the plastic participants' personalities (some background information that Ella came up with was really funny, but there's no space for that here), and now I was supposed to know how to play. "Cindy," Ella asked, "could you please give me some sugar?" "There you go," I replied, handing her one of the small plastic pots. I congratulated myself for remembering which one it was. I had just made a faux pas by offering her the one where we kept the imaginary cookies, and it would be embarrassing to make the same mistake again in front of all these classy (if quiet) guests. "Thank you," Ella said primly. "Give some to Miss Williams, too." "There's your sugar, Miss," I told one of the dolls and dropped an invisible sugar cube in her cup. I was getting the hang of this, I told myself. With some luck, the party would be a success with no more major blunders on my part. "Miss Williams thanks you," Ella explained. "You're very welcome," I said to the Barbie doll, suppressing a chuckle. "Miss Williams is friends with a beautiful princess. Her brother likes Miss Williams, but Miss Williams doesn't like him." "Why is that?" I asked. "Because boys are stupid," came the straightforward answer. "Like Benjy. He's always calling me names at school and he tries to steal my backpack from me." "You know," I suggested, "sometimes boys do that to girls when they like them but are too shy to tell them. Maybe Benjy likes you." "Whatever. I don't like him anyway. He's stupid, just like all boys." For a moment, I wondered if this Benjy fellow was one of the quartet that had paid us a visit at the villa yesterday. If that was so, then he had received a sort of retribution for all his misdeeds as Leslie's talk about kissing them had sent the boys running for their lives. Perhaps that was the only redeeming thing Leslie had done during her entire existence. "Aunt Cindy," Ella asked, "do you have a boyfriend?" "No, I don't." "Is it because you think that boys are stupid too?" I knew I had to keep a straight face, no matter what. Ella's candid questions and comments would have made me smile or even laugh on several occasions, but doing so could have hurt her feelings. So I did my best to contain my amusement and give her a proper answer. "No, it's not that," I said. "I simply haven't gotten around to it yet." "It's not a smart thing to do, hanging around with a boy," Ella advised me. "They just tease you and call you names. I know." "Big boys don't," I corrected her playfully, realizing a little too late that I would have been better off keeping my mouth shut. "When girls and boys grow up, they start to like each other." "Yeah, they hold hands and do all kinds of gross stuff, like kissing!" Ella remarked with disgust. "Aunt Cindy, is that where babies come from? Mom and Dad tell me that babies come from hospitals, but Benjy says that they come after people have sex." "Uh, that's..." I stammered, desperately trying to think of a way to change the subject of the conversation. "Well, you see, it's..." "What does having sex mean, Aunt Cindy?" Right then, Kate came upstairs. "How are you guys doing here?" she asked with a bright smile on her face. "Oh--fine, just fine," I said. "We're having a great time." "Ella, your mommy and daddy just called me," Kate said. "They said they are home now and asked me to tell you to come home too." "I don't want to!" she protested. "We're not done yet." "You can come see us again tomorrow," I suggested. "Yeah, that's right," Kate accompanied me. "Aunt Cindy will be staying with us for a few more days." "Much to her dismay," I added under my breath but kept my smile on. "Promise we can continue the party then?" Ella said to me. "Promise." "Okay then," she relented. "I have to go. Goodbye, Aunt Cindy." "Goodbye, Ella," I said to her. "I'll come with you, Ella, and walk you home," Kate offered. "Cindy, why don't you pick up the toys and then come downstairs. The food's ready soon." The perky little girl got on her feet and walked down the stairs with Kate. While tea parties would in all likelihood never be my forte, she had actually managed to brighten up a dull day, as far as I was concerned. There was now at least one person in the world who would sincerely miss having "Cindy Caldwell" around, and while I still passionately hoped that Mandy could get me out of this skinsuit, that hope had become mixed with a tiny twinge of guilt. It was some time after dinner that Amanda Elkins finally arrived. She called Kate on her cell just beforehand, and we both went outside on the porch steps to welcome her. She parked her car in front of our house and stepped out as we were watching. The woman was perhaps in her late thirties or early forties, with a tall and willowy body and delicate facial features that could almost have belonged to an ex-model. Her two most striking physical features were the flaming red hair, which was tastefully cut and just about reached her shoulders, and captivating light blue eyes. When she looked straight at me, her gaze felt downright piercing, but this was contrasted by her warm, reassuring smile. Judging by her dimples, she indeed smiled and laughed a