Not Very Nice People - Chapter 3/11: Us Girls free porn video

NOT VERY NICE PEOPLE by Crazy Baron Chapter 3: Us Girls Synopsis: Mike Caldwell wakes up in a place and a time which are completely different from the ones he went to sleep in. Once more, he is forced to reevaluate his identity, his memories and his conception of reality-- and maybe clean out his closet as well. ***** This is finally it. I've waited for this for so long, all through those untold days and hours, yearning silently for just this moment... He enters the room, and my heart flutters. God, he's gorgeous! The toned abs, the chiseled chin, the soulful gray eyes, the butt... He is considerate and sweet in a manly way, masculine but not ridiculously macho. His body and his mind are one irresistible package, and it's all mine. "Hi, babe," he says in a soft, sexy voice and with an alluring smile. The sight and sound of him makes my nipples harden. "You won't believe how much I want you." "How about you show me, lover boy," I respond in kind and turn so that I'm lying on my back on top of the luxurious dark purple satin bedsheet. My naked body is on display and I can feel his eyes devouring every last square inch of me. He obviously wants me as much as I want him, and knowing that fills me with both tender love and animalistic lust for him. "I'll do just that," he says and steps closer. He is naked like me, with his engorged male member standing to attention, and I have to summon all my willpower if I'm going to take my eyes off it. I need it, and I need it terribly. My nether region, neglected for far too many nights, is starved for him, and it is busy sending tiny pulses of tingling all over me. He climbs onto the bed and settles next to me. I stare him in the eyes, beckoning him closer. His scent overpowers my senses: a classy aftershave and fragrance combined with his own musky male odor, a mix that would be enough by itself to drive me crazy. The warmth of his body radiates to my bare skin as a precursor of his touch; his strong fingers caress my cheek, and I turn my head to catch them playfully in my mouth, but they're gone before I get my chance. He more than makes up for this little disappointment immediately by pressing his lips onto mine. Our kiss is fiery, full of pent-up passion. I shove my tongue hungrily into his mouth and he reciprocates; I fling my arms around his neck to keep him close. Even though I feel I'm not quite done yet, he gently but firmly pulls away and then plants his lips on my neck. His probing fingers slowly trace the outline of my body, down my right breast, to my side, all the way to my hips. I let out a sigh as my nipples become even harder than they already were. His other hand cups my left breast and squeezes it. "You're burning up," he whispers into my ear and nibbles on the earlobe a little. "I can feel it, babe." I'm about to say to him that he should do something about it, but another sensation distracts me. He is running his finger along my moist slit and then slips it inside deftly, almost furtively. I moan and bite my lip. The heat between my legs increases with every second, and so does the moistness. It's not as if I really needed any of this foreplay as I'm ready to go--I have been ever since I saw him standing naked in the doorway--but delaying the main event a little never fails to elevate our passion to new heights. He knows his stuff, and he knows me. He puts in another finger, and then another, rubbing my clitoris slowly with a circular motion and in an intoxicatingly slow and steady pace. That is all it takes. A small eruption happens instantly, before I can attempt to control it, and releases its energy in my abdomen. It courses all through my form in a matter of seconds. "Aa-ah!" I yelp and throw my head back. He retracts his fingers, gives me a mischievous smile and then kisses my breast, twirling his tongue around the nipple. His teasing and the emptiness between my legs are together driving me absolutely insane. "Please," I say in a begging tone. "I want your cock. Now. Please, give it to me..." He doesn't respond with words--no need for that. Instead, he again kisses my neck and then positions his body fully on top of mine. I spread my legs eagerly and feel myself opening up. Doing one last trick to raise my anticipation to ever greater levels, he lets the tip of his penis rub against my vaginal lips. That alone makes me gasp involuntarily. The next second he is inside of me. "Ow!" I moan as he pushes himself deeper, and my muscles clench to keep the welcome, lovely intruder from pulling away too fast. He is big, that is for sure; every time with him feels like the first. The penis is long and thick and it fills me incredibly, down to the last inch. "Wow, you're so tight, honey!" he comments appreciatively although we have done this many times before. "Does this hurt?" "Not really, no," I say, drawing air suddenly into my lungs. I'm not being entirely truthful, as the maddening combination of feelings emanating from my private parts does have tiny twinges of pain mixed with all the pleasure. "Don't stop. Please, don't you stop fucking me..." The dirty word is the perfect choice here to express just how badly I need him. He is happy to oblige and begins to move, very slowly at first and only gradually picking up speed. We find the optimal rhythm in no time. As he pushes in and again pulls out, the friction in my girl parts is transformed into pure, unadulterated delight that flows everywhere and electrifies my entire body. His breathing is becoming faster, like mine, and I can smell his sweat. I writhe under him and close my eyes, biting my lip again. This was truly worth the wait! Wanting to give him even better access, I grab a firm hold of the mattress with both hands and wrap my legs around his pelvis, starting to respond to his thrusts more vigorously. He's downright impaling me now, so forcefully that I almost fear he could perhaps rip my innards apart, but soon I no longer care. I shriek loudly and arch my back. I have no idea how much more of this I can take, and I never want it to stop. A huge explosion is gathering its strength within me. Every push by him brings me nearer to the edge, and on every push I believe I will reach my climax, but somehow it keeps building instead. Is that because of his skill as a lover? If so, the guy is simply incredible, flawlessly in tune with me and my needs. His pace suddenly quickens. In a final massive crescendo, he assaults my vagina mercilessly and I whimper with my eyes tightly shut--and then the orgasm comes. There are no words to describe what it's like: I am on fire, my every cell is filled with gasoline and ignited at the same time. It surges through me in unstoppable waves that envelop and drown me completely. My body convulses from my head to my toes. A fierce, shrill cry of ecstasy leaves my mouth. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn't have held it back. He groans and pushes deep one last time. I feel his cock pulsating, discharging its huge load into my depths. We both are euphoric and exhausted. He nearly collapses on top of me, with his shrinking penis still inside of me (I always want him to stay as long as possible), and after we have had a chance to catch our breath, he turns on his side so we can cuddle properly. I'm pressed against his chest and his groin, and his strong arm reaches around me. My heart is bursting with love for him, now that the lust part has been taken care of. "Was it good for you?" I ask him in a quiet voice, speaking against his chest. "As good as it can possibly get," he says, moving a strand of my hair to the side and kissing my forehead. "You're my girl. I want you forever." "You have me," I say with a smile and snuggle still closer to him. In a flash of sheer, ice cold terror, I forced my eyes open and scrambled out of bed in panic, sending the blanket flying to the floor. My brain, still half asleep and trying to separate the dream from the reality, was suddenly bombarded by sensations that should not have been there: my skin, much too smooth and supple; my hair, long, heavy and cascading down my back; my limbs, lithe and small; my belly, completely flat; my chest, feeling the weight of two soft mounds of flesh; and my crotch--- To add to that, I realized at once that I was no longer at the motel, but in my own room in the Caldwell family home. The lights were out in the whole house, but there could be no doubt about it. Despite the fact that this turn of events would have been bizarre enough in its own right, it was far easier for me to accept than the change my physical form had apparently gone through. This had to be another dream, I told myself, even though the physical fight-or-flight reaction was quickly purging the remnants of sleep from my head. This could not be real! My hopes were quickly fading away and a sickening