Date: Tue, 4 Jan 2000 22:05:24 -0800 (PST)
From: The Professor
Subject: Kid Sister

Kid Sister
By The Professor

Thursday, 24 October, 1996

     I've looked at this little book with the pretty pink and yellow
flowers on the cover every day since it happened. At first, I just ignored
it. It was just one more prop in a play I didn't want to act in. I left it
on the desk, dismissing it as something only girls would be interested
in. I mean, I've never known a guy to keep a diary. I certainly wasn't
going to keep one. Not me. I was a guy, no matter the evidence to the
contrary.
     But I've noticed that with each passing day, I seem to be losing
little pieces of myself.  When the change happened, I was angry and
confused. Now, I'm frightened. I had consoled myself with the fact that
deep inside, I would always be Daniel Franklin Korby, no matter what the
outside looked like. Now I'm not so sure. That's why I've decided to bite
the bullet and start keeping a diary. I want to remember who I really am -
not what I appear to be.
     I'm going to keep it my own way, though. If I find myself starting out
"Dear Diary" on an entry, I'm going to throw myself off a cliff. I don't
even really plan to keep this on a daily basis. I'll just make an entry
when there's something I need to say. My greatest fear is that the person I
will be in two or three years will pick up this book and wonder why I would
ever write this. That person would wonder who this person was. Well, this
person is me, and as I fight back the urge to get all emotional and just
sit here and cry, I'd better start committing my story to paper.
     Maybe I should start with a little personal history. That seems in
order if I really want to remember the person I used to be. I know I'll
probably never completely forget, but I might forget my hopes and dreams if
I don't write them down. I don't want to forget them, no matter what.
     I was born the third son of Grant and Cindy Korby. Dad had been a
professional football player, most recently with the San Diego
Chargers. His career in football had come to an end about the time I was
born. He and my mother preferred San Diego to their native Midwest, so they
elected to stay in Southern California. When I was born, Dad had just
started working as a stockbroker in a suburban office north of San
Diego. It was only a thirty-mile commute from our home in Rio del Diablo.
     "Rio del Diablo," he would chuckle as I was growing up. "You can tell
the Spanish weren't real estate developers. Who in their right mind would
call this place 'River of the Devil'?"
     They had named it with good reason according to the local history I
had studied back in middle school. The river that cut its way through the
valley in which the town was built was an unpredictable one, providing
abundant water for crops one year, running practically dry the next, and
swelling with an incredible fury to spread across the desert not far east
of town and wipe out half the farms in the valley the next year. It wasn't
until the Corp of Engineers dammed it up after World War II that the valley
really came into its own.
     By the time my parents had moved there back in the late seventies, the
town was pretty well built out, already bordering on other small towns that
had grown through the years in the wake of San Diego's explosive growth. It
was a nice town, though, filled with middle class families. There were no
slums and little crime. In short, it was the sort of town everyone sought.
It was safe, fairly new, affluent, and comfortable.
     My brother Jake was born two years after me, and my parents finally
resigned themselves to the fact that they would never have a girl in the
family. So with four boys, they concentrated on raising a football team. As
I've already mentioned, Dad was a professional football player, playing
quarterback at the University of Kansas and shifting to strong safety in
the pros. After a slow start with Chicago, he was traded to San Diego where
he really came into his own, going to the Pro Bowl three times.
     Mom was no slouch either. She had been a varsity athlete in her own
right, participating in women's track at KU where she held a couple of
records that had never been broken. And no, she didn't have the rawboned
look of many women athletes; she was an attractive blonde who looked
outstanding in a skirt and heels.
     I don't mention this without a purpose. I just want to note that I
came from good stock.  My oldest brother, Grant, Jr., is now in his rookie
year with the Denver Broncos as a tailback and my next brother, Allen, is a
starting safety at UCLA in only his sophomore year. My younger brother,
Jake, is coming on strong at wide receiver, and he'll probably replace me -
well, would have replaced me when I graduated.
     Yes, I was a good football player, but I wasn't a dumb jock no matter
what some people would have thought. I was a wide receiver, with the big
strong hands and 6'3" height which, when coupled with my substantial speed,
meant I was an outstanding college prospect. My grades were good enough to
get me into Stanford if I wanted to, but I had a strong desire to play for
my oldest brother's alma mater, San Diego State. While I was intelligent, I
longed to play pro football, too, and the Aztecs had a wide open passing
game that would serve me well with the pro scouts.
     Did I mention I was a pretty good-looking guy, too? No? Well, I
was. Okay, so a lot of the jocks who aren't dumb are egotistical. I suppose
I was guilty of a little of that. But I had the reputation of being a
pretty decent guy. I knew of guys not unlike myself who used their looks
and their physiques to intimidate everyone. They'd bully the guys who
weren't into sports and pop the cherry of every unsuspecting girl they
could find. Not me, though. I had a number of friends who weren't jocks. It
came from the fact that my grades were as good as theirs. I think some
jocks envy the brighter guys, but not me. I was right up there with them.
     As for popping cherries, it was mine that got popped. My junior year,
I ended up on a date with... well, I suppose I shouldn't write her name
down. She's married now. Anyhow, she was a year older than me, and a bunch
of us ended up out on a beach at night with some wine.  Normally, I didn't
drink. The coach had a fit with any guy on the team caught drinking. But it
was late spring and all sports were over for the year. I just had a couple
of drinks, but it loosened me up. The girl I was with that night
practically raped me. I have to admit I didn't mind.
     The only other time I had a sexual experience was pretty much the same
as the first time.  Only that was at the beginning of this school year with
Vickie Peters. It was no big deal, though.  Vickie asked me out, as she had
most of the team. We did it in the back seat of Dad's Buick. It was also
where I experienced my first - and as it turned out - my only blow job.
     So there I was, a senior in high school. I was a starting wide
receiver with great college prospects, a good grade point average, good
looks, girls at my feet, and an upper middle class lifestyle. In short, I
was on top of the world. I never dreamed how fast everything could fall
apart.
     It all started last Saturday night. The Rio Red Devils had crushed our
homecoming opponent on Friday night. I had caught four passes for
seventy-five yards, including the first touchdown of the game - all in
front of half a dozen college scouts. My numbers would have been better,
but the coach let the second and third teams have all the fun in the second
half. My younger brother caught the last touchdown pass of the game. When
it was over, we had trounced our opponent 52-10. We were all feeling good.
     I had a date with Allison Mathews. She was a sweet little redhead I
had known since starting high school, but we had never dated before. I was
never one of those guys looking for romance in high school. I dated a
number of girls, but none of them very long. I think it was because as a
young boy, I had known several girls who had been good friends, so I didn't
have the urge to find my one true love in high school. I knew that would
come in its own time.
     Allison and I had dated casually off and on for the past year. We
could tell early on that there was no spark between the two of us. We were
just friends. In fact, there was only one girl in the school who was a
closer friend, and that was Jennifer Dawson. Jenny and I were so close we
didn't even bother to call our time together dates.
     Anyhow, Allison and I would date when she was between boys. There were
very few guys in our class who wouldn't have gladly surrendered their right
nut for the privilege of being the very first guy to get in her pants. Fat
chance, though. Allison was a very religious girl. She was "saving
herself." I admired that in her, and Allison knew that. That was why we
could date every now and then. She knew I respected her decision and there
would be no funny business.
     The party was going great. We even had a live band that sounded for
all the world like Hootie and the Blowfish. Everybody was having a good
time. I was drinking strictly soft drinks and punch. That is to say, I
wasn't slipping outside with any of the guys for a quick jolt of anything
with alcohol in it. Coach Hendricks would kill any player caught drinking
during the football season, and I wasn't ready to die. I mention this just
because I wasn't drunk or high or anything else that night. That's how I
know I couldn't have done what they said I did.
     Allison and I had slipped outside for a few minutes. No, it wasn't to
make out; we really had gotten a little hot, and the music was too loud to
talk. The party was being held at a local country club, so the grounds were
well kept and beautiful in the moonlight. As we walked, we talked about
classes and our classmates. Allison was telling me all about a trip she was
going to be taking with her parents to Mexico over Thanksgiving when it
happened. Right in the middle of the conversation, I blacked out.
     I had never been out cold before. Even when I had gotten hit in the
last game of the previous season, colliding head on with an opposing
safety, I had managed to stay alert. Now, there I was, walking along with
Allison when the lights suddenly went out - way out.
     The next thing I recalled was a girl screaming. The lights came back
on slowly as if the senses were being turned back on one at a time. Even
before I could see, I could feel rough hands on my arms, pulling me first
backwards and then up to my feet. The screams had changed to cries of fear
and distress, and behind me I could hear rough voices yelling, "Get off
her!" and "What the hell are you doing?"
     Then, I could see again, and I almost wished I couldn't for what I saw
was Allison on the grass behind some shrubbery. There was a long scratch on
her cheek, probably from one of the branches of the shrubs, and her dress
was torn, literally ripped away, and her bra pulled away so that one full
breast was exposed. She was looking up at me with pure horror in her
tear-filled eyes.
     "What?" was all I could manage to say as I was turned to face Coach
Hendricks. It had been he who had pulled me up.
     "Korby, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
     I had awakened into a nightmare. How could I answer the question when
I had absolutely no idea what I had been doing? "I..." I started, but
couldn't think of anything to say.
     "And stick your dick back in your pants, boy!" the Coach growled in a
low whisper.  "Have you lost your mind?"
     Maybe I had, I managed to think through the haze. I looked down at my
exposed penis and as my face flushed at the sight of several of my
classmates - male and female - who had gathered at the sounds of the
screams, I managed to stuff it back inside my pants. It wasn't all that
easy since it was partially erect. The look of disgust from my classmates
will be with me forever.