lot. She was dressed in a dark-colored women's business attire with a knee-length pencil skirt and a beige overcoat, an outfit that would have been equally suitable for office work or an informal evening out with friends. She carried a large black bag on her shoulder, and I hoped that the cure for my condition would be there. "Hi!" she said to Kate and hugged her. Elkins' voice was just like I had imagined it, a lilting mezzo soprano. "Good to see you again." "Likewise," Kate replied. "You have no idea how glad we both are to see you." "I won't make any promises," she said, "but I'll try my very best, of course." "May I introduce you to your patient?" Kate continued, gesturing at me. Elkins turned to look at me and then approached me. Not overly eager to hug her right there and then, I extended my arm to shake hands with her instead. She took my hand and greeted me, "Very nice to meet you! I'm Amanda, but please call me Mandy." She looked me over and added, "My, you do look very nice, Buffy." I did my best to restrain myself from wincing. Kate hurried to interject, "She doesn't really like being called that, Mandy." "Oh, I'm sorry!" she gushed. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I didn't know. Have you decided on your new name yet, sweetie?" "Yes, I have," I said, trying not to show that I hated the pet name "sweetie" as well. "Michael will do fine, thank you." "If you don't mind me saying, it sounds a little funny for someone like you," she commented. "Maybe, but that's the name I was given at birth," I declared, "and that's the name I'll be buried with." "Oh, I see," Mandy said and smiled again. "Michael it is, then. By the way, how are you feeling, generally speaking? I know you probably aren't exactly overjoyed with being in that body, but do you have any physical discomfort?" "Not really," I replied. "My body feels young but my mind is very old." "Alright. So, would you like me to begin the examination right away, or do you have something else in mind?" "Right away, if you will. I'd like to get out of this skin as soon as possible." We went inside, and then I was examined by Mandy in the living room. Actually 'examine' may not be the best word to describe the whole thing: I had expected her to bring various sorts of potions and a ton of strange instruments with her, but instead she simply told me to take my shirt off and lean forward so she could take a good look at my back. I assumed she was searching for the infamous black spot like Kate and Sammy had done at the party. She also felt my back with the palm of her hand, and I thought I could feel a slight tingling, similar to the sensation caused by a very small electric current, whenever and wherever she made physical contact with my body. The whole procedure was over in less than three minutes, and then she told me I could dress up again. I was very anxious to hear the news, and as I was still pulling the top and the the shirt back on, I asked her, "So, what's the diagnosis?" Mandy didn't say anything at first. She seemed preoccupied, almost mentally absent for a while, and she looked past me with an expressionless, blank face as if in a shock of some sort. It took her a while to regain her composure, and even when her reply came, it was uncharacteristically quiet. Turning to look me straight in the eye, she said, "I think we'd better sit down and discuss this thing together." My heart sank at that instant. I was certain that I had heard a tone of resignation in her voice, signaling to me that my battle to regain my old male form was irrevocably lost. All that she could do now was to offer consolation and maybe a shoulder to cry on, but that was it. I was a hopeless case. I felt numb all over and even a bit nauseous as I walked to the kitchen table and sat down opposite to Mandy and my sister, waiting to see what was to come next. "Look," Mandy began, still sounding somewhat apprehensive, "I think I need to describe the situation to you as it is and not sugarcoat it with anything. You deserve the truth." "Let's hear it," Kate said impatiently. "The thing is, Michael's transformation has almost reached the point of no return," Mandy explained. "When you put on a skin symbiont, it immediately merges with you on molecular level. It entirely reconstructs your body, but it stores the information it needs to reverse the process. To be honest, I don't know for sure what the memory is like, where it's located or how precisely it works, but anyway, that's what happens. Be it magic or some mystical alien technology, I don't know. However, the thing is that if you keep wearing the symbiont long enough, it assumes you have chosen to be its host for life and it starts to erase the information. After that's done, there's absolutely no way to restore your previous body." "Why do they do that?" Kate wondered. "I believe they either evolved naturally or were artificially designed that way in the distant past. They're meant to seek a host and then merge with him or her. The techniques I have learned allow me to make them relatively tame, so to speak. They don't start the irreversible process immediately, but they