certainty that I had relapsed, or been pulled back into the alternate universe, was settling in. I had no real need to confirm this, but I nevertheless sprinted across the hallway to the upstairs bathroom--my feet carried me with effortless ease and all but silently--and turned on the light. Although I already knew what to expect, the sight in the mirror hit me like a punch in the stomach. Buffy Anne Summers, with a distressed, scared look on her cosmetics-free but stunningly beautiful face and her blond hair slightly disheveled, was staring back at me. She was very close to tears, as was I. "This... this can't be! This can't be!" I muttered, shaking my head, and she repeated my words back to me in a girlish, melodic voice. "This can't fucking be!" I was fully aware that I was not supposed to be here, but on a road trip to Texas with my friends Jake, Scott and Charlie. I had gone to bed in a motel room some 250 miles from Greensville last night. This timeframe was more than ten years in the past, and most importantly, it had never actually happened. It was a make-believe dimension, a non- existent world with transforming skinsuits and people conjured up by my imagination, no doubt courtesy of a psychosis. A hallucination or a dream, there was no other way to explain it. Still, everything about it felt perfectly, frighteningly real to me. Just like before, I had been torn away from a normal life in the future without warning of any kind, and now it was nothing more than a hypothetical idea, something that had no actual substance. All my senses were telling me that I was unarguably standing in front of the sink in the upstairs bathroom of our house, inhabiting the Buffy body once more and clad in Kate's white silk pajamas, a matching set of shirt and pants. The shock gradually started to give way to bitter, angry disappointment. I had been cheated of a normal life, whether because of a mental illness or a baffling distortion in the structure of reality itself. And not only that: even if this timeframe had to be accepted as true--or, at the least, equally true as the more sensible future one (save for the abnormalities I had seen at Kenny Taylor's home)--Amanda Elkins, the maker of this Buffy suit, had helped me out of it successfully and I was meant to be in my own shape. I distinctly remembered all of that. Why and how, in the name of God, could that have been reversed? Who had done this to me? Hot tears were waiting for their chance to flow, but I managed to keep them in check, however barely. Another emotion that wasted no more time in assaulting me was shame. I had woken up after dreaming of passionate sex with a man, and to be sure, my feminine organs had reacted as they would have if the encounter had happened in the waking world. They were slathered in a liquid that was slowly turning into a disgusting sticky substance as it was beginning to dry, and I had no choice but to clean myself right away. It was difficult for me to think of anything that could have added insult to injury more poignantly than having to scrub my new vulva after going to sleep a few hours ago as a completely normal man who believed he would forever more be free from this madness. Taking the bull by the horns, I locked the door, pulled down my pants, sat on the toilet seat and went to work with the small hand-held shower head attached to the sink faucet. I cleaned myself carefully, ignoring the feelings and intrusive thoughts the lady parts were generating in my brain, and then tore a couple of pieces of toilet paper off the roll to dry myself. My pajama pants had suffered fairly little contamination, but I would have rather tossed them in the laundry hamper, just to be rid of the feeling of dirtiness; unfortunately, though, no clean change of clothes was available in the bathroom, so I had to content myself with cleaning the sticky spots with some more toilet paper I first moistened under the faucet. The result was satisfactory, all things considered, and I pulled the pants back on as I stood up. After I was done and in the process of washing my hands, there was a soft knock on the door. Even though I was decent again, it scared me so badly that I very nearly jumped into the air. "Buffy?" Kate's voice carried from the outside. She was trying to be as quiet as possible, so as not to wake everybody in the house. "Are you in there?" I toweled my hands and went to unlock the door, letting my sister in. She was wearing an expression of concern even before she had taken a good look at me, and as she was studying me with her eyes, it became one of outright worry and anxiety. "What's wrong?" she asked me. "Did you have a nightmare?" "Yeah," I said quietly. "What was it about? Were you in Sunnydale again?" "No. Nothing like that." "Oh. Was it like, you know... a girl's dream?" I cast my eyes down and nodded. "You poor thing!" she gushed and came up to me. She pulled me into a warm hug and held me tightly. "It's alright; it wasn't real. Are you feeling embarrassed?" "I am." "It's all over now," she reassured me, squeezed me once more and then slowly loosened her embrace. "Do you want to talk about it with me?" "Not really," I said. "It was... No, let's forget about it." "You know, it's perfectly normal for us women to have dreams like that sometimes. It's just your body's way of telling you---" "I'm not a woman," I corrected her. She sighed. "We've had this talk before. You can still consider yourself a male soul or something if you want to, but your body is female, through and through. It will remind you of that every once in a while." "This is all wrong!" I burst out. "Kate, I shouldn't be like this. Mandy got me out, didn't she? She came here and helped me out of this skinsuit! I'm... I should be back to normal!" She gave me a sad smile and shook her head. "No. That didn't happen. She said she would do her best, but..." "That's not true. I have a crystal clear recollection of how she came to see me and how she got me out of this stupid suit in this very room! We went up here and she told me to lie down on the floor, precisely where we now stand, and---" "And then she realized she couldn't do it," Kate completed my sentence. "Your transformation was way too far along, plain and simple. She said so herself to you and me." For a brief while, I felt a totally irrational prick of anger towards my sister. She was speaking to me in a soothing, sad tone, but it suddenly came across as patronizing to me. Had she somehow engineered this in concert with the Elkins woman? I could perhaps give up the safe normalcy of the future world and write it off as a comforting fantasy, albeit not without extreme reluctance and stinging bitterness, but I would not allow anyone to rob me of my being restored to my own shape. It was my right to have my male form back, even in this world! "What the hell?" I protested. "I mean, she succeeded! I'm supposed to be a man!" "No, she did not succeed," Kate said gently and patiently. A little tear was shining in the corner of her eye, and my rising wrath evaporated at that instant, with sadness moving in. "I don't know where you got the idea that she managed to remove the skin against all odds. Maybe it was another dream of yours, but please believe me, it's not what really happened. Look in the mirror if you doubt it." I instinctively glanced in the direction of the wall mirror and saw a gorgeous, petite blond young woman of about 20 take a peek at me in turn. She was about the same age or maybe a year or two older than Kate, who had also magically reverted to her late teens self. My sister was no longer the thirty-something woman who had wished me a safe trip to Texas less than 24 hours ago, going by my subjective reckoning. "I don't understand this," I whispered and realized I again had to fight back tears myself. My lips were trembling slightly. "Me neither, but that's the way things went in the end. I'm so sorry for you." "But Jake got out of that Willow skin, right?" I asked, brightening up a little. "Was it just me who---?" "No, you guys are all stuck," she informed me. "Jake as Willow, Charlie as Cordelia, Scott as Dawn. Yeah, and Larry as Faith, but he said he wanted to be a woman and he loves to be her in particular, so I figure he doesn't count." I swallowed hard and tried to collect my thoughts. As I remembered it, Jake had also been restored to his original form without problems and only Charlie and Scott were doomed to stay in their costumes for the rest of their lives, but evidently this detail had been altered too. Either I had indeed self-hypnotized myself into honestly believing in a bit more palatable version of the actual events, or else my personal history and perchance the entire timeline were being retroactively changed. "What day is it?" I inquired. "Thursday," Kate said, "or actually Friday, by now. It's around 1:30 a.m." "And Mandy came to