     Two other men, one of them a friend of my father's, rushed up. "I
called the police," my father's friend told the Coach, indicating his cell
phone. "They're on their way."
     Coach Hendricks looked me squarely in the eye. "This is what comes of
drinking," he told me. I started to tell him I hadn't been drinking, but I
could taste something in my mouth. Although I never liked it, I could tell
it was whiskey of some type. I remained quiet as the Coach went on.
"You're off the team, Korby. You'll be lucky if you don't do jail time. If
I had my way, I'd lock you up and throw away the key. God damned pervert."
     I knew he meant it. The Coach had two daughters of his own, not much
younger than Allison. He appeared ready to say more to me, but two police
officers appeared suddenly. With little preamble, one of them moved me
away, one arm held behind my back. I was actually happy to be led away. I
was embarrassed to be seen like this by so many of my friends. All of them,
even Jennifer Dawson, were looking down or away so they wouldn't have to
look at me.
     The next two hours were a blur. I was still a little out of it. I had
never taken drugs in my life, but I imagined this must be what it was like
to come off a high. I was confused and inarticulate, barely able to stand
as they took away my tie, belt, and the contents of my pockets. I was just
staring into space when they took my fingerprints and my picture. Then they
roughly shoved me into a cell. At least I had the cell all to myself. I
don't think I could have faced anyone at that moment, even another
prisoner. I didn't know what to do, so I did something I hadn't done since
I was a small boy - I lay back on the cot and began to cry.
     "Dan!"
     It was my father's voice, bringing me out of a troubled sleep. It had
all been a dream! It was just a terrible nightmare, I told myself. But then
I opened my eyes, and the harsh jail light flooded back in. My father was
standing over me.
     "Are you all right?" he asked. There was concern in his voice, and I
could see the pain in his face. I'd always been a son to be proud of, but
now, I was in jail, apparently being held for an attempted rape. I didn't
know what to say to him. How could I tell him what had really happened?
How could I expect him to believe me?
     "I'm okay, I guess."
     "Come on," he said, still standing over me without touching me. "I've
arranged for bail for you. Let's get you home."
     The police sullenly gave me my belongings and made me sign for them. I
could see the distaste in their eyes. I was a sex criminal, and many of
them had daughters I was sure. I wanted to die right then and there.
     What had I done? I wondered as my father silently drove me home. I
didn't remember a thing. Had someone slipped something into my drinks? And
why couldn't I remember any of it? It was as if I had suddenly been jerked
out of my life and stuffed into this one. How could I possibly defend
myself? What must Allison - what must everyone - think of me? My life was
ruined in an evening. Nothing would ever be right again.
     "Your mother is sleeping," Dad said as he guided the car into the
garage. "The Doctor gave her something to help her sleep. She's... very
upset, Dan."
     I closed my eyes. I tried not to imagine what it must have been like
for her when she found out about me. My mother loved all of her boys, but
in a way, I was her favorite. I don't know why, but I was the one she
seemed to confide in. I was the one whose goals had matched hers. I wanted
to teach and coach at the high school level when I got out of school and
finished a football career, and her goal had been to teach as well.  Now
that goal would be shattered for me.  A sex criminal as a teacher or a
coach? No way.
     "Get some sleep," my father told me tonelessly. "We'll talk about this
in the morning."
     Yeah, in the morning, I thought. Then we could start to plan my court
defense. Then we could start to figure out what needed to be done with
me. Even if by some miracle I managed to get off on sexual assault charges,
my life was ruined. I felt like a piece of glass that had been
shattered. No matter how many shards of the glass could be found and glued
back together, the glass would never be whole - or useful - again.
     I stumbled into my room, pulling off my jacket and shirt as I went. I
didn't even bother to turn on the light, so I didn't see Jake sitting in
the corner.
     "What happened?" he asked softly. Jake and I were the only two boys
left at home now that Allen had gone away to college. As a result, we had
become quite close.
     "You wouldn't believe me," I said with a sigh.
     "Try me."
     "Okay, why not?" I told him what I remembered. I told him about how
great everything was going at the party and how Allison and I had left just
to take a walk. I told him about waking up without any idea of what had
happened.
     Jake whistled. "I don't know, Dan. I don't think anybody will buy that
story."
     "Even you?" I asked softly.
     "I want to believe you," Jake said with sympathy. "I really do. But
think about how it sounds. What could make you do this and not remember any
of it?""
     A perverse hope swelled inside me. "Maybe it's a tumor, Jake," I
theorized. "I might have a brain tumor. It might have made me do this and
then forget about it."
     "You sound as if you hope it is," he observed.
     "Maybe I do," I admitted as I fell into bed. "It's about the only
thing that might explain this."
     "Well, I hope it's not," he told me as he rose to leave. He put his
hand on my shoulder. "I'd hate to lose you."
     It was at least a small comforting thought, and it allowed me to drift
off to sleep.
     I awoke the next morning hoping that the previous night had only been
a bad dream, but I knew deep down that that wasn't the case. The horror I
had felt upon seeing Allison screaming at me, the antiseptic smell of the
jail cell, and the dour look from my father all were too clear in my mind
for it to have been a dream. While I felt embarrassed, I did not feel as if
I had done anything wrong. Attacking Allison had not been a conscious
decision; it just happened. I mean, even if I had been drinking booze and
attacked her, I remembered none of it. One moment, we were walking and
talking and the next moment, my life had been ruined.
     No one else was up yet, so I managed to get in a shower and get
dressed without my family looking at me as if I were a condemned
prisoner. Come to think of it, that might be what I was. I was only out on
bail, and I knew enough about the legal system to realize that only meant I
was free until tried and - in all likelihood - convicted of sexual
assault. What was the phrase? Oh yes: penetration no matter how slight. I
just hoped and prayed Coach Hendricks had stopped me before... before I had
penetrated Allison.
     I went out in the yard to pick up the morning paper, cringing as I
realized I might even be the subject of a story. At least I wasn't eighteen
yet. That meant they wouldn't print my name. A fat lot of good that would
do me, though. Everyone in town would know about it by sundown.
     I picked up the paper just as Jennifer was running by, her long brown
hair tied in a ponytail and swinging as she ran. As I said, of all the
girls I knew, she was my closest friend. She only lived a couple of blocks
away and frequently ran past the house. I had even run with her a few
times. As bravely as I could, I called out, "Good morning, Jen."
     She had been ignoring me I realized, but as I spoke, she stopped
abruptly in front of me, her blue eyes drilling into me. "How can you be so
calm after what you did?" she muttered in amazement. "How can you even
speak to me?"
     I was taken aback. I hadn't expected that from Jennifer. Oh, I had
expected her to be upset, but our friendship went back to when we were both
in first grade. She had been there for me when my grandfather died, and I
had stood by her four years ago when her sister, Lynn, had died in a car
accident. I thought of her almost as family, and I guess I had expected her
to react like members of my family had.
     "I... I'm sorry, Jen," I apologized.
     "And don't call me Jen!" she snapped. "It's Jenny or Jennifer."
     "But I've always called you Jen," I pointed out. I didn't add that I
had always been the only one who did. "You never minded before."
     "You never did what you did last night before," she replied.
     "Look, I'd like to explain about that," I began. I was about to go
into my story, but she stopped me with a motion of her hand.
     "Don't go any further," she ordered. "I'll just get more angry with
you. You know, Dan, I thought you were special. I thought you were
different. But no, you're just like the Swensons."
     Who were the Swensons? I wondered. Before I could ask that, she was
gone, running down the street without another word.
     "Jen... Jenny," I called after her.
     "You'll get yours, Korby," she called out over her shoulder. "You can
depend on that!"
     I don't think I had ever felt lower. If Jen - Jenny - felt that way
about me, what must everyone else think? I was a pariah. No one would
believe me. Most, like Jenny, wouldn't even listen to what I had to say.
     The rest of the morning didn't go any better. My father continued his
stony looks, gruffly responding to me when necessary. Mother still couldn't
bring herself to talk to me about it. It was all she could do to keep from
crying every time I looked at her. Maybe guys who did the things I was
accused of willingly could live with themselves, but I was having a lot of
trouble. I didn't even remember what I had done, and I certainly hadn't
done it willingly.
     Thank god for Jake, though. He got me through the morning. He even
took me outside so we could throw the football around for a little while. I
was go grateful to him that I did my best to hide the fact that every pass
from him I caught was a reminder that on top of everything else, I had been
thrown off the team. Hell, I realized, I had probably been thrown out of
school, too.
     I considered myself one of the good guys. Sure, I drank a little when
I wasn't playing sports, and I had partied a bit. But I had kept myself
clean - no drugs, no criminal behavior. The worst thing I had ever done
apart from a little trip last summer to TJ to see the sex shows was that
little party some of the guys and I had held up the canyon along the river
before school started. Even at that, we had just sat around at one of the
old line shacks left over from ranching days and drank a few beers. I had a
little headache the next day and swore off beer until after the school
year.
     Now here I was, one of the bad guys.
     Imagine my surprise when I got a call from Jenny. Jake had told me who
was on the phone. I was a little relieved. Every time the phone had rung,
it had been more bad news. As I expected, the school called to notify me I
had been suspended until further notice. My father's attorney had called
with the "good news." The District Attorney was only filing lewd and
indecent exposure charges and some sort of sexual assault short of rape
charge. With luck, I'd only get a short sentence and a lot of probation
time. Of course, my life would be ruined, but so what?
     "Hello," I said hesitantly. I half expected Jenny to just give me hell
over the phone.
     Her voice was terse but steady. "I need to see you."