will start it eventually." "But you told us it would be completely safe to wear them," Kate pointed out, "even for several days." "Normally it is, and the final stage shouldn't kick in until a couple of weeks or so. I just don't know what went wrong--not yet. This is very unusual." "Where do they come from, anyway?" my sister inquired. Had I been less preoccupied with my own condition, I would have asked Mandy that and a number of other similar questions, but right there and then I could only think of myself. "I'm not sure," Mandy confessed. "I know a lot about making them--or, actually, breeding them. I know how to make them assume a certain form and things like that, but their origin is a mystery to everyone as far as I've been able to find out. Maybe they came from outer space thousands of years ago. Besides, I've taken an oath of secrecy. I can't reveal any of the details of symbiont breeding to outsiders. I trust you understand me." "Of course." "Anyway, back to the issue at hand, namely Michael. The Buffy skin he's wearing hasn't quite reached the irreversible stage just yet, but it's really close now. We need to act fast if we want to stop it." "Fine," I said. I felt my energy returning after realizing there might still be a glimmer of hope left after all. "Let's act then by all means. What should we do? Get some of that potion of yours? Would that do the trick?" "The standard mix is nowhere near powerful enough," Mandy told me. "I'll have to make some of my extra strong formula and bring it here. That'll take two or three days, and during that time the transformation will progress further." She paused for a short, dramatic moment. When she continued, she spoke in a tone that was simultaneously soothing and caring but also very serious as though to emphasize the gravity of the situation and the decision I would have to make. "Michael, you have two options here. You can either stay the way you are now and simply accept the fact that you're female for the rest of your natural born life, or you can allow me to try to restore your original form. However, the second option means I'd have to attempt removing your symbiont by force, and there are big risks involved because the transformation is so far along. You might be injured, and that could be anything from small scars to deformed limbs or damaged internal organs. I'm sorry to say this, but it is even conceivable although not likely that the process will be fatal. The choice is yours." "Good," I said, without hesitating for a second. "I choose the restoration." "You should think this over very, very carefully," she instructed me. "You might not fully appreciate the risks." "I'm aware of them but I trust you and your skills." Mandy let out a polite, subdued laughter. "I'm glad to hear that, Michael, but if I could give you an advice... Do you know what it would be?" "No, I don't." "I'd stay female if I were you. Now, I understand you don't like the idea, but the restoration is really difficult and there are a thousand things that might go wrong. I'm certain your family would prefer a living, healthy daughter to a dead or mutilated son." "That's true!" Kate said, her voice slightly trembling. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you!" "May I say how I feel about this?" I asked. "Of course," Kate said. Mandy nodded in agreement. "I don't want to live like this. I'm a freak of nature, woman on the outside, man inside. I'll do anything to get back to normal, even if it means risking my life or at least my health. I think it's worth it." I had made this little speech with my voice as full of finality as possible, and it had been intended to be the closing statement on this topic. But the women had other ideas; Mandy looked at me sympathetically, reached out and took a hold of one of my hands and said softly, "Honey, I understand you're in pain, but I think it's time for you to expand your views. You're not a freak. You're a lovely young woman who's got the world as her playground. I can see you're still thinking of yourself as a man in drag, but you should let go of that idea. Why not make peace with your feminine side and embrace the new you, instead of fighting it every chance you get? Just look at yourself! You're intelligent, beautiful, kind, caring... an ideal combination. Millions of women and even quite a few men would kill to get what you have. That's the truth. You could be happy and successful beyond your wildest dreams." "But this is not who I am!" I insisted. "I don't want to walk around looking like Sarah Michelle Gellar for the rest of my life! I'm neither a true woman nor even unique, but a carbon copy of another human being! Isn't that just fu... frigging great?" "Actually," Mandy corrected me, "you're wrong on both counts. Your body is modeled after Buffy the character, not Sarah the actress. There are several differences, some of which you can easily notice; for example, you're a natural blond whereas she's a brunette. So, as you see, you actually are still unique. And as far as being a true woman is concerned, you are that as well. Just as much as I am, or Kate is." "That's total