visit--when? On Tuesday?" "I think it was Tuesday. Two full days ago." She let out another sad sigh. "What happened, Buffy? You seemed to be doing so much better last night. You laughed and joked with me and even said you wanted a cute guy to fool around with when we were sitting on my bed. I seriously thought you were getting over your depression once and for all." "Please don't call me Buffy," I pleaded in a resigned tone. "Yesterday you were fine with it, as long as I promised to call you something else, like Cindy, in public. You said yourself that you may be Mike in your head but you're Buffy Summers at heart." "Did Stevie Hillwood drop by to see us too? I must have been high on some pretty strong stuff," I remarked with a subdued chuckle. "You were high on being a cool, lovely young woman," Kate said. "Why does it always have to turn out like this, anyway? You're happy and content and about to accept your new self in the evening, and you wake up sobbing and scared out of your wits in the morning. First there was the Sunnydale nightmare, and now this. It kills me to see you spend whole days suffering for each and every tiny moment of joy that comes your way. It's one step forward, two steps back." "In that case, I guess I'll be more of a man in two weeks than anyone else on this planet," I commented and tried to smile. Kate swallowed a sob and reached out to hug me a second time. She was most likely attempting to comfort herself just as much as me. "Where's Mom?" I asked her after she had released me. "Asleep, hopefully. It's a good thing she has the rest of this week and the first few days of the next week off. We both thought we could hear you wail and got up to check if you needed help. She was on her way here but I told her I would handle this. You see, I feel I'm sort of responsible for you at present." "Because Mandy said you should be?" "I don't need Mandy or anyone else to tell me to take care of you. I put you in that skin and made you wear it until you got stuck. It was a stupid mistake and I can never make that up to you." "Don't be too hard on yourself. You didn't know it was not safe, and I could have demanded to be let out, but for some unfathomable reason I didn't. If we start laying blame on people, I suppose I'm on the list myself." She opened her mouth to say something but seemed to think the better of it and stayed silent. The conversation had run its course for all intents and purposes, and I was beginning to feel too physically tired to analyze my situation any more. "Let's go back to bed," I said and yawned. "It won't do either of us any good to stay awake all night." "It's probably a good idea," she admitted. "Do you think you can sleep, or...?" "Of course I can. Like you said, it was only a dream. I'm not that badly rattled." She followed me to my room and turned on the light while I slid between the sheets. Despite my statement to the contrary, I was not at all certain I could simply relax and then drift off to sleep as though nothing had happened. As soon as I closed my eyes, I still saw the face of the imaginary man in front of me and his naked body on top of mine, and I shuddered in shame. Waking up in this reality and in the Buffy body was bad enough in and of itself; why did there have to be an extra serving of humiliation? "Wait a second," she said and disappeared into her own room, which was parallel to mine and behind just a thin interior wall. For my part, I lay on my back and took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves and calm down. There was nothing else I could do at the moment, I told myself. Panicking would serve no purpose. Kate came back within a minute. She was holding her old stuffed toy tiger in her hand and she showed it to me with a smile. "Here's Mr. Purr," she introduced the tiger, although I knew its name and history well. "I thought you could use his company tonight." "Seriously!" I said and laughed a little. "I've been sleeping without toys since I was five. Besides, tigers don't purr." "He does," Kate argued playfully, "when he's with you or me." "Thanks, but no thanks. I appreciate the gesture, though." "But he'd really like to stay with you and make you feel better," Kate said and moved the tiger so it seemed to be waving its paws at me. "He's good at that. Unless, of course, you'd prefer a hunky human male- --" "No, I prefer Purr protecting your sleep. He's your special friend, after all." "Fine, have it your way," she said. "Anyway, in case if you need something, I'll be right over in my room. You can wake me or Mom up any time." "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind." "Good night." "Night." With that, she turned off the light and left to return to bed as well. The moment I was alone again I very nearly spoke up and asked her to come back but then managed to rein in my insecurity. Regardless of how shaken I was, I still had my pride. Just as I had feared, I failed to get any sleep for several hours. At first, my conscious thoughts started to fade away, giving me hope that I would soon be allowed to forget everything for a while, but then the tiredness gradually passed and I was entirely awake and alert once more, with only my anxiety to keep me company. I tossed and turned in the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position so I could find some rest, but to no avail. The little hours of Friday were no longer so little when I finally did fall asleep, with the blanket wrapped around me and my pillow rearranged for at least the tenth time. With any luck, I reasoned, I just might wake up in the motel room and everything would be back to normal. Tomorrow would be an exhausting day, with hundreds of miles to drive and a less than well-rested night behind me, but somehow I'd pull through. ***** The next day did prove to be taxing, even though I ended up not driving at all. As soon as my mind began to return to wakefulness, I noticed a strange soft lump under my right armpit. Assuming at first that I was hugging the pillow, I slowly opened my eyes, only to realize I was staring Mr. Purr right in the eye. The worn, orange-yellow felt face of the tiger was smiling a wonky smile at me while I desperately tried to comprehend where I was and what I was doing in bed with Kate's old toy tiger. I groaned in disappointment when my mind eventually cleared up sufficiently to piece everything together. I was still in my room and still in a female body. Disregarding my words that I didn't want or need a stuffed animal to sleep with, Kate had snuck Mr. Purr under my arm at some point, and I had spent the rest of the night cuddling it like a little child. My mild embarrassment aside, the tiger had done his job admirably well and kept bad dreams (as well as wet ones) away from me, so he did deserve a gentle pat on the head. I got up and padded to Kate's room, putting the tiger on her bed where he belonged, and then proceeded to the bathroom to start my feminine morning routine. I had to make a conscious effort to remember what to do, aside from washing my face and brushing my teeth. One issue was the attention required by my long hair. I certainly hadn't missed fussing with it, keeping it from getting wet or having to brush it endlessly before it was presentable. Fortunately I could forgo shaving my armpits and legs (which remained virtually hairless, even after all this time) or applying makeup to my face as there were no plans to go anywhere today--as far as I could recall, that is. A little touch of deodorant would do, I determined and left the bathroom to get dressed. As before, someone had laid out a selection of casual clothes for me on the staircase railing. However, I had no clue as to whether I had done that myself the night before or if Kate had given me a hand. At any rate, there was a pink bra, matching panties, a pair of socks, a light rose pink-colored vest top and a black pair of women's sweatpants. A sweater rounded out the outfit, but I decided to omit it as the house was quite warm. The women in the house had a minor tendency to complain about the temperature indoors and they would occasionally put on quite a lot of clothing whereas I hardly ever felt any discomfort in nothing but a t-shirt, boxers and a pair of old jeans, and for the time being, that still seemed to be the case even though my current body was just as female as theirs were. After putting on Kate's sneakers, I headed downstairs in hopes of finding something to eat. My mother and Kate were in the kitchen, and both greeted me cheerily. Nonetheless, I noticed them exchanging quick significant looks as I entered the room. "Breakfast is ready," Mom said. "There's tea, and I made you two cheese and ham sandwiches." "Oh, sounds great!" I commented and took a seat at the table. She poured hot water in my mug, and I soaked a tea bag in the water, dropped two sugar cubes in and stirred the