     "Why?" After all, she had made it clear to me only a few hours before
that she never wanted to see me again.
     "Let's just say I can help you with your problems."
     I admit I was a little hesitant. Jenny had made it clear earlier that
she thought I was pond scum. Why was she suddenly willing to help me? I
supposed she remembered that we had once been the best of friends. And I
certainly needed all the help I could get.
     I looked at my watch. It was a little after two. "Dad has grounded
me," I told her, "but I might be able to get away with a short walk. Can
you meet me in front of the Samuelson's house?" That was a couple of blocks
away and out of sight from my house. I didn't want Dad to see me with
Jenny. If he saw me with a girl, he would probably freak out, given what
had apparently happened the last time I was with a girl.
     "Okay. Be there in fifteen minutes." She then hung up.
     What did Jenny have in mind? How could she help me with my problems?
All I really wanted from one of my oldest friends was for her to listen to
my side of the story. I mean, there was no doubt I did what I did, but I
didn't remember any of it. How could I make her believe me?
     Slipping out of the house wasn't a problem. Mother was resting
again. She seemed on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Dad and Jake were
watching a game. Jake had invited me to watch with them, but I couldn't
stand the thought of watching a football game knowing my own future in
football was nil.
     I called to my dad that I was going to take a short walk. Apparently
when I called out to him, KU was on the five yard line with a third down,
so his interest was elsewhere. That was fine with me.
     I had expected Jenny to come running up to me, but instead, I
recognized her behind the wheel of her mother's little BMW Z-3. The top was
down and her long brown hair whipped loosely in the breeze. She pulled to a
stop and ordered, "Get in."
     I quickly got in next to her. Without a word, she pulled away from the
curb. Then she said, "I got a Coke for you." She motioned to an open can in
the cup holder next to me.
     "Thanks," I said, taking a sip. I didn't say anything. I was waiting
for Jenny to talk to me.  This was her game. She'd have to set the rules.
     But she said nothing as she drove, heading over to the main drag, then
turning east.
     "Jenny, something happened to me last night," I finally began, unable
to stand the silence.
     "Sure," she growled. "You just saw Allison and couldn't help
yourself."
     I sighed, taking another drink. "You don't have to be sarcastic about
it. Look, Jen - Jenny - I wasn't myself when I did that. I don't even
remember doing it. One minute, Allison and I were talking and the next
minute Coach Hendricks was pulling me away from her. I honestly don't
remember anything in between. You know me, Jenny. You've known me most of
your life. If I was that kind of an... an animal, wouldn't you have figured
it out by now."
     She seemed to be quietly considering that as she drove past the edge
of town out into the farmland that spread out from the river. "Maybe you
had too much to drink," she suggested. Was it my imagination or had her
voice softened just a little?
     "I never drink during football season," I reminded her. "Unless
somebody slipped something in the punch last night, I haven't had anything
to drink in a couple of months. Jenny, you have to believe me. You have to
help me."
     She looked at me, and her glare softened a little when she saw the
tears in my eyes. She even slowed the car a little, as if she was debating
about continuing.
     "I... I..." I tried to speak, but I seemed to be losing my ability to
control my voice. Oh no!  I thought. Was I starting to black out again? Was
the mindless animal who had attacked Allison about to rise up again and
attack Jenny? I fought for control. No, this wasn't the same sensation I
had felt the night before, but I seemed to be drifting off to sleep.
     "Dan, the decision has already been made," she said to me as I began
to drift off. "I'll do what I can for you, though. I just hope you're
telling me the truth."
     It was the last thing I heard.
     No, this wasn't like the last night with Allison at all. The night
before, I had blacked out, and the time when I had committed my crimes were
completely lost to me. But from the time I passed out in Jenny's car until
I awakened, I had vague perceptions of what was going on. I felt the brakes
of the car grip and heard the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. I could
smell the dusty air and feel the sun against my face. I was pulled roughly
from the car, and I could hear voices - familiar voices as at least four
people, one for each limb, carried me from the car. All of the voices were
female, and I could even remember musing that I must have been quite a load
for four girls to carry.
     Then, the sun was off my face. I was inside a building, but an old,
unused one from the musty smell and creaking boards. I was hot. October in
Southern California can be quite warm, and there was little ventilation in
the building.
     "He's waking up!" a girl's voice hissed.
     "I'll take care of it," another said. I felt my head being held
up. There was a bottle at my lips with something cool and refreshing in
it. Without thinking, I drank as someone held my head.  Then I passed out
again.
     Unlike the night before, I dreamed, but I almost wished I hadn't. It
was dark in my dream - not the darkness of night, but rather the darkness
of something else - something evil and foreboding. It was the sort of dream
where you're standing in a shapeless room and can't even see the walls
unless you look right at them. But you aren't looking at the walls to begin
with. Instead, you are trying to figure out just what is in the room with
you. Whatever it is, it can't be seen; it can only be... felt. And
heard. It chuckled softly, amused by my discomfort. I had to get away from
it. I had to wake up. I -
     "Welcome back, Dan."
     I recognized the voice. It was Stacy - Stacy Palmer, one of the girls
in my class. Slowly, I opened my eyes, letting myself be flooded with
sensations. It was dark, but I was still in the building. The moldy odor
was still there. Moonlight flooded in through an open window, and a cool
breeze played over my naked body.
     Naked?
     Yes, I was naked. I tried to move an arm to cover myself so Stacy
couldn't see me, but my arm refused to move. It wasn't that I was tied
down. Rather, I was laid out, spread-eagled on the rough wooden floor,
unable to move anything but my head. I turned it from side to side, making
out five figures in the semi-darkness. They were all girls from their
shapes. I recognized Stacy from her blonde hair in the soft
moonlight. Jenny was standing next to her. As for the others, they were too
far from the light for me to see who they were.
     I was relieved to see they weren't carry torches, long knives and
wearing black robes, but somehow I got the feeling they might as well have
been.
     "What... what have you done to me?" I managed to ask through
drug-thickened lips.
     "Nothing - yet," another voice replied, amused. This got a little
giggle from the group. I thought I recognized that voice, too. Yes, it was
Stephanie Long, another girl in my class. Let's see, Stacy, Stephanie and
Jenny. That meant the other two were probably Karen Withers and Pam
Davison. The five of them hung around together.
     "We're going to make sure you never do to any other girl what you did
to Allison," another voice said. Yeah, that sounded like Pam's voice.
     "Are we ready to begin?" another voice asked. It was Karen. Hail,
hail, the gang's all here, my dulled mind thought.
     "Not quite." It was Jenny. Good to her word, she was going to help
me. Good old Jen - Jenny. "I want to claim him."
     There was a collective gasp from the other girls. Claim me? What the
hell was she talking about?
     "Jenny," Stacy said softly, "we all agreed..."
     "I know." I could see Jenny's head nodding in the moonlight. "But this
isn't like the Swensons. I mean, Dan's never done anything like this
before."
     "And he never will again after tonight," somebody interjected to
sounds of laughter. I couldn't tell who had said it.
     "No, he won't," Jenny said evenly, "but shouldn't some good come out
of all of this? You know what my... my parents have been going
through. This is a chance to use this terrible incident for good. I promise
you he won't have an easy time of it."
     They were all quiet for a moment, as if considering Jenny's words.
     "We'll all see to that," Stephanie said to the added mutterings of
agreement from the other girls.
     "Then it's agreed?" Jenny asked.
     "No!" It was Karen. Her voice was strong and angry. She got in Jenny's
face. "We all agreed what was to become of him and all like him."
     "I'll take responsibility for him," Jenny argued, holding her
ground. "It won't be pleasant for him."
     "Let her have him!" Stacy broke in, pulling Karen away. Even in the
dim light I could see the flash of anger in Karen's dark eyes. "It's nearly
midnight. We will all make sure he suffers as planned."
     Karen relaxed slightly. "Very well, but remember our pledge. He
suffers as we planned."
     As Karen looked from girl to girl, each silently nodded. I began to
sweat. What had they planned for me? Were they going to castrate me? I had
heard of girls doing that for revenge. I tried to speak, to make them
understand that I wasn't a rapist. There was something wrong with me that I
couldn't control. It wasn't my fault. But I could say none of that. All
that came out of my mouth were unintelligible mutterings.
     "Oh look," Karen said, her attention suddenly focused on me. "He's
trying to talk. Enjoy your nice, deep voice. It's the last time you'll ever
hear it that way."
     My eyes widened. Oh my god, I was right - they planned to castrate me!
I suppose looking back on it, they did - in a way. They gathered around me
in a circle. I couldn't turn my head far enough to see all of them, but I
could hear them, chanting in some language I had never heard before. In the
moonlight, I could see their eyes, or at least I could see Jenny and
Karen's eyes. Then I realized it wasn't just reflected light in their
eyes. Their eyes had taken on a luminescence of their own.
     The night before waking up over Allison had been a frightening
experience for me, but it was nothing like this. I could feel my breathing
becoming rapid and irregular. Perspiration was forming all over my body. My
muscles hurt as I tried to move - to get up and run as fast as I could -
but I couldn't move, except for my head. I could feel my heart beating
faster, as if it were about to explode. I thought I might be dying.
     Then there were suddenly new sensations. My skin began to crawl. It
was almost as if there were live creatures under my skin, causing it to
ripple and shift. There were other sensations as well. There was a tickling
at the back of my neck, a pinprick pain in the lobes of my ears, and my
body temperature seemed to be rising to an uncomfortable level, almost as
if it were cooking away.
     I tried to look down to see what was happening to my body, but
although I could turn my head from side to side, I was unable to lift
it. The muscles in my neck seemed as unresponsive as everywhere else. I
could only feel what was happening. I cried out in fear and frustration,
surprised to hear that my voice sounded strained and high-pitched.
