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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

something that is almost a clich^�. It involves a woman helping her

little girl through her first period by saying, "Today, dear, you are a

woman." It always sounded hokey until it happened to me. Now I understand

what that statement really means.

And speaking of being a woman, I've actually taken a few baby steps

toward dating. I know. When I look back at my last entry, it looks as if

I'm frightened to death of boys - or at least how I might come to view boys

as a girl. Well, in a way, nothing has changed and everything has changed.

With Jenny's help, I've managed to control some of my sexual

impulses. I've come to realize that the warm tingly feeling I get now when

I see a good looking guy is really no worse that the little hard-on I used

to get as a guy looking at a good looking girl. I can control it. If for no

other reason, I'll control it because I think some of Jenny's friends want

to see me lose it - especially Karen and Pam. They seem to hang together a

lot, and both still delight in teasing me about being a girl. I have to

admit, they still annoy me, too.

But as for dating, I've had a couple of dates. Well, actually, it's

been more than a couple. I've tried to make them very innocent dates,

though. What I mean is the kind of date where there are several couples in

a group, or going to a movie, preferably with another couple. It's easy to

avoid compromising situations with dates like those. I've also made it a

rule to think twice before dating anyone on the football team. After all,

thanks to clowns like Andy, I suspect many of the players might get the

wrong idea about me.

Of course rules are made to be broken. I do have one date coming up

with a football player, and I'm anxious to see how it goes. It's with my

brother - well, my former brother - Jake. He approached me just before

Thanksgiving, catching me completely by surprise. In the simple, direct

manner my brother had always operated, he leaned against the locker next to

mine as I was extracting books for my afternoon classes.

"Hey, Meg." He had that boyish grin I think he must have been born

with.

"Hey, Jake." I gave him a little smile. We had become casual friends

over the last month. I admit I cultivated the friendship, primarily so I

could keep up on the doings of my old family. Although the Dawsons were

nice and had treated me well, I missed my old family very much.

"You know, the Winter Formal is coming up in a couple of weeks..."

Uh-oh, I thought. Yes, I knew the Winter Formal was coming up. I fully

intended to avoid it. While I had pretty much gotten the hang of being a

girl day to day, I had avoided the fancy stuff. I seldom wore skirts to

school, and on Sundays, I got out of them as soon as church was

over. Actually, I wasn't all that unique. I noted a lot of girls spent

little time in skirts. In any case, I had no intention of getting a fancy

hairdo, a slinky dress, and strappy heels to be seen on the arm of some guy

at the Winter Formal.

That is until Jake asked me.

As time had gone by, I had tried to tell myself that Jake was no

longer my brother. He was now just a friend. Any genetics test would show

we weren't related, I was sure. But I had known Jake literally since the

day he had been born. As the last two brothers at home, he and I had gotten

very close. The thought of dating him, particularly going with him to

something as important as the Winter Formal... well, it just didn't seem

right.

On the other hand, I knew how Jake handled himself on dates. He had

always been a gentleman. I knew I would be safe with him. Also, I knew he

was a little shy around girls. I was sure he had no Plan B if I turned him

down. In fact, I realized much to my dismay, the last couple of weeks or

so, he had been hanging around me quite a bit. It had apparently taken him

this long to work up the courage to ask me. So how could I turn him down?

"...and I was wondering if you'd like to go with me."

There it was. He got it all out. Was there any excuse I could use to

avoid the date - any excuse that wouldn't devastate him? I couldn't think

of a one. I knew I'd hate every minute of the evening, but I needed to do

it for Jake.

"Uh... sure, Jake, I'd like that," I lied. It was worth it though to

see the happy, relieved look on his face.

Oops, that's all I have time to write about now. My Mom and Jenny are

calling me. They want to shop for dresses for Jenny and me for the Winter

Formal. I'm really not looking forward to this. I've found previous

excursions to the mall as a girl to be pretty tedious. And Jenny is

enjoying this entirely too much.

Sunday, 1 December, 1996

I've been a girl now for a little over a month, but I never really

realized what a pain in the butt it would really be until yesterday. I'm

referring, of course to shopping.

I know the stereotype is that all women love to shop and all men hate

it. I know for a fact from my previous family that that isn't always the

case. My former older brother, Allen, could spend all day in a mall and not

buy as much as a T-shirt. My real mother, on the other hand, was an

in-and-out shopper, deciding in advance exactly what she wanted and finding

it with the skill and precision of a combat team on a search and destroy

mission.

As Megan, I had developed a few friends, but I had the reputation of

being something of a loner. I had, however, accompanied some of the girls

in my class on a foray into Rio Del Diablo Mall a couple of weeks after my

transformation. Unfortunately, they were stereotypical, spending the entire

afternoon either trying on clothes and telling each other how cute they

looked or trolling for boys. I couldn't wait to get away. I had managed to

avoid the mall ever since. My new mother would just shake her head and

mutter that I was an "unnatural girl." If only she knew the truth.

But yesterday, there was no escape. Mom was determined to buy her

girls new dresses for the Winter Formal.

"I told her I had a perfectly good dress for the formal," I complained

to Jenny earlier. "There's nothing wrong with that Navy blue one of mine."

Jenny, sitting on my bed as I complained, frowned. "The one you wore

to church last week?"

I nodded.

She gave me one of her patented sighs. "Meg, you've still got a lot to

learn. This is a formal - not an afternoon tea. You need a new dress."

"You're just afraid if I find something to wear in my closet, Mom

won't let you get a new dress for the formal," I accused, but I did it with

a little smile. I had really come to think of Jenny as a sister, in spite

of her role in my transformation and sisters were for teasing.