mix carefully with the spoon. A refreshing sweet odor filled the air immediately. As usual, I allowed the drink to cool down a little while I turned my attention to the delicious large sandwiches. "Mike," she asked me in her normal conversational tone, "did you have some kind of trouble last night? I thought I could hear you cry softly in your sleep and then you ran to the bathroom." "No, it was nothing," I replied swiftly but not very convincingly. "I had a bad dream, that's all." "If there's anything bothering you," she went on, "anything whatsoever, you can always tell me and Kate about it. Even if it seems awkward or disgusting, you should definitely tell us." Already feeling marginally more upbeat, I nearly made the mistake of delivering a slightly risqu? quip about how the women had obviously been waiting for the news of my first period starting and would be sadly disappointed, but I thought the better of it and kept quiet. It would be much preferable to save any topic having to do with female anatomy for a considerably later time. "Mr. Purr's services are also available 24 hours a day," Kate pointed out with a smile. "Did you put the tiger there?" I asked her. "I wondered what I was sleeping on when I woke up." "Yeah, well, I figured you might value his presence after the dream, and I guess you did. You looked so totally adorable with him!" she gushed. "In fact, I can show you. If you just wait a minute, I'll go get my camera and---" "What did you do?" I blurted out, feeling a blush creep all over my face. "Did you take pictures of me sleeping with your plushy toy?" "Yeah, sure!" she said nonchalantly. "You won't believe what a cute sight you two made! I---" "Those pics get deleted, as in right this second!" I demanded. "That's an invasion of my privacy!" "Oh, come on!" she defended herself. "Like I said, you looked so sweet no one with a heart and a camera handy could possibly have resisted the temptation. What's more, I'm not going to show the shots to anyone outside of our family. That's a promise." "You'd better remember that," I warned her. "If I catch you giggling over those with Sammy or another of your little pals, I'll..." "Drive a stake through my chest?" she suggested with a sassy and mischievous grin. "Kids!" Mom intervened. "Let's try to behave ourselves. Kate keeps the pictures private, and Mike, you have a little faith in your sister's word." "Fine by me," Kate said. "Alright, deal," I grunted and concentrated on consuming my sandwich. After finishing my breakfast, I came to the realization I had no definite plans for the rest of the day. Although having my stomach full had gone some way towards lifting my spirits from the absolute darkest doldrums, leaving the house and socializing with other people were not attractive prospects there and then. The weather seemed less than inviting as well, so I decided to spend the day indoors and wait to see if there would be any new developments. To pass the time, I took an old family photo album from the living room bookcase and then snuck upstairs to my room to look at the pictures and reminisce in peace. In hindsight, that was probably not a particularly bright idea. Seeing a happy ten-year-old boy posing for his Dad's camera on a summer vacation to Florida, entirely unaware of how his life would turn out in a decade or two, did little to improve my mood but instead served as fuel for my burgeoning depression. It wasn't as though being transformed into a girl was the only unexpected trouble or disappointment I had faced since I had been in elementary school, but I had always assumed, for a good reason, that I would at the very least spend the rest of my days as a man and not have to adapt to my sex changing without warning. Now even that basic cornerstone of my existence had been thrown overboard. I continued to nurse a tiny remaining flicker of hope despite the mounting evidence against it. Granted, this world appeared totally authentic and true to me--but it was all very likely nothing but the result of another psychotic episode and would logically disappear as soon as I received the proper treatment and medication. Off the top of my head, I could have listed several inescapable counterarguments to the assumption that my experiences were occurring in reality; and yet, I somehow knew they were all meaningless and didn't apply to my situation. Complete despair was not far off. At the same time, I felt a tendency towards numb acceptance of being thrown back into this situation. The impossible had long ago become commonplace for me, and my every effort to understand it had been frustrated as I quite simply didn't have the knowledge and intelligence to solve the puzzle. Wondering how my body could be altered into a completely different form or why imaginary people could suddenly retroactively appear in my personal history were interesting questions and also relevant to me in practice, but the answers were probably far beyond my ability to comprehend. "Here you are!" Kate called out, marching into my room. "You've been so quiet I thought you had slipped out of the house without telling anyone." "What for?" I asked rhetorically and put down the album. "Where would I be going and why?" "Oh, I don't know--to do some trouser chasing, you little minx?" "Let's not touch that subject," I warned her. "Right, anyway. I thought now would be a good time to go through the clothes Mandy brought for you yesterday." "Wait, what?" I blurted out. "Did Mandy bring clothes for me?" "Jeez, Cindy, that was just yesterday, like I said!" she exclaimed in an incredulous tone. "Are you having problems with your memory?" "I suppose so. I mean, I was certain Mandy got me out of this skin, and suddenly it's revealed to me that she didn't." "Sorry," she said. "I almost forgot about that. Okay, to recap, there are three huge plastic moving boxes waiting in the guest room, and they're chock full of clothes to die for. Shirts, blouses, tops, skirts, dresses, pants, a couple of jackets, everything you can imagine. Mandy has collected them over the years to match Buffy's outfits as best she can, so they're guaranteed to fit you and look good on you. It's a fantastic start for your new wardrobe!" "Are you saying she's giving it all away?" "In a word, yes. She had them for roleplaying purposes, but since we're not likely to have another session any time soon, she decided to donate most of the stuff to you. It's her way of helping you cope and start your new life. What's more, it's not like she can't afford it. She's pretty well off financially." I raised my eyebrows and sighed simultaneously, not sure what to make of this. "I have to confess I couldn't keep my hands off the dresses," Kate went on. "I simply had to take a sneak peek, and, long story short, there are at least three ones that you must let me borrow! They're not made to be very tight fits so I should be able to get into them without too much hassle. It's just my luck that you're actually smaller than me! I'm a little jealous because of that, to be honest." She sat down next to me on my bed, laid back supporting herself with her elbows and sighed, "If only it was summer instead of this dreary pre-winter! There are so many insanely cool summer dresses in the boxes, but we need to wait for over half a year before we can wear them outside and give the local male population something to look at. Too bad we don't live down in California, like Buffy. The TV show Buffy, of course, not you." "And the knife turns in the wound," I muttered to myself. "While we're on that topic, I was thinking we should get another thing over with. We need to put away your man clothes. I know you're not very keen on that idea, but it's not like you have any use for them anymore. Well, okay, maybe we should hold on to some of the t-shirts. We can wear them as pajama tops to bed." "Can't that wait?" I implored her. "You see, I've got plenty on my plate right now. Sorting through my wardrobe is hardly urgent enough for---" "You're missing the point," she remarked and sat up so that she was looking me in the eyes. "Considering your level of intellect, it has to be on purpose. You want to hang on to a past you can't regain, and your old guy stuff symbolizes that past for you. You think that you'd cut all ties to the person you once were if you threw those comfy jeans and sweaters away." "What's wrong with that?" "Pretty much everything, Cindy," she said, making a point to use the feminine name. "What you need to do is look forward. You have to get a fresh start on your new life as quickly as possible because you can't have your old one back. Sorry, but that's a cold fact. I won't have you slouching around the house in your dirty men's trousers and sweaters you'd now be drowning in, pretending you're a guy. It would be just plain idiotic, not to mention sad. The sooner you move on, the better for you