     Curiously, I felt an erection, as if fear could sexually stimulate
me. Then, it seemed to ebb, my penis becoming flaccid. Well, not exactly
flaccid; it was almost as if it wasn't there. I felt an odd sensation
between my legs - not unpleasant but odd. In fact, my entire body felt
odd. I felt strange sensations in my nipples, as if the perspiration and
the night breeze had combined to make them suddenly sensitive. Again, the
feeling was more odd than unpleasant. Just what had happened to me? I
wondered as the chanting stopped. Before I could consider it further, I
passed out again. It was getting to be a disturbing habit.
     I dreamed that night - vivid dreams of unimaginable scope. It was as
if I was living my entire life in the dream, but not as myself. I was
someone else, but I couldn't tell just who. Many of my friends were there,
and to my relief, none of them seemed to be angry with me anymore. I needed
to know who I was. I looked down at myself and...
     ...began to hyperventilate. I was alone in a room and no longer
asleep. I had heard the gentle morning sounds outside - the breeze, the
birds, the occasional hum of tires on pavement. I had opened my eyes,
slowly at first for I was still tired. Maybe it had all been a dream. I was
in bed, wasn't I? Perhaps I really hadn't been at the mercy of Jenny and
her friends. Maybe the dream went back further, to the night before. Maybe
I had never assaulted Allison.
     Awareness came slowly. I began to realize that the room that I was in
was not my room.  The early morning light showed a room cast in pastel
yellows and complimentary whites. The Chargers poster and football trophies
were gone, replaced by things I didn't recognize. My covers were not
familiar, being more silky and lacy than I had ever known, and as I lay on
my back staring down at them, I saw two perceptible bumps beneath
them. Worse yet, I could feel the bumps. I sat up with a start. That was
when I began to hyperventilate again.
     My breasts - for I knew that's what they were - swung with gravity,
pulling downward slightly. My hips seemed to be a pool of flesh, far more
substantial than I would have imagined.  Hair fell about my shoulders, and
I could even feel it through the thin garment I wore. I tried to control my
breathing, uncomfortable with the high-pitched whisper each breath made.
     My brain overloaded. The sensations that flooded into it were too
alien to understand. I had to let it go. I had to scream. I prepared myself
to do just that when the door to my room opened and Jenny stepped in.
     "Shh!" she commanded. I was so surprised to see her that I managed to
swallow the scream before it happened. "You'll wake Mom and Dad."
     "Mom and Dad?" I managed to ask, embarrassed at my high, musical
voice. "We're at your house?"
     "Actually, we're at our house," she replied with a little grin as she
sat down on the bed next to me. I looked at her. She was wearing an outfit
which I realized was much like my own - a lacy nightie that I later learned
is called a chemise. The main difference was that hers was a rose color and
mine was white.
     "Our house?"
     "That's right," she said brightly. "You're my younger sister now."
     It took everything I had to keep from passing out again. Jenny only
had one sister, and she was dead. I looked down at myself again, then up at
Jenny. "I'm... I'm Lynn?"
     She shook her head. "No. But everyone will think you're a sister I
never had. Your name is Megan."
     "This isn't possible," I mumbled, bracing myself on one arm. Looking
down at the arm, it was easy to see it was possible. Instead of my normal
large, powerful arm and large receiver's hand, my arm was small and
slender, nearly hairless, ending in a small, graceful hand whose fingers
were tipped with feminine nails coated in a frosted pink shade.
     "I think you realize it is possible," she replied. "And before you
ask, it was magic. I won't tell you more than that, so don't bother
asking. You should thank me, actually. If Karen and some of the others had
had their way, you'd be like the Swenson brothers now."
     "You mentioned them before. Who are the Swenson brothers?"
     "They're the twin brothers who raped Becky Mitchell in July."
     I knew Becky well. She dated one of the guys on the team; she had
dated him for about a year. Becky was a bright, sunny girl. If she had been
raped, I would have heard about it. "Becky wasn't raped," I argued.
     "Oh yes she was," Jenny insisted. "You just don't remember it. That's
because we caught the Swensons just like we caught you. After they were
changed into girls, no one - including Becky - remembered anything about
the rape. No one but us even remembers the Swenson twins existed. But they
know. They're twin strippers at Girlville now."
     Girlville was a local strip club. Well, as local as any strip club
could be. It was a couple of miles out of town on the road to San
Diego. Come to think of it, my older brother had gone there a couple of
weekends ago while he was home, and he had mentioned something about twin
strippers. The word was they could be had cheap.
     I looked down at myself with a shudder. I tried not to think about
what it must be like to bare my new breasts at Girlville, a phony smile on
my face while I wiggled for tips.
     "I don't deserve this," I blurted, almost in tears.
     "I disagree," Jenny told me bluntly. "You nearly raped Allison. In
fact, if you hadn't been stopped before you could, I doubt if I could have
convinced the others to let me have you. As it is, it was close as you saw
last night."
     "But I didn't..." I began, unsure where to go with it. I had been
caught ready to rape Allison. The fact that I didn't remember doing it
didn't change the facts. I let my voice go silent.
     "Look, if you say anything else about how innocent you are, I'll let
Karen and the others have their way with you. It isn't too late, you
know. They can have you in platform heels stripping until your boobs sag
before you know it if I say the word. Is that clear?"
     There would be no arguing with her. The look she gave me was the
exclamation point at the end of her statement. I looked away to avoid her
stare. It was hard to do without looking down at myself, and I didn't want
to do that either.
     "And even if I believed you - which I don't - it wouldn't do you any
good."
     I managed to look up at her. "What do you mean?"
     "We can always change you into another girl, but we can't change you
into a guy again," she explained. "There are limits to the magic."
     I felt my new, smaller stomach turn and bile rise in my throat. Was
she telling me the truth? If she was, then no matter what I said or did, I
was condemned to be female for the rest of my life. It was as if my life
was over. I suppose in a way, it was. I would never play football - at
least not in college or the pros. I would never do a thousand things that I
had never verbalized, but would have been part of my life if I had remained
male. I would never marry a woman and father a child. I would never catch
the winning pass in the Super Bowl. I would never bench press four hundred
pounds. I would never be a man.
     Of course, other doors opened for me as surely as those doors had
closed, but I wanted no part of them. As I write these lines, I still don't
want them. I don't want to marry a man, get pregnant and give birth to a
baby. I don't want to live my life as a woman, although I see no other
option. But this was last Sunday, and I found the prospects of living my
life as a female even more frightening then than I find them now. How could
I do this?
     Slowly, I got out of bed. As Jenny watched, I made my way uncertainly
to a full-length mirror behind the door that Jenny had closed when she came
in. I watched in silent horror as the unfamiliar girl that was me got
closer and closer to the mirror. Through the chemise, I could see the shape
of round breasts, still not fully matured but substantial, that bounced
subtly behind the gossamer material of the nightie. My hips, I could see
were wide, although not as wide as other girls I had known, and my waist
was very narrow. My legs were long and well-shaped, ending in narrow ankles
and small, shapely feet. My arms were thin. I knew they were normal, but
after being a male who lifted weights often, they seemed like weak, useless
sticks.
     My hair was long and brown - the same color as Jenny's, and from the
pale white skin and small collection of freckles on my face, I looked like
a younger version of Jenny. "How... how old am I?"
     "Fifteen," Jenny replied. "You're a sophomore again."
     Then I was the same age Lynn would have been if she had lived. I was
actually a little relieved. My face looked so young and my body so girlish
I was afraid I was only twelve or thirteen. It would be bad enough going
through two years of school again - this time as a girl. If I had to go
back to middle school or even elementary school, it would be even worse. At
fifteen, I'd still have a little freedom and not be treated like a
child. But of course, I wasn't quite old enough to drive now.
     "Now, let me explain the rules," Jenny said, motioning for me to sit
down beside her on the bed. When I was seated, she continued, "The only way
I could get all the other girls to go along with this was to agree to how
you are to be treated and how you are to act. If you violate the rules, my
hands are tied, and most of the girls would love nothing better than to
make your life miserable."
     It was already miserable, I thought, but I kept my mouth shut.
     "You are now Megan Sue Dawson - Meg for short. You will act like a
normal fifteen year old girl at all times. That means you will dress like a
girl, act like a girl, talk like a girl, and think like a girl."
     "But I don't know how!" I protested.
     "I know you don't," she agreed, "but I'll teach you."
     I said nothing. What was there to say? I couldn't change back if Jenny
was to be believed, and since she had never knowingly lied to me, I
believed it was true. I would have to learn how to be a girl or die. To be
honest, dying didn't seem like such a bad idea. Okay, I was feeling sorry
for myself. In any case, I began to feel something welling up inside me. I
could feel my lips quivering.  Then, without warning, I burst into tears.
     Jenny put her arm around me. "Cheer up, Meg. It won't be that
bad. Besides, you're helping three families."
     "Th...three f...f...families?" I managed through the sobs.
     "That's right," she replied. "Reality has changed since your
transformation. Allison was pretty torn up by what you as Dan did to her."
     I turned to face Jenny, "But I didn't - "
     Jenny looked at me sternly. "Remember what I told you? I don't want to
hear that."
     I was silent.
     "Anyhow," Jenny went on, "Allison is fine now. Nothing ever happened
to her. And I'm sure your family is fine, too, without living with the
shame of what you did."
     "But... you mean they don't even remember me?" It was bad enough that
I had been changed. Now, it seemed I had never existed.
     "That's right. It's actually easier since you had three
brothers. Residual memories they might have of you will be attributed to
one of your brothers."