nonsense." "Honestly, sweetie," she went on, still sounding as reassuring and friendly as ever. "You can go to a gynecologist first thing tomorrow and have your body checked, if you like. It's 100 per cent female, down to your chromosomes. The only difference between you and me is that I was born this way and you weren't, but that doesn't make you any less of a girl than me. As a matter of fact, you can get pregnant and you can even give birth to perfectly normal children. Come on, think about that! You've been given the gift of bringing new life into the world! If I was in your shoes, that alone would be enough to convince me to stay a woman." "It's different for you," I argued. "Like you said, you were born that way and you developed naturally into womanhood. I'm still a man in my mind and will always be." "But are you sure that's the way it has to be?" she asked. "Have you ever considered the possibility that you might actually be happier as a woman? I realize I may offend you by saying this and I'm truly sorry if I do, but I've been told that you weren't always too thrilled with being a man. You didn't get that many girls and didn't feel attractive." "That's the truth," I admitted. "There's no reason for me to be offended because of that." "I'm not saying you were unattractive as a man. In fact, I think you didn't look bad at all, and I'm certain that lots of young ladies would agree with me. Still, your self-esteem was kind of low, probably even too low. Well, now you have the chance of starting all over again, and I've got to say you have been dealt the winning hand here. To put it simply, you're a hottie. Getting dates won't ever be a problem for you again, no way. Men will be all over you, sister!" "That's exactly what I needed to hear!" I exclaimed in anguish. This quite obviously made Mandy realize that she had gone too far and in the wrong direction with her persuasion attempt. She promptly changed her tactic, adding almost hastily, "Of course, you may prefer the same sex just as well. I bet you'd be equally popular in lesbian circles. I'm personally not very familiar with them, but that's what I think. And there's a lot more to life than dating and mating. If you stay in the skin and become its permanent host, it'll keep your body young, healthy and strong for many, many years to come." I spent a few moments pondering the situation in silence, and Mandy was waiting for me to continue the conversation. She probably did not want me to think that she was trying to coax me into making a decision that would satisfy her but not myself, and so the proverbial ball was in my court. Admittedly, she had made a few good points, but the argument involving men getting interested in me had been a serious mistake on her part. "Let's assume for a moment," I said, "that things go according to the worst case scenario and I end up being stuck as Buffy Summers or whatever this form is best called. What happens to me?" "Essentially nothing," came Mandy's answer. "You'll go on living as before, only as a female. You'll grow old and die eventually, of course, but chances are your life is a long and fulfilling one." "Yes, but I mean mentally, not physically. What will I be like?" "Not much different. You'll retain all of your memories, and your skills, like the ability to drive a car or do math, will remain as they are. Your behavior might become a little more feminine; you know, you could be a bit more emotional at times and you could have a sudden urge to cover all the couches and armchairs and beds with small, colorful pillows, but that's about it. Basically you'll be the female version of yourself." I couldn't help but smile at the pillow comment, and Kate and Mandy smiled as well. However, I had begun to feel that they both were absolutely bent on persuading me to remain this way. Kate's motivation was most likely my welfare, but I had started to suspect that Mandy had some sort of a hidden agenda. Perhaps she was simply reluctant to take responsibility in case the restoration process went wrong, but somehow I had the impression that it wasn't her only reason to advice me against undergoing the operation. At any rate, I pushed these thoughts to the background and continued, a bit awkwardly, "What about... um, my sexuality?" "What about it?" Mandy asked and smiled reassuringly again. "Don't be shy, just ask away." "A skin turned Larry Simmons into a completely unhinged nymphomaniac. Is there a chance that... something similar will happen to me as well?" "No," Mandy chuckled. "I don't think that's likely at all. Sure, there may be some minor hormonal imbalances at first, but they should work themselves out without much trouble. Don't worry; you won't become a sex machine, unless you want to." "Yeah, about that," I continued. "I'm also a little concerned about my... orientation. Does it change?" "That's a bit complicated," Mandy said. "I take it you used to be a straight guy; am I right?" "Yes, and I still am a straight guy." "Very well. When a person ends up being a host of a symbiont that changes their sex, it usually adjusts their sexual preferences to match. So, for instance, if