and everybody else." "I'm not against what you say in principle, but---" "But you don't want to do it anyway? Or, if I give you some more time, you promise to come up with a proper excuse? Cindy, sis, that's not how this works. There's a ton of other challenges waiting for you, and they won't ask for your permission when they hit you. Which incidentally reminds me; we still haven't talked about periods and PMS." "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" I accused her, but she was unfazed. "I'm definitely not enjoying this," she retorted. "Until you realize what's good for you, there's just headache and sorrow for both of us." A short silence followed. I was gazing at my feet and biting my lip, trying to think of something sensible to say, but the effort was fruitless. Kate's eyes were on me, and her concern for me was palpable. While she was fond of teasing me and joking at my expense when she was not putting me in my place with a few choice words, her ultimate motive was almost always my welfare and nothing but that. "You know," she said finally in a soft tone, "it's okay for you to cry if you want." "No," I declared and cracked an all but joyless smile. "I'd better not." "What kind of nonsense are you trying to feed me now?" she countered sharply. She wasted no time in getting worked up. "Please don't tell me this is because of that 'men can't cry' bullshit! Jesus! It's the most idiotic rule ever to exist. Guys think that they're weak if they cry, but that's totally wrong. It's more wrong than wrong, and even if it somehow wasn't, it wouldn't apply to you anymore." "That's really not my point," I argued. "I sincerely hope it wasn't," she said. "Look, I don't want to pressure you into being a stereotype. You don't have to aspire to being an ideal girl according to any definition, or share my every thought and view, but you absolutely have to chuck a few of your more backward old ideas. This is not open to negotiation. I'm not just saying so out of some misplaced loyalty to extremist feminism or something like that. This is for your own good." "I understand that. The reason I don't want to cry is... I can't let myself start crying because I don't know if I could stop. I might lose all control over my emotions and never regain it, and that terrifies me." She gave me a gentle hug right away. For a fleeting moment, I felt my eyes moisten and let out a quiet sob, but then the pain passed and I was again the master of myself. "We'll work on that," Kate said to me. "When you're ready, you'll see you can give in to your emotions at times and still be okay." We had lunch together around 1:30. Mom had outdone herself once more with the lasagna, and I helped myself to a large portion despite Kate's little joking remarks how both she and I would soon balloon out of shape if Mom kept spoiling us with such delicious cooking. Not long after the table was cleared, Mom's cell phone rang. She promptly grabbed the phone and went over to the living room to talk, and a comparatively short but lively conversation later she returned to the kitchen. "Kids," she informed us, "Ellen is coming over with Scott. She would like to see us, chat a little and ask for our advice." "What about?" Kate inquired. "Scott and Mike. This... transformation thing has been rather hard for her and her family to deal with, from what I gather, so she's probably looking for some support. Maybe Scott needs a shoulder to lean on too. Don't go anywhere, you guys! We'll be wanting to talk with you." My visit to the Andersons' house last Thursday (which was technically yesterday but several weeks in the past in a subjective sense for me) immediately sprung to my mind. Of course, I was no longer sure if it had actually taken place or not, seeing as my own condition and possibly a host of other things had been mysteriously changed as well, but since Kate had already mentioned Scott being stuck as Dawn, chances were he was now much as I remembered him from that time. If my hunch was indeed right, he would not really need a shoulder to lean or cry on--but I might. The nagging misgivings that had troubled me since Mom's announcement were amplified into discomfort when I first caught a glimpse of our visitors through the kitchen window a couple of hours later. There was Ellen, a well-preserved, shortish and slim middle-aged woman, and a tall brown-haired girl following in her wake towards the main door. Both were dressed in warm duvet coats against the chilly weather. Ellen had a somber look on her face, while Scott, alias Dawn, was smiling brightly. As brief as my observation was, it sufficed to drive the point home: the teen girl had next to nothing to do with my former male cousin and everything to do with the fictional Dawn Summers. As soon as the pair entered the house, Mom hurried to greet them. "Hello there!" she welcomed both visitors as they took off their coats in the foyer. "So good to have you over, guys! How are you doing?" "Oh, we're fine, Gail," Ellen answered and smiled bravely even though it was plain to see she was not being completely frank. "I just thought we'd drop by and chat a little, if that's alright with you." "Of course! We don't see each other too often these days, anyway." "Hi!" Dawn greeted Mom in her turn and hugged her warmly. The teen girl, wearing form-fitting dark blue jeans and a knitted pale blue sweater, with a light-colored top underneath, had eye shadow and some red lipstick on, the same as on Thursday. She had also added a touch of mascara for this occasion. "Hi, Scott!" Mom said. "You're still a girl, I see. Like our Mike." "Yeah!" he replied in a bubbly manner fitting his new persona. "All girl! But if you don't mind, I'd like to be called Dawn." "Okay," Mom said tentatively and smiled again. "Dawn it is." Kate and I had joined the welcoming party in the foyer, and she also received hugs from both Ellen and Dawn. Ellen's gesture was somewhat more matter-of-fact than Dawn's, who squeezed my sister tightly and lovingly and exclaimed, "Oh, Kate! My bestest girl cousin!" "Good to see you, Dawnie," she responded in kind. Ellen and I exchanged simple hellos and smiles, but Dawn had taken it upon herself to hug everyone, and I was up next. She almost drove the air out of my lungs as she threw her arms around me in a fierce embrace. "Buffy! You have no idea how I missed you!" she mumbled against my shoulder. She was so moved that she had to sniff back a tear. "You're my loveliest sister! Don't you ever, ever, ever leave me!" "Easy there, pal," I said and attempted to draw breath and laugh a little simultaneously. "I'm not going anywhere, unless of course you choke me to death." "You'd better not!" she replied to this and kept hugging me for almost another minute. The feminine, flowery scent of her perfume was very noticeable at this distance. "Um, I meant to ask," Ellen began, with a clear tone of apprehension in her voice. "Mike, what, uh... what should we call you?" She was plainly struggling with trying to accept our changing genders and identities, and the whole subject must have been painful to her, as she had effectively lost her only son in what had to be one of the most bizarre ways imaginable (or unimaginable): a skinsuit symbiont had assimilated him. "Just Mike," I answered with a wide smile in an effort to make her feel at least a little better. "I'm still me." "Huh?" Dawn cut in, sounding genuinely surprised. "Folks, her name is Buffy." "No, it's not," I hurried to set the thing straight while keeping the smile plastered on my face. "That was just a role I played at the party." "What do you mean?" Dawn kept on. My hope that the entire show might simply be Scott's typical deadpan comedy showing through was waning fast. "You're my sister! Buffy! What are you playing at here?" "Let's go to the living room and make ourselves comfortable, shall we?" Mom suggested, defusing an awkward situation handily and in the nick of time. The two mothers occupied a pair of armchairs while we, the children, sat down on the couch. I was seated at the right-hand end of the sofa and Kate found her place at the other end, with Dawn between us. I made a quick mental note of how she sat with her legs neatly together, only to realize next that I was sitting in the exact same manner. Dawn flashed another happy smile at me. She was overjoyed to be in the company of her favorite relatives. "Would you like some coffee, Ellen?" Mom asked. "I can..." "I'd love some, but maybe after a little while," my aunt said. "You see, we ate lunch just before we left. Our timetables often tend to slide a bit whenever we have to wait for Don to come home. He's always late." "Yeah. I know what you're talking about. Sounds like my brother alright." They shared a brief, polite laugh. It was now up to Ellen to broach the actual topic and start the conversation, and she eventually did so, with some