     I stopped to consider all the things I had done together with my
brothers. Jenny was probably right. Many of the things I did could just as
easily have been done by one of my brothers.  I broke my arm at the age of
eight when I fell out of a tree. Allen had broken his at nine. Now, if my
parents even thought about it, they'd just think of Allen. My god, I wasn't
even going to be a clear memory. This was worse than being dead. I never
even existed!
     "You mentioned a third family," I managed to say.
     "I thought that would be obvious," Jenny remarked. "I was referring to
my family. Meg, you and I grew apart a little when we got older. No, don't
protest. It's natural. I had girl interests and you had boy interests. Do
you remember how Lynn was killed?"
     I nodded. "Yeah. She died in a car accident."
     "That's right," Jenny agreed. "Dad had just picked her up from some
Girl Scout function.  He was tired that evening; he had worked late the
night before. He got distracted and ran a red light. He was lucky, but Lynn
was killed instantly. Mom never forgave him for that, and to be frank, I
don't think he ever forgave himself. Meg, my parents - our parents now -
have been on the verge of breaking up. They fight too much and they drink
too much. It all started with Lynn's death.
     "Don't you see? You were the perfect opportunity for me to correct
that tragedy. We were going to change you anyway. Why not use you to
replace Lynn? No one remembers Lynn now - except me. So you see, our
parents don't even remember losing Lynn."
     "Wouldn't it just have been easier to make me into Lynn? You could
have made me forget who I was and warp reality so that everybody believed I
was Lynn and that the accident never happened," I pointed out.
     "It takes all of us to do the magic," she explained. "I might have
done that if I could do it alone. The other girls wanted you punished for
what you did to Allison. You had to remember who you had been so you'd
remember what you lost. You have to be a girl even though you don't want to
be. Otherwise, it wouldn't be a punishment."
     That still didn't explain why she hadn't turned me into Lynn. There
was something she was hesitating to tell me. I didn't know what it was. In
fact, I still don't. Whatever it could be, I would have to wait to find
out. I suspected it was just because she couldn't stand to have me pretend
to be Lynn. Better to have me be an entirely new sister and have her
parents believe that Lynn never existed.
     "Now, our parents will be up soon," Jenny went on. "They'll want us to
go to church with them. I have a lot of things to go over with you, so
let's get started."
     I was sure I wasn't going to like my lessons in girlhood, and I was
right. The first thing I had to learn was basic feminine hygiene, like how
to take a pee and wipe myself. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to release
my now-full bladder, but I found taking a pee no more difficult than as a
male. The only difference, of course, was that I now had to squat to pee. I
watched in morbid fascination as I wiped myself. The feminine slit was
clearly visible through my silky pubic hair, and as I wiped, I realized
that it wouldn't be long until many guys considered that innocuous little
bit of anatomy as a grand prize. I vowed to myself to make sure that day
was a long time off.
     Jenny had me take a quick shower. She emphasized the quick part. I
think she was afraid that the pervert part of me might want to play with
all the new parts. Nothing could have been further from the truth. I tried
very hard to spend as little time washing the emptiness between my legs as
possible. And as for the breasts, I reddened slightly every time I looked
down at them. I was particularly distressed to see the oversized pink
nipples become slightly erect as the water cascaded off them.
     I winced at the thought of putting on silk pink panties and a matching
bra, but I had to admit - only to myself of course - that they felt right
over my altered body. They clung reassuringly to my skin. It felt strange
to be putting on panties without a slit in them. Of course, I thought with
a sudden twisted inspiration, they did have a slit in them - all the way in
them. Of course, even if there had been a slit in the front, it wouldn't
have done me much good. My days of standing at the urinal were over.
     Many people went to church dressed casually. It had to be my luck to
be thrust into a family that still believed in dressing up for
church. Jenny patiently showed me how to put on panty hose and a dress,
selecting the proper jewelry to go with the demure little blue and white
floral print dress that I was wearing.
     I think I might have been able to stand the dress and the pantyhose
and even the black one-inch heels that I quickly learned to balance in, but
I was sure then and I'm sure now that I will never learn to like
makeup. Jenny found lipstick that matched my nails, and worked like an
artist on my eyes. Fortunately at fifteen, I needed only a minimum of
foundation, so I was spared feeling too much like a clown.
     When she had finished, I looked again in the mirror. The little girl I
had feared was only twelve during my first glance in the mirror had
disappeared. In her place was a very attractive young woman. From my long
brushed hair accented by small pearl earrings to my small, heeled feet, I
was someone who was bound to attract attention. I nearly gasped when I saw
myself.
     "Not bad, huh?" Jenny remarked with a grin.
     I didn't know what to say, but I knew what I was thinking: No, not bad
at all.
     Jenny got ready while I stayed in my new room, familiarizing myself
with my new surroundings. She was right, I supposed. It could have been a
lot worse. It was better to be her kid sister than a known sex criminal,
that was for certain. And it was far better to be her kid sister than to be
a stripper down at Girlville like the Swensons. Even though I couldn't
remember them, I pitied them - doomed to be strippers and horny sluts for
the rest of their lives. Did they know who they had been? I assumed they
did. That made it all the worse.
     At least I knew Jenny's parents and had always liked them. I was sorry
to hear her real sister's death had hurt their relationship so badly. It
gave me a little peace of mind to realize that by becoming Meg, I might be
helping them.
     I looked at myself in the mirror again. Well, if I had to be a girl,
it was better to be a cute one. Still, those slender arms and small hands
would never catch a pass again. The only passes I was going to catch were
the kind I didn't want. Okay, so I wasn't going to be much of an athlete. I
had always been a good student, and repeating most of high school meant
that I'd know how to ace most of the classes. So I was stuck with brains
and beauty. I suppose for a lot of people that wouldn't be much of a
punishment.
     Wait a minute, I thought. The girls had indicated I was to suffer. Did
they have more in mind for me? I'd have to stay alert. But in the mean
time, I'd just have to be Meg. If Jenny thought I was knuckling under and
being a good kid sister, I might have time to figure out how to keep
control of my life. I might be stuck as a girl, but I was going to be one
on my terms.
     My resolve almost collapsed in church. It was bad enough to present
myself as Meg to Jenny's unsuspecting parents, but it was quite another
thing to go to church with them and face a number of my old friends. There
I was, in the United Methodist Church with my new family, while several of
the guys I had known and played football with tried to hide their stares. I
told myself at first that they were looking at Jenny, but I knew
better. They were looking at both of us.
     And it wasn't just the guys who were looking at me. Pam and Karen were
sitting together, and when they saw me, they both grinned at me and
snickered to themselves. I hoped they choked on it.
     After church, "Dad" took us to breakfast. Richard Dawson was a nice
guy. I had always liked him. Like my father - my real father - he had
played football, but only through college. He had become a CPA after
college and now headed his own small firm. He was in his early forties, a
little overweight, and starting to get a little thin on top, but his hair
was dark brown without a trace of gray. My new mother, Jan Dawson, looked a
lot like an older version of Jenny - and presumable me. I supposed if I
could look like her at forty, I wouldn't be doing so badly - for a
girl. Apparently, my presence had already had an effect. My new parents
seemed to be deeply attached to Jenny and me - and to each other. The
bitter memories of losing Lynn were gone.  Whatever memories they had of
Lynn were now attributed to me.
     "So what happens now?" I asked Jenny once we had gotten home and were
alone again.
     "Nothing happens. You just live your life as Meg," Jenny told me with
a shrug.
     "I don't believe you, Jenny," I said as I put on a pair of jeans while
Jenny watched with amusement.
     She frowned at me. I began to fear I had crossed the line with her,
but there was no going back. "What are you talking about?"
     "I don't think your friends are content to just make me your kid
sister. They have something else in mind."
     She relaxed a little bit. "You're right, they do. They want you to be
a slut. If they had had their way, you'd be one of the biggest sluts in the
school. We could have done that. You could have been one grade A little sex
bunny."
     I shuddered at the thought. "But I'm not." Then, worried, I added, "Am
I?"
     She shook her head. "No, you're just a normal girl with normal sex
drives. I made sure of that when you were changed. I've got enough power to
do that."
     "So where did your power come from?" I asked, slipping on a T-shirt
that did little to hide my breasts.
     "I told you not to talk about that."
     "Oh, come on," I urged. "What would it hurt you to tell me? I'm just
curious." It was a true statement. Like most people, I thought magic was
something a guy in a tux did on TV. I never expected to find out it was
real - particularly in such a dramatic fashion. Besides, the more I knew
about what had been done to me, the more I could protect myself from any
further magic. I didn't want to find myself yearning for some guy's cock,
thanks to another magic spell.
     "All right," she said after a moment's hesitation. She sat down on the
bed as I finished dressing. "Stacy's boyfriend found a medallion and gave
it to her last summer. It turned out to be some sort of magical device."
     "How did you figure that out?"
     "We had it researched," she explained. "We found it was something the
Indians in this area had back before the Spaniards settled here. It
apparently gave tribal shamans magical powers. We started experimenting
with it."
     "So you changed the Swensons into strippers. Is that all it will do?"
I asked, sitting next to her. "Does it just change males into females?"
     "We don't know yet," Jenny admitted. "It may have other powers, but we
haven't figured them out yet."
     I kept quiet. Of course it had other powers. It could shift
reality. Otherwise, everyone would have known the Swenson boys had
disappeared. Just like everyone would know that Dan Korby had disappeared
and that Meg Dawson never existed.  I didn't want to point that out to
Jenny just yet. It was almost as if she wasn't really aware of the
significance of the medallion. Why wasn't she? Jenny was a very smart girl
- so were her friends for that matter. It was as if their judgment was
impaired. I don't know why I realized this when she didn't. Feminine
intuition?  Yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was because I had been exposed to the
process without being one of the wielders of the magic. I'd just have to
file that thought away until later. No sense in alerting anyone of my
suspicions.