there is a gay woman who puts on a male skin and never takes it off again, she's likely to end up being attracted to men." "I don't think I like where this is going," I commented warily. "As for you," Mandy continued, "you're starting off as what is technically speaking a lesbian, since you're into females for now. It might well be the end of story, but I would say you'll probably start eying men in a few weeks. What then typically follows is a brief period of bisexuality when you make all kinds of experimentations. Again, the change might end there, but it is much more likely that you eventually become essentially straight again, a heterosexual woman who perhaps enjoys the occasional lesbian fling." "Oh my God," I sighed and shook my head slowly. "Look, no one can say that this will absolutely, definitely happen to you, Michael, but it is what you should be prepared for." "That settles it," I said. "I'm definitely opting for the restoration." "I understand that it sounds disgusting to you now," Mandy argued, "but when the time comes, it will feel completely natural. You won't suddenly wake up a bisexual or straight girl one morning. The transition takes time and happens in small steps, but it happens all the same. There's absolutely no reason why you should resist it." "I've made up my mind," I declared. "Change me back, Mandy, by whatever means necessary. As long as it doesn't kill me straight away, you'll have my consent." "I see," she said, sounding a bit disappointed. "I'll do what I can. However, I would still like you to get a good night's sleep on this and reconsider your decision in the morning. If you change your mind, just call me." "I believe my mind is pretty much made up," I said, "and it usually stays that way." "Can you say when you'll have the antidote ready?" Kate asked her. "It's going to take a little time, so probably around Wednesday," Mandy said and rose to her feet, with Kate and me following suit. "Well then, I guess I have to go now. I still need to check on your friends." "Do you know the way?" Kate inquired. "You gave pretty good directions, so I believe I won't get lost. I'll call you if I do." "Okay." "Oh, and Michael, I meant to ask you one more thing. Your friends--how do they feel about this?" "Well," I responded, "if you'd like to know whether or not they want to change back, then I'd say the answer is yes. Jake in particular is really looking forward to shedding the Willow skin. If I were you, I'd start with him. The poor guy's probably climbing the walls already." Suddenly Mandy seemed to brighten up as if she had just remembered something. "Oh, Jake White," she mused. "So that's him! Thanks for your advice, but I'm thinking I'll save him for last instead." This perplexed me. "Why?" "We have a kind of history." "What do you mean? History as in... What, a relationship?" "No, no," she chuckled. "Nothing like that. I once happened to run into him on one of those Internet forums, and let's just say we didn't exactly agree on everything. It got a little nasty." "But you will help him, won't you?" I pleaded. It was just our luck that the only person who could possibly get us out of this mess was an enlightened liberal skinsuit creator and one of the many who had taken offense at Jake's opinions online. "Sure I will," she assured me, "but maybe a little later. He can consider this sensitivity training." "Besides," Kate added, "he does smell better now." "That's not very nice," I protested. "We're talking about my best friend here!" "Don't worry," Mandy said. "I may be tempted to bring up his misogyny and some other views when I visit him, but I won't do anything to harm him. I promise." "Fair enough." "Now, Michael, could you please excuse us for a moment? I need to talk with your sister in private." "Okay," I said. "As long as you two aren't planning to arrange some of that sensitivity training for me as well." I went compliantly upstairs to my room as the women continued their discussion downstairs. However, I regarded it as imperative to know what they were up to (or, to put it in another way, to be absolutely certain that they weren't scheming anything unpleasant behind my back), so I carefully opened my window, hoping that they might go outside and their voices would carry. Eavesdropping was not something I normally did without hesitation, but I viewed it as a lesser evil in this case. Sure enough, I soon heard the front door of our house slam shut, and then my ears, which had become quite a bit more sensitive than they used to be when I was still in my own form, picked up the females talking. I could only hear them barely but nevertheless well enough to make out almost all the words, which would probably have been mere mumble with my old hearing. "...could come around," Kate was telling Mandy. "She might still get used to the idea, but that's the way she's always been. Anti-change, if you know what I mean. She wants everything to remain the same forever." Save for the pronoun, her description fit me so well that further listening in was warranted in my opinion. "It's understandable," Mandy commented. "Nobody can just slip into another