difficulty and reluctance. "I must say that... I don't know how I should put it, but to be perfectly blunt, the last couple of days have been an emotional turmoil for everybody in our family. For twenty-odd years, me and Don had a son, and all of a sudden, the son turns into our newest daughter. It takes a little getting used to." She laughed again, but it sounded forced. "How do you feel about it, Dawn?" Mom asked. "I feel great!" she replied cheerily. "Never better--except for the tiny little fact that I'm still grounded," she added with a groan and an accusing look at her mother. "Yeah, well, she actually doesn't seem too troubled," Ellen corrected herself. "If only it was as easy for the rest of us." "Are Brenda and Erica dealing with it?" Mom asked her. "Brenda is more or less okay with it," she said and shrugged her shoulders. "Erica hasn't met Dawn yet, so her reaction is a bit of a question mark at present. She's been pretty incredulous of the whole affair in her texts and we've had a hard time trying to convince her this has really happened." "I don't blame her." "You'd think they'd show some more enthusiasm," Dawn herself commented. "It's not every day that you get a brand new sister!" She turned to look at me and added with a radiant smile, "Or two." "I'd stick with 'a sister' in this case," I interjected. "No need for the plural." "Are you...?" Mom prompted. "Hanging in there," Ellen said with a sigh. "Basically, if she's happy, then I'm happy. I guess that's all there is to it in the end." "We've had our share of problems as well," Mom pointed out. "Kate is taking this new situation in stride--she relishes the role of big sister--but Mike and I have our little reservations about it." "That's an understatement, if I ever heard one," I remarked. "So you're not all that glad to be a girl?" Ellen asked me. "Definitely not," I said. "I'm almost excruciatingly ill at ease in this body. It feels totally foreign to me, from head to toe. I'd do anything to be myself again, even if it means putting my health at risk." "Drama queen," Kate muttered under her breath, and Dawn let out a subdued little giggle. "Speaking of that," Ellen went on, "are you positive there's nothing anyone can do to change you back?" "Mandy says so," Kate replied. "I'd be inclined to trust her. She makes these skins, after all, so she would know." "Oh. Does that include... you know, surgical operations? I've read up on them a bit lately, out of curiosity." Dawn fidgeted nervously at her mother's words, and the remnants of her smile swiftly left her face. Apparently, I thought, Ellen was desperate enough to have given at least some consideration to the idea of making Dawn take hormones and then go under the knife. A mere passing mention of the topic made the girl squeamish. "Actually," Kate spoke up, "I asked Mandy about that when she last came here, and she is dead set against surgeries. The new bodies of the guys have some sort of enhanced healing capability, according to her, so they would fight any attempt to modify them with chemicals or operations or whatever. It could get really nasty, from what she told me." "I see," Ellen said, clearly crestfallen. Dawn, in contrast, perked and brightened up noticeably. An option, however theoretical and remote, that amounted to an abject fear for her had been decisively eliminated. "Kate," Mom said and nodded her head, "I was wondering if you..." My sister got the hint instantly. "Dawn," she said to my former male cousin, "why don't you come with me. I've got something to show you." "Sure," Dawn agreed gladly, and the two left the room together, heading upstairs. I raised my eyebrows and looked at Mom and Ellen questioningly, waiting for them to signal me whether or not they wanted me to go as well. Ellen said, "Mike, could you please stay? I... I'd appreciate your insights." "No problem," I responded. The door to Kate's room closed with a quiet thump. Ellen looked around, as though anxious to make sure our privacy was not compromised, and explained in an almost apologetic manner and with a slightly lowered voice, "I know I'm not being very considerate here, but I couldn't talk about some of the things on my mind with Scott--I mean, Dawn present. I'm amazed how fast and easily she's adjusted, and I'm 100 per cent prepared to love her the way she is if she's content with her life, but... I need a little more time to adapt. I'm way too old and set in my ways to deal with my adult son turning into a teen girl at the wave of some magician's wand." "I know exactly how you feel," Mom voiced her support. "We're in this together. You can count on our help." "To tell you the truth, it's Don who I'm worried about the most. He's been sober for two full years now, as I'm sure you know, and it has done a world of good to him and our whole family. He's a completely different man, reliable and patient. But then this... thing came along, totally out of the blue. Scott was extra special to him ever since we learned I was pregnant with a baby boy. It's not that he doesn't love our girls, far from it, but he always wanted a son too. He's really having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that we now have Dawn in Scott's place." Ellen bit her lip and continued after a short pause, "I don't know what's going to happen. I want to believe Don when he said he's through with alcohol for life, but with all this... I just don't know. I'm so afraid he might fall off the wagon." "I can't promise everything will work out fine," Mom said and took Ellen's hand in hers, "but I know my brother. He's incredibly strong at heart. He may need more time than you do, but he'll come around in the end. Dawn is such a precious girl he can't help but learn to love her. What's more, she is Scott in essence anyway, only in a different body." "That's precisely what I've been telling myself for the past week," Ellen said with a rueful, quiet laugh. "I try to believe that I will eventually have Scott back somehow, or at least that Dawn keeps his soul and self intact. I want to think he's still the same inside even though he doesn't look like my boy anymore. But to be absolutely honest with you, I'm beginning to lose my hope. Don't get me wrong, Dawn really is a sweetheart, through and through, but... she's not Scott. There's no denying that. I can't go on fooling myself." "Are you sure?" Mom asked. "To me, there seems to be something familiar about her, something that proves to me she's Scott alright." This was without a doubt a white lie, I thought; Mom had to have realized by this point that Dawn acted and sounded nothing like Scott. "If Scott is still there, he's buried way deep inside of her. When you look at her or talk to her, she's totally like your typical 15-year-old girl. It's a very likely outcome that I have to raise a third daughter, and heaven knows my youngest may be even more boy crazy than the other two!" Ellen punctuated her sentence with another sad chuckle. "From what I've seen, you don't have the same problem." "Mike has the body of a girl who's a little bit more mature," Mom explained. "It could be that his hormones aren't all over the place like Dawn's must be." "That's certainly a possible explanation," I admitted for my part. "I don't see myself as a woman and I definitely don't go around chasing men." I was about put forward my hypothesis that Scott's heavy drinking on the Halloween party night had played a major role in his mental metamorphosis but decided to leave it unsaid. Ellen needed Mom's reassurances and sympathy much more than my smart aleck theorizing. "But you do like men now, don't you?" Ellen inquired. She gave me a smile to let me know I could freely admit that was the case and had nothing to be ashamed of. I was about to deny instead, and strenuously, but stopped just short of opening my mouth. It occurred to me that there was more involved than a simple playful idea of hers. In her heart, she was seeking confirmation that Scott was not the only new girl who had trouble keeping her desires in check. To reject Ellen's suggestion unequivocally, let alone nonchalantly, would have singled Scott out as an exceptionally hopeless case--setting aside Larry alias Leslie, who had allowed himself to become Faith the Vampire Slayer entirely willingly. "Uh, that's... That's complicated," I stammered and laughed nervously. "I'm not yet sure where I stand when it comes to sexual attraction. It's too soon to tell. Like I said, I haven't had any major urges to do anything on that front." "I trust you'll keep me posted and warn me in advance before you start bringing guys here," Mom said, and we all shared a little chuckle. "I don't necessarily disapprove of it, as long as you have at least some kind of standards." "Don't worry. That's still far off in the future, if I ever even get there," I dismissed her half-serious concern. "I'd like nothing