     I spent the day studying, interrupted by phone calls from "friends."
Most of the friends were kids I knew. After all, our high school wasn't
terribly large - just a couple of hundred students in each class. So we
knew each other, either from sports or other activities. Some of my new
friends were younger siblings of my former classmates. Meg seemed to be a
fairly popular girl, judging from the number of phone calls I got. I was
starting to wonder if I would get any time to study. Brains and beauty, I
told myself. I had to do well in school.
     Fortunately, almost every course I seemed to be taking was a course I
had taken before as Dan. That meant I didn't have to focus on the
concepts. Instead, I could focus on the details, giving myself that little
edge that was often the difference between an A and a B. As I studied, it
was almost normal again - almost like I was myself. Then, suddenly about
three that afternoon, I realized I was missing the Sunday games. The odd
thing was that I didn't seem to care. Now, that was quite unlike me.
     That was the first inkling I had that something had changed besides my
body. If I concentrated hard, I still liked football, just as I had as
Dan. But if I didn't think about it, it became unimportant. What else had
changed? I hesitated to think. Maybe I should start to write things down.
     While going through my desk, I had found a diary.  "Meg" had
apparently begun the diary at the beginning of the school year. I glance at
the first page with its feminine start of "Dear Diary." Gag me with a
spoon. I threw the flowery book back into the desk drawer as if it were
radioactive. You'd never catch me using a diary. Not me.
     But I had to keep track of who I really was and what I really thought,
didn't I? There had to be another way, though. No diary for me. Not now -
not ever.
     So I made it through my first day of girlhood. Maybe it was just the
shock of the change, but it didn't seem too terrible. I wondered if
prisoners got through their first day in prison the same way. Maybe just
the shock of being trapped by prison walls dampened all other feelings.
Maybe the shock of my transformation was sufficient to dampen my
emotions. After all, shouldn't I be crying and beating my chest (or should
it be breasts?)? Somehow, that seemed counterproductive. Besides, it was
probably what Jenny and her friends wanted me to do.
     Well, maybe not Jenny. While she had not exactly been her old friendly
self with me, she had not mistreated me. God knows she had the perfect
opportunity to rub it in. She could easily have been taunting, "How does it
feel to be a little girl, little girl?" followed by maniacal laughter.  She
could have forced me to wear something frilly all day if she had put her
mind to it, instead of the jeans and T-shirt I had found actually both
modest and comfortable. For the most part, she left me alone, just like
most big sisters would do, I suspected. After all for the most part, my
older brothers had left me alone when I was a boy and I usually left Jake
alone.
     The real challenge would be the next day, I realized as I got ready
for bed. I would have to face all my old friends in the body of a sweet
young girl. I had gotten a little taste of it at church, but I knew the
next day would be far worse. I couldn't then have imagined how much worse
it would be.
     "You look great," Jenny said with an evil grin the next morning.
     I didn't feel great, though. I hadn't argued when Jenny had helped me
pick out an outfit.  After all, another T-shirt and overalls seemed a
modest outfit for my first day in school as a girl.  Silly me. I hadn't
realized the overalls would be cut as shorts. "Shortalls" some of the girls
called them. This left my smooth, feminine legs exposed. I missed my
tanned, muscular legs covered in dark hair. And the T-shirt wasn't the
plain one I had worn the day before. Oh, it was still plain, but it was a
pastel yellow with lacy trim at the sleeves and neck. And the cut of the
overalls didn't disguise my breasts as I had hoped; rather it emphasized
them. At least I got to wear tennis shoes, but the lacy tops on the socks
were almost too much.
     Jenny had helped me again with hair, makeup and accessories, but she
had made me do more of it while she critiqued me. Unfortunately, I did too
good a job. If I had been male and spotted a girl who looked like me, I
would have probably walked into a tree while staring. No, this wasn't going
to be a very good day.
     Things really went downhill from there. Jenny offered me a ride to
school. Stacy was picking her up in a few minutes. I agreed. I didn't
really want to face Stacy, but I had even less desire to face a school bus
loaded with my classmates. I should have taken the bus.
     "Don't you look hot today!" Stacy commented with a nasty little laugh
as I climbed in the back seat of her car. Jenny flashed me a look that
warned me to be quiet.
     "I think your little sister is going to be a heartbreaker," Stacy went
on when Jenny had gotten in beside her. "And in another year or so, those
pretty little breasts might be even bigger.  Then, she'll really stop
traffic."
     My face was flushed. I knew Stacy was enjoying my embarrassment. She
wasn't the only one. When we pulled up in the parking lot at school,
Stephanie, Karen and Pam were waiting for us. They were having a grand time
watching me bend over to get my books out of the seat.
     "Ooh, nice ass, girl," Pam called to me. I took an extra moment
fumbling with my books so they couldn't see how red my face was.
     "Great outfit, too," Karen called out. "It's very feminine."
     They all laughed at that - even Jenny.
     "So, do you have a date yet for this Friday?" Stephanie asked as we
entered the building and walked toward our classes.
     As if on cue, Andy Thompson, a sophomore halfback on the football
team, turned from his locker and faced me. "Hi, Meg," he said
smoothly. "How about you and me - after the game Friday?"
     Something told me his mind had been nudged to ask me out. I had no
doubt of it when I heard Karen snicker, followed by the others. "We'll see
you later, Meg," she said, and just like that, I was alone with Andy.
     As Meg, I had spoken with a couple of guys on the phone Sunday. They
had called just to talk, and I had gotten rid of them fairly quickly. At
church, I had spoken to a couple of boys after church, but I was with my
"family" and could hurry away. This was the first time I had been forced to
stand and talk to a guy one on one since my transformation. And I didn't
like it.
     Why? Well, the main reason was that standing there, talking to Andy,
something started stirring inside me. As Dan, I had talked to Andy - and
other guys like him - every day. But this was different. He towered over my
new form, every part of his body a reminder of what I had lost. He was tall
and I wasn't. He had broad shoulders and muscular arms while my shoulders
were slender and my arms smooth and feminine. He carried his books in a
large paw while I had to clutch mine to my breasts since they were too
thick and heavy for my small, graceful hands. He looked strong and
confident while I... well, I knew I wasn't strong and I certainly didn't
feel confident.
     But that wasn't the worst of it, not really. The worst of it was that
I found myself strangely drawn to Andy. It was a feeling similar to what I
had experienced as Dan when in the presence of a pretty girl - minus of
course the start of an erection. But even there, I felt a twitching
sensation.  The main difference was that I also felt something at the tips
of my breasts. Oh dear god, I was getting turned on by... by... a guy!
     "What do you say, Meg?"
     "Huh?"
     Andy sighed. "Friday - after the game. We'll go do something. Okay?"
     I should have said no; I knew that. But part of me was... curious for
lack of a better word.  Besides, I knew Andy as no girl could. We had
played football together. He was a good guy. I wouldn't have any problems
with him. And if I was stuck as a girl, I was going to have to go out with
a guy sometime or everyone would think I was a lesbian or something. Better
to go out with somebody like Andy who I knew pretty well than some guy
who'd want to paw me all evening.
     "Sure," I managed, almost choking on the word.
     Andy grinned. "Great. Later then." And he was gone, a happy smile on
his face, leaving me to wonder just what the hell I was thinking.
     I guess after that the day wasn't too bad. Fortunately, there was a
class schedule attached to my notebook, and I knew where all the classes
were since I had taken most of them as Dan.  The only ones that were new to
me were Home Economics and Phys Ed. Home Ec was something most of the girls
and even a few of the guys took. My mother had always believed we boys
should know how to cook and sew, too, so it wasn't anything I hadn't been
exposed to before.
     Phys Ed was weird, though. I hadn't had to take it as a guy since I
was out for football. It was strange to disrobe in front of a bunch of
girls and not have anyone give me a second look. I looked, though, but it
didn't do anything for me. Whatever magic had changed me had changed my
physical responses to sex as well. Now, my body got all tingly when I saw
some guy like Andy, but girls were just... well, girls. Like
me. Consciously, of course, it was another issue. I was trying very hard to
be attracted to the girls I saw undressing. But as much as my mind wanted
to be a normal guy, my body refused to cooperate.
     That Phys Ed period was probably the most frustrating hour I had spent
since my transformation. As Dan Korby, I had been gifted with natural
physical ability. I had strength, speed and coordination that were the envy
of even my fellow athletes. Now, though, I felt like a spastic. As we
played volleyball - a girl's game in the eyes of most jocks - I realized I
was one of the scrubs. I was small, weak, and completely uncoordinated. Oh,
I was fairly quick, but when it came my turn to serve, I couldn't even get
the ball over the net. And when it was my turn to play at the net, I was
being muscled out by girls I would have considered fairly petite when I was
Dan.  I had lost my athletic ability completely. To make it worse, I felt
like crying.
     By the end of the day, I was pretty bummed out. Oh, I had done all
right, I suppose. At least I hadn't made any big mistakes. As far as
everyone was concerned, I was Meg Dawson and always had been. That is,
everyone except for Jenny and her friends. As the day went on, I would
catch them looking my way, little knowing smiles on their lips.  I could
hear their smug little giggles when I opened my locker door grazing a boob
that stuck out farther than I had expected.  They were enjoying every
minute of it. I guess it made sense. As far as they were concerned, they
had nailed the big dumb jock sex maniac. They had changed him into a sweet
little girl for the rest of his - her - life. Now all they had to do was
sit back and watch the fun.