body and gender and be instantly comfortable with that. These things take time." "Guess so," Kate said. "She's in a very delicate phase at the moment. She'll be needing all the support you can give her. You have to show her that being a woman has its upsides too, not only downsides. Be there for her." "Understood. It might actually be fun." "Of course it will be! Even though she's a little older than you, going by both her actual and biological age, you are now the big sister in the house." "Yeah." "Whatever you do," Mandy continued, "make sure she doesn't sit in her room all day long. Take her out to town, go shopping with her, whatever. She will probably be very reluctant at first, but keep at it. Don't force her into anything she's not ready for, but don't let her curl up and disconnect from the rest of human society either. Gentle but firm, that's the way to go." "I know how to handle her," Kate said. "I talked her into coming to our costume party, and I can talk her into other things as well. It's really not that hard." "Manipulating little brat," I muttered. "And remember to touch her as much as possible." "What?" Kate almost exclaimed. "Touch her?" "Yeah. Give her hugs, hold her hand, groom her hair," Mandy explained. "Things like that. It's a good way to let her know that she's still loved and cared for, and it'll also help prevent her from developing a fear of touch. Many transformees are so ill at ease in their new bodies that they can't stand even the smallest touch from another human being. Sooner or later that leads to severe psychological problems." "No shit," I said to myself. "Kate, these following weeks and months will be crucial. If things go terribly wrong, your sister may end up in serious trouble. On the other hand, it's quite possible and even likely that, with your help, she'll become a happy, well-adjusted, successful, outgoing and sociable young woman her family can be proud of. That's our goal." "Definitely," Kate confirmed. "That's what I want." "She might resist in the beginning, but she'll thank you later. You can rest assured." Mandy was about to enter her car at this point, and even though the women said a few more words to each other, I was no longer interested. I had heard plenty. Kate reentered the house just as I was descending the stairs. I wondered whether or not it would be sensible to talk to her about some of my fears; now I knew for sure that she was against my decision to be transformed back at all costs, and Mandy was apparently trying to strengthen that stance. She would have to keep what I was going to say to herself and not share it with Elkins. "Cindy," she called, "come here for a sec." I did as she asked and came face to face with her near the kitchen door. "Hey," Kate said, smiling, "Mandy gave me some good advice. I'm going to be your guide in your journey to womanhood." "Like Virgil was to Dante," I commented. "He too went through Hell." "And ended up in Heaven," Kate added without missing a beat. "Anyway, Mandy warned that you shouldn't just sit here all the time. Come Monday, we're going to hit the town and go shopping! Is that alright with you?" "Whatever you say," I replied and sighed. "Some more enthusiasm, please!" she prodded. "Try saying things like, 'Yippee! New clothes!' If the others like to come, we'll bring them along." "Look," I said in a more serious tone, "I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but that may be too soon. I need some more time." "We might not have more time than that," she pointed out. "Who knows, maybe Mandy will get her potion ready ahead of time and bring it here first thing Tuesday morning. Then the opportunity's lost." "Um, about that. I'm pretty concerned, to tell you the truth. Somehow I get the feeling she's not overly interested in helping me." Kate looked surprised at this confession. "What makes you think that?" she asked quizzically. "I'm sure she'll be doing her very best." "I hope so," I said, "but didn't it sound odd when she started that 'I- don't-know-if-anything-can-be-done' mantra of hers even before she had set foot in the house? Before she had taken one single look at me, she was already saying that! And later she claimed something to the effect that trouble with these skinsuits is rare but still there apparently are lots of people who have gotten stuck for life--you know, what with the scenarios of sexuality evolving and so on. There must be at least some cases before you can talk about statistics and likelihoods." "Maybe those people were like Larry," Kate suggested. "Perhaps they wanted to stay in their skins." "Some probably did," I conceded, "but not necessarily all. You know, I think I smell a rat." "What are you saying? That there's this huge conspiracy, and Mandy's involved?" "I suppose anything's possible." "And what's their ultimate goal? To turn us all into Buffy characters and make it real?" "You're making fun of me, aren't you?" "I suppose anything's possible," she said with a chuckle and a wide smile. "Now, let's forget about your bad feelings and start planning ahead. I can't wait to show the world my new sister!" (To be continued...)