better than to be back in my proper form and live as a man again. Oh, and no offense to the fairer sex intended, naturally." "That category sort of includes you, I'd venture," Mom said with a small grin. "Anyway, your chivalrous remark is duly noted and appreciated." "Buffy!" Kate's voice called out from the upstairs. "Buffy! Come here!" "What for?" I yelled back. "Girl talk! Come on, get your butt in my room now!" "Excuse me," I said to the two women, not fully able to cover up my slight dismay. "I'm evidently wanted there." "Okay," Mom responded, "but be sure to join us for coffee and cookies. We'll be having some pretty soon. Ask Kate and Dawn to come as well." "Understood." The door to Kate's room was half open, so I didn't bother to knock and simply walked in. Dawn was lying on her side on Kate's bed, reading a magazine with my sister, who was sitting near her. As I entered, they were busily engaged in what sounded to me like a typically feminine discussion about clothes. "Oh, there you are," Kate said to me and added, patting down on the bed beside her, "Come and sit here. Dawn and I would like your input." "On what?" "All kinds of things. Time to put your feminine intuition to use." "So, like I was saying," Dawn continued, "I want to try out something new, you know, expand my range. I can't be stuck as just the preppy jeans-and-sweaters wearing girl next door until I'm out of high school. There's nothing wrong with being cute and wholesome and down to earth, but what I mean is I'd like for the guys to think of me as sexy too." "Exactly!" Kate said in support. "Every woman has the right to feel wanted, and you're no different from the rest of us." "What about this?" Dawn asked and turned the magazine around to show a picture to Kate. It was of a young woman apparently dressed for a night out clubbing, wearing a skimpy black skirt, a revealing top and knee- high boots with spiked heels. "Now that would knock them out cold!" "I don't doubt it," Kate laughed, "but I'd wait for a couple of years before I put on something like that if I were you." "Why? Don't you think I'm mature enough to pull that stuff off?" "It's not what I mean, Dawnie. My point is you shouldn't confuse sexy with slutty. You can go for a sultry style and make it work, but if you overdo it, you end up being tacky. It's all about the balance, how far you can go without going too far." "But guys like that, don't they?" "The kind of guys you tend to get by dressing like a slut are also the kind you're better off without. Fact of the matter is, they're just as shallow as some girls when they're your age. They take one look at you and they categorize you based on your clothes and how you act in general. Once you get classified as nothing but an easy piece of tail, that kind of rep stays with you, no matter how hard you try to shake it. Isn't that right, Buffy?" "I suppose," I commented. I did little to hide my lack of interest in the topic, and teen girls' dress code was largely outside my field of expertise anyway. "I guess you're right," Dawn said, sounding a little disappointed. "Okay, so... what do you think about this one?" She had flipped the page and was now showing Kate another picture, again of a photogenic woman in her twenties. Her outfit was slightly more toned down; instead of a skirt, this girl had leather pants on, but the neckline of her long-sleeved red top was so deep it did not leave all that much to imagination. "It's still a tiny bit on the trashy side, if you ask me," Kate remarked. "Would you wear something like that, Buffy?" "No," I said curtly. "I bet it wouldn't look trashy on you," Dawn told me. "Or you, Kate. I suppose I have no choice but to face the fact that I'm just a schoolgirl." "You're much more than that!" Kate encouraged her. "You're a fabulous young woman who's about to come into her own. You've got a magnetic personality and a killer body for a person your age. For one thing, I'd do anything to get legs like yours. They go on forever. And your chest is pretty impressive as well, especially seeing as you're still likely to develop a bit more. All you need is a little confidence and experience." "You really think so?" Dawn was squirming again, but this time it was because of sheer joy. Her smile lit up the whole room. "Sure! And Buffy does too, right?" My sister aimed a prompting look at me. "Yeah, right," I said, once more without much enthusiasm. "Let her have a look at the magazine," Kate told Dawn and gestured at me. "Maybe there's something she could recommend for you." "No, I really don't know the first thing about young ladies' fashion," I said and shook my head as Dawn offered the publication to me. "Besides, please don't call me Buffy." "What should we call you then?" Dawn asked with a small laugh. She didn't bother to wait for my answer before she continued, "Kate, I was thinking I could try different hairstyles as well." "That's an interesting idea," she said, "but promise me you won't cut it short! It's fabulous the way it is. You could be in a shampoo commercial." "Oh, thanks!" Dawn gushed and added a giggle. "No, I'm not cutting it, but I could dye it. Would a reddish color fit me? That would get people's attention. You have to stand out when guys are in sight!" "You already stand out with your looks," Kate said and was rewarded with another happy smile. "You could probably pull that off, as long as the color is not too bright and overwhelming. Buffy? Any comments?" "You can dye it blue and cut it in a mohawk for all I care," I blurted out and stood up. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm getting an estrogen poisoning here. You girls have fun!" To my surprise, they both burst out laughing. "Did you hear that?" Dawn giggled. "'You girls!'" "You're one of us now, missy, so it's 'us girls!'" Kate declared. "Put your behind back down and contribute!" Whatever there was still left of my mood improvement since the morning was rapidly fading away as I watched the girls (and they both really were girls for all intents and purposes) chat and giggle on Kate's bed. It was becoming obvious to me that my sadness and pain over the loss of Scott easily outweighed the bitterness I felt due to my own fate. Although I was most likely trapped in the Buffy Summers form for life, I was nonetheless myself, with my thoughts, emotions, memories, abilities, likes and dislikes virtually intact. Scott, in contrast, existed no more. "We really should do something together, me and Buffy," Dawn said. "What I had in mind was we could go to Chesterton and spend a day at the mall. I'd like to take my time there and not have Mom or somebody else constantly tell me I need to hurry up. Buffy, you could drive us both!" "It sucks that we live in the middle of nowhere," Kate voiced her opinion. "Aside from the mall, there's almost nothing around here in the way of entertainment, shopping and social interaction. What I think you guys should do is hit the big city. You could even stay overnight at a hotel if you'd like." "That would be so cool!" Dawn exclaimed excitedly. "We'd go to a beauty salon, get ourselves new clothes, check out the nightlife..." "You can't possibly get into a nightclub," I pointed out, "so it might be a---" "Mandy gave me a great idea, by the way," Kate interrupted me. "A friend of hers is a professional photographer; an artistic guy, and certifiably gay to boot, who has worked with actual supermodels. He has his own studio in the city and he could arrange for you two to have a makeover and then a real modeling photo session. Just imagine! You'd have pictures to prove incontrovertibly how attractive you are now!" "Yeah! We absolutely, positively, definitely need to do that!" Dawn could barely contain her delight and eagerness. "Do you have his number, Kate? Or an e-mail address? Buffy can contact him right away!" "Seriously, don't call me Buffy!" I said, more emphatically than last time. Dawn paused and gave me a genuinely puzzled and surprised look. Kate, for her part, pursed her lips into a tight, subdued smile and had a slightly scoffing glint in her eye. This was her "say-what-you-will- but-I'm-right-anyway" face, and I was more than familiar with it. "Don't mind that, Dawnie," she said after a silence of a couple of seconds. "A certain sour puss is only practicing for her first PMS." This drew a soft giggle out of her. I simply sighed, hoping the whole girl talk session would be over as soon as possible. "Maybe she should be more like me," Dawn said and crawled forward. She then sat up close to me. "We're really alike in many ways, though. There's this fabulous aura around us that we share, that something. Must be the famous Summers blood. We're the sisters who slay!" "For Christ's sake!" I snapped and rose to my feet. "Can't we just drop it already? In case you weren't aware, Buffy Summers is a fictional character. She doesn't