     "You okay, Meg?" It was Brenda Wright. Although she was a sophomore
like I now was, I knew her because she dated Jim Moran, a friend of my
brother's. Jim was on the team, so Brenda was often hanging around.
     "Just a little tired, I guess," I told her truthfully as we walked out
of school together. I would have to endure the bus for my trip home.
     "I'm not surprised," she told me in that little chirpy voice of
hers. "You must have studied like crazy over the weekend. You blew
Ms. Winters away."
     Ms. Winters was our biology teacher, and yes, I had blown her away. I
had answered every question she had asked me correctly, which I began to
realize was not Megan's style. It was true in my other classes,
too. Apparently, Megan hadn't gotten off to a real good start in high
school. I got the idea I was supposed to be a C student at best. I also got
the idea from the attention I got that Megan was majoring in boys. Well
move over, world, because a new Megan was on the scene. If Jenny and her
friends thought they could turn me into a complete ditz, they had another
thought coming.
     "Look," Brenda continued, why don't you go to football practice with
me?"
     "Oh, I don't think so, Brenda." I was reluctant to do so for a couple
of reasons. First, I was tired - tired of being seen as a girl and just
plain tired. Next, I remember what the guys on the team always said when
they saw girls in the stands at practice. "She's just trolling," someone
would say, and the rest of us would laugh. Come to think of it, that was
how I had ended up in the back seat of a Buick with Vickie
Peters. "Besides, I have to catch my bus."
     "Oh, come on," she said, playfully tugging my arm. "They've only got
about an hour more to practice, and then I'll have Jim drop you off at
home. You can use my cell phone to call your mom."
     Well, why not? I really wanted to see how some of the guys were doing
on the team, and since I couldn't practice with them, I supposed it was the
next best thing. Fortunately, I remembered my new phone number and okayed
everything with "Mom."
     It was a big mistake, just as I had feared. It just made my heart ache
to see all my old friends out there on the field together. It should have
been me out there, I kept thinking. And the worst of it was when Hank
Arnold would catch a pass. He was my backup, so every time he caught the
ball, I kept thinking it should have been me. Then, just to add insult to
injury, every now and then a few of the guys would look up in the stands
and see the girls sitting there watching. I could see the sly little grins
on their faces. They thought I was trolling! Assholes!
     Of course, there was certainly some trolling going on. Vickie Peters
was there, and she seemed to have her eye on Hank. I wondered if I
shouldn't tell Hank that he was going to be my backup there, too. Hank had
his own car - a little used Toyota. As wild as Vickie could get, I wondered
how he was going to have room for her in his back seat.
     At last the practice ended. It wasn't a total loss, I suppose. I used
the time to get some studying done so I wouldn't have to do it later. It
served the extra function of taking my eyes off the guys on the field. To
my dismay, I found I was actually watching them not as football players but
as good-looking guys. I was starting to have little fantasies that I'd
rather not write down here. So I began studying to take my mind off the
beefcake on the field.
     We met Jim at his car, and Brenda got up on tiptoes and gave him a big
kiss. Would that be me someday? Would I ever perch up on my toes to kiss
some guy's stubbled cheek? The thought should have made my stomach turn,
but for some reason, it didn't.
     "We need to take Meg home," Brenda chirped to Jim. I was a little
surprised to realize it wasn't a request - it was an order. Here was Jim
Moran, a big solid football player taking orders from a little wisp like
Brenda. Yet he didn't seem to mind.
     "No prob, babe," Jim grinned. "I gotta drop Jake off, and he doesn't
live too far from Meg."
     Jake? Not my brother Jake! But my brother was the only Jake on the
team. I practically ran when I heard Jake's voice call, "Hi, Brenda. Hi,
Meg."
     I turned to face Jake. Instinctively, I looked down since as Dan I had
always been taller than Jake. Unfortunately, looking down made it appear
now as if I were focussing on his crotch. I quickly looked up at the
grinning face of the boy who had once been my brother. Like all the Korby
boys, Jake was a good-looking guy. I had known that as his brother. Now,
though, I was seeing him in a different light. What I saw was a big strong
fellow - a little less than a man but much more than a boy. I stifled an
unexpected gasp.
     Jake even held the car door open for me. Then, he got in next to
me. There was no contact between us, although his arm was draped across the
car seat just above my shoulders.  Mostly, he talked with Jim about
practice. He did nothing and said nothing on the way home that could be
interpreted as a move, but I felt uncomfortable nonetheless. It wasn't
until they had dropped me off that I began to realize that deep down I
wanted him to make a move.
     That brings me to why I started writing this diary. I realized I would
need to if I wanted to keep control of myself. I need a record I can refer
to which will remind me who I really am. I'll try to keep filing it out
regularly. Now, that doesn't mean daily, but I'll try to make it a cohesive
chronicle. I've been Megan almost a week now, and every day I find I'm
losing a little piece of Dan. It probably started the minute I looked at
myself in the mirror, but I didn't really notice it then.
     I notice it now, though. Every morning that I get up, I do things like
quickly sliding earrings into the holes in my ears or shaving my legs and
under my arms without so much as a second thought. Yesterday, I even
decided to wear a skirt and dark tights to school because I thought it
would look "cute." I was dressed before I realized how unlike Dan that
was. I also couldn't seem to get the thought out of my mind that the boys
would like my legs. I even caught a couple gazing at them in school
yesterday and didn't get all embarrassed. Instead, I kind of liked it.
     Damn! I had to stop writing there for a minute because I started
crying. That seems to happen a lot, too.
     I've tried to hide a lot of this from Jenny. I think it's because I'm
afraid this is exactly what she and her friends wanted to happen. The last
thing I want to do is give all of them the satisfaction of knowing that I'm
trying to fight off this unwanted attraction to boys.
     Oh, I still talk to Jenny. She's given me a lot of tips on clothes,
makeup and jewelry.  Without her help, I'd probably be a fashion
nightmare. In fact, I suppose our relationship is developing into a big
sister-kid sister relationship not unlike hundreds of thousands around the
world. It's hard though, because once we had a different relationship. Now,
I'm her little sister.
     It amazes me how "normal" all of this has become. I suppose it was to
be expected. After all, if I'm constantly treated as if I had always been
Megan, eventually I have no choice but to act that way. But I must never
forget that underneath the surface, I'm someone else. I may look like Megan
Dawson, but I'm really Dan Korby. I must never forget that.

     Saturday, 26 October, 1996
     I'm so pissed as I write this I can barely see straight. I waited up
for Jenny last night so I could confront her. Then, I remembered she said
something about spending the night at Stephanie's. I fought back the
impulse to call her there, but then I realized some of her other partners
in magical mayhem were probably there, too. They would have laughed their
asses off at my discomfort. There was no sense in giving them something to
laugh about. So I flopped into bed and managed to drift off to sleep after
a while, stilled pissed.
     My "parents" asked what was wrong at breakfast, but all I would tell
them is that Andy and I had had an argument and I was still mad at
him. They didn't press. They had already watched one daughter go through
the ups and downs of relationships with boys, so they knew when not to
press. It was just as well. I didn't want to tell them what had happened
anyway.
     The ironic thing is that the day before had begun as the best day
since my transformation.  It was a little cool that day, and Jenny had
suggested I wear a pair of jeans and a silky white turtleneck and carry a
dark blue sweater that I could slip on at the game. It turned out to be the
kind of outfit that suited me well. My formerly masculine mind didn't see
it as being particularly feminine, even with the little gold necklace I was
wearing, and yet all the other girls complimented me on how good it looked.
     Then in classes, my reputation as a good student was enhanced when I
got back a couple of quizzes with not just good grades but the highest
grades in the class. Even my teachers were starting to realize that my
sudden interest in classes at the first of the week wasn't just a fluke. In
fact, Mr. Mackenzie in California History even held me back after class
just to tell me how proud he was of me.
     "I suspected you had the ability, Megan," he told me with a smile,
"but you just never seemed very interested in this subject before. If you
keep this up, I'll even throw out that poor score you got on the first
quiz."
     So I certainly had reason to be happy yesterday. The only other
milestone the day still held out for me was my very first date - well, my
first date as Megan. And I was even looking forward to that. After all, I
had known Andy for a long time. I had no reason to expect him to be
anything other than the Andy I had always known.
     Boy, was I wrong.
     It started well enough. We won our game last night, and when Andy met
me outside the locker room, we were both in a good mood. Yep, it was the
same old Andy. We talked about the game as we walked to his car. Andy was
even pleased to find that I had a good grasp of his contributions to the
game. He even complimented me on understanding more about football than
most girls. Although he meant it as a compliment, it bothered me. For a few
minutes, it had just been like old times with my friend Andy. Now, I
realized, I was different, and when I expressed an opinion on a male
subject like football, my knowledge would be respected as keen - for a
girl.
     Once in his car, things fell apart fast. I had expected him to take me
to one of the after-game parties. There were always a couple of sponsored
parties and a couple of parties at students' houses. There we could talk
and laugh with our friends, celebrating the victory. My good humor
evaporated though as I realized Andy was driving out of town.
     "Uh... where are we going, Andy?" I asked nervously as the lights of
town receded.
     "Not far," he replied vaguely. "There's something I want you to see."
     The something was a little overlook by the river. Or maybe that wasn't
the only "something" he wanted me to see. He turned off the car and groped
for me in one smooth motion.
     "Andy!" I practically screamed. "What's wrong with you?"
     He looked confused in the darkness. "Me? What's wrong with you?"
     This wasn't going where I wanted it to go. "I think you'd better take
me home," I said primly.
     "Meg, what the hell is wrong with you?" he boomed, causing me to jump.
     "I...I..." It was impossible for me to explain it to him.
     I half expected him to jump me anyway. Instead, he leaned back in his
seat and mumbled, "After last Friday, I thought we had a good thing
going. I guess you're just like Vickie Peters, trying to make the whole
team and tonight isn't my turn."
     Now it was my turn to be confused. I had seen Andy at the party I had
attended with Allison last Friday - where this whole mess had gotten
started. He was with April Turlow that night. But of course, Megan Dawson
had not really existed then, no matter what he thought. But apparently the
magic had changed the past - or more likely, memories of the past.  So just
what did Andy think he had done with Megan last Friday night? Whatever it
was, it must have been something to rate the secluded spot I had suddenly
found myself in.
     So was Megan like Vickie Peters? Was that what everyone remembered? I
was starting to get the feeling that Megan Dawson was something of a bad
girl. My reputation would be confirmed I was sure by disappearing with
Andy, no matter what really happened.
     And nothing was going to happen - I was pretty sure of that. Why only
"pretty sure" and not "completely sure?" Well, because to be completely
honest, something deep inside me wanted it to happen. There was a part of
my new being that wanted Andy to ignore my protests and...  And what? Go
all the way? It might not be the first time for Megan, I realized
grimly. Although I had resisted the temptation to sexually experiment with
myself so far, I suspected Megan was no virgin. Just what had Jenny and her
friends done to me? Wasn't it bad enough that they had turned me into a
fifteen year old girl? Did they want to make me a slut as well?
     The rest of the evening wasn't very pleasant. Andy did take me home,
dropping me off with the minimum of verbal courtesies. I couldn't really
blame him, I guess. I still remember what it's like to have a hard-on in
your pants. If I were still Dan and had every reason to suspect that the
girl in the car with me was going to do something about that hard-on, I'd
be pissed, too. But like Andy, I'd have taken the girl home, just as he
took me home. I'm no sexual criminal no matter what people remember - or
used to remember.
     So here I am, Saturday morning, and if Jenny doesn't get home soon,
I'm probably going to explode. And what really pisses me off more than
anything else is that I still have this little gnawing curiosity about what
it would have felt like if I had let Andy have his way.

     Sunday, 27 October, 1996
     So okay, I've calmed down a little today. Jenny and I didn't see much
of each other on Saturday, and when we did, we weren't alone. She could
tell I was annoyed, though. Of course, that probably made her all the more
certain to avoid me. I tried to talk to her when she came in from a date
last night, but she protested she was too tired. Besides, Mom was still up
and hovering around her until bedtime, so I didn't get a chance to confront
her.
     I finally got her alone when we got back from church. I was pissed all
over again since I saw a couple of guys I knew to be friends of Andy's
giving me knowing looks. I guess they figured Andy had scored, and they
were just admiring the trophy. Then there were the girls. The ones like
Jenny who had managed to keep their so-called virtue looked at me as if I
belonged over at Girlville.
     "Just what's going on, Jenny?" I asked, storming into her room after
her. Our parents had dropped us off, then joined some friends for brunch.
     "What are you talking about?" she asked calmly as she stripped out of
her church dress in favor of something more casual. I tried to keep my
train of thought and not think about Jenny's large breasts. Now, don't get
me wrong. I wasn't interested in them that way. I just couldn't help
wondering if mine would get that large.
     "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
     She turned to face me, coming close enough that I was suddenly made
aware that she was now at least two inches taller than me. "No, I don't,
and if you want this conversation to continue, you'll calm down right now
and tell me what you're talking about, little sister."
     The "little sister" made me even angrier, but I was intimidated. Jenny
was now bigger than me, and with her friends, she could do even worse
things to me. I managed to calm down and tell her, "I'm talking about what
you made of me. I mean, it's bad enough I have to be a girl, but did you
have to try to turn me into a stupid slut as well?"
     "We didn't turn you into a stupid slut," she protested. "If you want
to be a slut, that's your business. As for the stupid part, you don't seem
stupid to me."
     "No, I'm not stupid," I admitted, "but it seems as if everyone
remembers me as a poor student. As for the slut part, I..."
     My voice trailed off. How was I going to explain this to Jenny? Was I
going to tell her that every time I looked at a guy, I was starting to
wonder what he had in his pants? Was I going to tell her that it was taking
all my willpower just to resist? Was I going to tell her that last night, I
had this dream in which I was being screwed by Andy... and loving every
minute of it? Was I going to tell her that on that very morning, I had
actually started stimulating myself in the shower?
     Jenny took advantage of my lapse. "Look, Meg, it's just possible that
the same sexual impulses that caused you to attack Allison are still in you
as Megan. You may have just as high a libido as you did as a male. If
that's the case, it serves you right. My only advice to you is that you'd
better use some protection. You're only fifteen and you know how our
parents feel about abortion."
     If we had both been male, I would have slugged Jenny for that. What am
I saying? If we were both male, we wouldn't have been having that
conversation at all. I suppose I could have slapped her, but that
particular impulse was too alien to me. Instead, my body took over. I burst
into tears. I was furious, but I was too impotent to do anything about
it. I fled from the room, trying without success to control the tidal wave
of tears that wracked my body. I threw myself on my bed, hating myself for
realizing I would probably get mascara all over my pillow.
     It was only a couple of minutes until I felt a hand on my
shoulder. "Meg?"
     It was Jenny. Part of me wanted to scream at her to get out of my room
and never come back, but her hand was comforting. "What?" I mumbled into my
pillow.
     "Look, I know this is hard for you," she began. "I'm not going to say
you don't deserve it, but I'm still willing to help you - for the sake of
what's left of our friendship. Besides, as far as everyone is concerned,
you're my sister."
     And I need help desperately. This being a girl has just been too much
for me. Sometimes, it seems almost normal. If I ignore the tickle of long
hair and the weight of the breasts and the mile-wide hips that cause me to
walk funny, it almost seems normal. But I can't ignore them often.  Then
there are the boys. I keep trying to avoid looking at them "that way," but
I can't. I've tried looking at girls as I did when I was Dan, but it
doesn't work. Sure, I still think they're cute, but that isn't enough to
set the sexual wheels in motion. Of course, I've got nothing to get hard
any more. Now a good-looking guy on the other hand... well, that's another
story.
     In short, I've become a ball of raging emotions. One moment, I'm
adjusting to this new identity - and new sex. Then the next minute, I feel
like killing myself rather than face girlhood for another second. I hope
none of my classmates have noticed, but I'm sure they have. Most of the
girls seem sympathetic enough - except of course for Jenny's little
group. As for most of the guys... well, I'm sure they just think it's
female problems. Yeah guys, it's female problems all right, but not the
kind you think.
     At its worst, I start really feeling sorry for myself. After all,
whatever caused me to attack Allison like that wasn't me, any more than Meg
Dawson is me. But according to Jenny - and I don't think she's lying about
this - even if I could convince her of my innocence, it wouldn't
matter. There's something about the magic that prevents them from turning
me back into Dan or any other male for that matter.
     So to net it out, I need help in a big way. Jenny's offer of help was
a lifesaver. Impulsively, I sat up and hugged her, still sobbing. If you
ever get a chance to read this, thanks, Jenny. I know right now as I write
this that I can't get through this without you.

     Saturday, 30 November, 1996
     Has it really been a little over a month since I've written anything
down? It's hard to believe. I guess it's because I've been very busy. Oh,
I've looked over at this little book dozens of times, but I always think
I'll write something later. Then later never comes. I think the only reason
I picked it up to write something today is that I'm home alone and my
teachers were good enough not to give us grossly long assignments over the
Thanksgiving weekend, so I'm not up to my eyeballs in schoolwork.
     Actually though, schoolwork has been my salvation, along with
Jenny. I've found when I throw myself into my studies, I forget about all
my other problems. I've developed quite a reputation as a good student. As
Dan, I made good grades my sophomore year, but I'm doing even better this
time around. History is my best subject, and even my worst critics (usually
catty girls) have decided the A's I'm getting from Mr. Mackenzie aren't the
result of giving him blow jobs after class - as if I would.
     Jenny has been even a bigger help than I would have imagined. The
animosity she showed toward me back when she helped change me is mostly
gone. She still won't discuss my professed innocence with me, nor am I
allowed to discuss her magical activities, but as long as we avoid those
subjects, we get along fine. I've never had a big sister before, but as
Dan, I had two older brothers. The relationship with Jenny seems even
closer than the one with my brothers. I'm starting to think men are
basically independent. They try to go it alone whenever they can. Oh sure,
they play team sports and cooperate with each other, but essentially, they
have to do it themselves. An example? Well, there's always the old jokes
about men never stopping for directions.
     Women, on the other hand, seem more inclined to work together. They
tell little secrets to each other and bare their souls at the drop of a
hat. Jenny started to confide in me, and somehow, that helped me to deal
with my newfound femininity. For example, when I had my first period, I was
in a dark, dark mood. My emotions seemed even worse than they were right
after my transformation, and the discomfort I felt that first day was
enough to confine me to my bed that evening. Jenny helped me along,
explaining what she went through with hers. She even helped me with my very
first tampon. I couldn't imagine one of my older brothers doing anything
for Dan which might be an equivalent. Of course, come to think of it, I
can't think of anything men do that is equivalent to that anyway.
     I don't really like to admit it, but having my first period was
something of a watershed for me. Before that incident, I still thought of
myself as Dan Korby, doomed forever to live in the prison of a woman's
body. Now, I'm not going to say that I wouldn't change back to Dan in a
heartbeat if I could. I would give a lot to be a guy again. But having a
period was virtually a confirmation of my new sex. Somewhere, I read