exist. Dawn Summers doesn't either. They're imaginary people played by actors who were paid to say lines someone else wrote for them! They're not real human beings. Neither is Willow, nor Cordelia, nor Faith, nor Angel, nor Spike, nor whoever. I'm not Buffy, and you're not Dawn!" "Calm down," Kate exhorted. "Take it easy!" "You're Scott Oliver Anderson, my cousin," I went on, ignoring my actual sister and addressing the new girl, who had also stood up and was staring me in the eyes, upset and shocked. "You're a man. I'm sick and tired of having to say 'she' and 'her' when I'm speaking about you, and I hate to hear those words when you refer to me. Hell, we're nothing but two guys in drag! We have no business going to a beauty salon or a photo shoot. We don't do that. We do guy things!" "Buffy," she said, her voice quiet and trembling slightly, but with an air of determination, "I'm happy now. I've never, ever been happier in my whole life. And regardless of what you say or think, I am Dawn, I am all woman, and I am all real!" "Look, Scott," I continued in a more soothing and sympathetic tone as I was again beginning to be able to control my emotions which had momentarily boiled over, "your skinsuit must have done something strange to you. You're not yourself. It has shorted out your normal personality and made you artificially positive all the time. It has brainwashed you into believing---" "Brainwashed? Is that what you say?" she retorted, still in a calm but dramatic voice. A tiny teardrop was running down her cheek. "All that matters to me is that I'm doing fine the way I am. I don't care what caused it, and I wouldn't change back for anything. I'd rather die. If this is what being brainwashed is like, then maybe you should be brainwashed too, Buffy." The situation was mere seconds away from the breaking point, and the pangs of remorse suddenly hit me with their full force. I had not intended to hurt Dawn, but she was plainly on the verge of weeping inconsolably. "Tell you what," Kate jumped in, getting up on her feet as well. "Let's have a sleepover here in our house. We'll invite everybody and have a girls' night, just the three of us together with Cordy and Willow. We can watch a movie, order some pizza and gossip all night long." "I'd love that," Dawn said, and a smile, albeit shaky at first, returned to her face. The tension in the room was suddenly almost gone. "A sleepover?" I asked incredulously. "Don't you think we're a little too old---" However, my real sister rapidly silenced me with a death stare. The girls shared a hug, and then Dawn moved onto me, squeezing me even harder than she had upon her arrival some half an hour ago. "Buffy, I love you," she said to me in a quiet, small voice. "You've got some pretty crazy thoughts in your head at times and you don't mince your words, but I love you." "I love you too, and I'm sorry," I replied sincerely but nevertheless with a slight touch of hesitation. There was an eminently surreal quality to all this, unsettling and curiously amusing at the same time. "Yoohoo! Guys!" Mom called from downstairs. "Coffee's ready!" "I'll go on ahead," Dawn notified us. "You guys coming too?" "Sure," Kate replied. "Just a sec. We'll be right behind." "Okay," Dawn said and left. In a few moments, we could hear her running down the stairs. When Kate estimated Dawn was safely out of earshot from us, she turned to face me. Her expression was so angry I took the opportunity to brace myself mentally for a blowup of massive proportions. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" she began, struggling not to give in to the temptation to shout at the top of her lungs. "What was that all about?" "I told you," I said, pretending to be completely unfazed. "I don't like people calling me Buffy because that's not my name." "Don't you dare play dumb with me," she hissed. "You've been a total bitch to Dawn ever since she set foot in the house! That's going to stop, as in right now." "You're being unfair," I defended myself. "This hasn't been a walk in the park for me either. I wake up in this cursed body again, I'm forced to watch my cousin and best friend devolve into a ditz, I have to play along with your childish---" "Shut up!" she snarled. "You only think about yourself, as usual. For your information, Buffy,"--she strongly emphasized the name for effect- -"there are other people involved. For once, you could consider Dawn's feelings, or mine." "I---" "I'm not finished. In case you haven't noticed, I'm putting a heck of a lot of effort into trying to ease everybody's transition to their new lives. That's all I can do for you now. That's all anyone can do. You could at least thank me every once in a while!" "I do value your support, Kate, but that doesn't change the fact that I hate this body." "Get over it! There's nothing in this world, absolutely nothing, that could bring your original shape back. No matter how much you moan and cry and throw hissy fits, your precious boy parts are gone for good. You can't be so shallow and sexist as to think that your whole identity depends on your dick and balls!" "So, a person's sex is irrelevant to their identity? Is that what you honestly believe?" "What I honestly believe is you derive some morbid form of pleasure from that woe-is-me routine of yours. You wallow in self-pity because you enjoy it and expect everyone else to do likewise." "What is it that you want from me, anyway? Do you want me to---" "For starters, make up to Dawn for all the stupid things you said to her. If you positively want to spend the rest of your life in misery, then fine, be my guest, regardless of how moronic that is; but you have absolutely no right to take your bitterness out on her! That's plain evil. Can't you see what a sweet and sensitive girl she is? She doesn't deserve any shit from you or anyone else. And what's more, she adores you and worships the ground beneath your feet. She comes to you hoping you'll love her back as her sister, and you treat her like dirt! She's hurting terribly every time you're being mean to her." "I'm not her sister." "You are, as far as she's concerned. That's what counts." "Even if I sometimes come across as mean, I certainly don't do it on purpose," I said in a consciously calmer manner, to prevent the situation from escalating. "I just have such a hard time dealing with Scott's essence being taken away and replaced by that synthetic, make- believe girl. Just look at him! He's drooling over boys and talking about clothes and makeup with you! That person used to be my male cousin. It's eating me alive. My only meager consolation is that I didn't end up like him, or Larry." "Dawn was entirely right when she said you should be more like her," Kate commented pointedly. "She's much better adjusted and not fighting something that can't be fought. You can't argue against that. And while we're on that topic, I have a hunch Leslie is also happier with her life than you are with yours." "'Happy' doesn't equal 'sane' or 'stable'. I'm not going to start sucking face with random teen boys I've barely met and call it adjusting. Of course, Larry's version assuredly involves sucking something else as well, but then again, I suppose he's just that much more adjusted." "Okay, so you suppress your new sexuality at any cost, pat yourself on the back whenever it seems to work, implode when it doesn't work, and then you have the nerve to look down on your friends who have accepted that they're women now and are learning to live with it. Yeah, sure sounds like a healthy coping mechanism to me. Oh, wait! It's not, and I'm appalled, actually." "That's middle school level psychobabble." "Call it what you want, I'm still right." "You should know I don't look down on Scott, or Dawn, for that matter. I'll admit Larry is something else entirely, but that's simply because the little asshole is responsible for this whole tragedy. If I ever see him again, I've got a few additional reasons to kill him." "If you did that," Kate retorted, "you'd be a murderer and still have to stay a woman for the rest of your life. Anyhow, don't you remember what Mandy said? Potion or no potion, it was probably already too late for you guys to take the skins off on Halloween night. Even if we had had the bottle, you'd very likely be stuck just the same." "It's the intention I'm judging her by. She wanted to do us harm." "Let it go, Buffy--or Cindy, or Mike, if you prefer. It's been and gone. You've got enough issues without compulsive fantasizing about vengeance and murder. Don't waste your energy on useless hate. You're a better person than that." Her stern look gradually softened into a compassionate but slightly sad smile. "We have our work cut out for us," she said and gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, "but we're not giving up. It'll be alright, some day. I promise." (To be continued...)