"Maybe," she admitted. Then, with a wicked smile of her own, she

added, "But a girl can always use a new dress."

I honestly didn't see how. There were outfits in my closet I had never

worn yet. It seemed to me that girls always had ten times the clothes they

actually needed. Then I silently remembered the time about a week earlier

when I was practically in tears because I couldn't find a blouse to go with

the cute little vest that I had chosen to wear to school.

So there I was, with my new mother and new sister, trying on dresses

for the big night. Short and slinky seemed to be the order of the day, and

as I tried in vain to find something a little more demure, Jenny had made

it her devilish duty to find the skimpiest, sexiest dress Mom would

possibly allow - for me, that is.

"I don't know," Mom mumbled critically as I modeled a satiny little

blue dress. It had spaghetti straps that left my shoulders practically bare

and exposed a substantial amount of my growing cleavage. To make it worse,

I had worn the wrong kind of bra which would have shown under the dress. So

to make it look right, I was not even wearing a bra now. I felt as if it

had been painted over my ass and allowed to drip only a little way down my

leg. The clerk had loaned me a pair of heeled sandals to see how it would

look. I felt as if I was wearing nothing at all.

I guess I wasn't embarrassed enough, standing there in front of the

mirror, for who should wander by but Karen and Pam.

"Ooh, Meg, that looks fantastic on you!" Karen commented with mock

enthusiasm.

"Absolutely!" Pam chimed in. "I wish I had seen it first."

Jenny just sat there, stifling a laugh.

"I don't know..." Mom said. "It seems so... well, revealing."

"Oh, all the girls will be wearing stuff like this," Karen told her

with a syrupy smile. "This dress is way cool, Mrs. Dawson."

"Well... do you like it, Meg?" my mother finally asked.

If Karen and Pam had not come up when they did, I would have probably

said no. But I didn't want them to have any reason to stick around, and I

knew if I refused that dress, they would just spend the afternoon watching

me try on many more, steering me to even more revealing dresses.

"Yes... it's nice," I managed. "I want this one."

I had figured right. As far as Pam and Karen were concerned, the

entertainment was over. I hoped that I really spoiled their fun. Of

course, now I was stuck with a dress the size of a silk handkerchief. I

just hoped the night of the formal I could come up with enough courage to

wear it. Maybe I'd wear a coat over it all evening.

I thought that would be it, but my new mom was a shopper in the

classic sense. Once Jenny and I had picked out our dresses, the rest of the

afternoon was spent trying on shoes to go with it, picking out a new purse

too small to put much of anything in, matching necklaces, bracelets and

earrings, and setting up appointments for Jenny and me to have our hair

done the afternoon of the formal. I was glad Karen and Pam hadn't bothered

to follow us. They would have gotten a real charge out of watching me get

dragged from one feminine activity to another.

I have a feeling my new girlhood is going to get cranked up to a new

level next Friday. I'm not looking forward to it.

Saturday, 7 December, 1996

I got up early this morning to write all of this down while it's still

fresh in my mind. Yesterday was one of the strangest days of my life - old

or new. It started out normally enough, with school and all, but about the

time I had my hair done by a hairdresser for the very first time, my fear

level shot through the roof. I was actually going to have to wear that

little postage stamp of a dress I had selected. I was actually going to

have to perch on sandals with the highest heel I had ever worn and do it

with grace and balance. I was actually going to go out on a date with my

own brother - or rather my former brother. And if I had known then what the

night would bring, I would have been even more frightened.

It took me two hours to get ready - three if I included my time at the

hairdresser. She had taken my hair and coiffured it in such a way that it

swept up off my neck to the top of my head. It felt odd to feel no hair

down my neck and over my ears and shoulders for the first time since my

transformation. The weight of the hair was also odd, piled up as it

was. Still, I had to admit it looked very attractive, exposing my small

ears and framing my face in a sophisticated fashion. I was almost pleased

Mom had insisted I have my hair done after all.

Mom had also suggested a nice warm bath. Now, I've been a shower

person forever, and a change of sex wasn't enough to change that. But I do

admit, the bath was relaxing. As I lay back in the warm scented water, I

thought of how shocked Jake would be if he had any inkling that he was

about to have a date with his own brother. Of course, if I had told him, he

would have thought I was completely crazy. After all, he had never even

heard of Dan Korby. Nobody had - except me and Jenny's little group.

In some ways, I considered that more shocking than my

transformation. I mean, how could five girls playing at magic find a way to

reform not only my body but the reality around it? Jenny still refused to

talk about it, in spite of the fact that we had become closer as I began to

conform to my new identity. Still, whenever I would broach the subject, she

would deflect my questions or refuse to answer them outright.

I also wondered if the girls had changed my mental state as well as my

physical identity. They had certainly done so with the Swensons. I

actually saw them a couple of weeks ago. Jenny even pointed them out. Both

were dressed in very slutty outfits as they strolled down the street, and

both seemed perfectly comfortable being sluts. Surely there could be no

doubt that they were forced to act in that manner.

And yet I had noticed no great change in my own persona. Sure, I

accepted being a girl. What else could I do? And if I had stayed in my

room crying, Jenny's friends would have had a field day at my misery. Yet I

had been careful not to act too feminine. I had done as I had sworn to do,

throwing myself into my schoolwork until I was one of the top students in

my class. I didn't hang out at the mall with the other girls. I didn't gush

in front of handsome boys. I didn't spend endless hours in banal phone

conversations. I had even improved my performance in Phys Ed, becoming a

fairly accomplished volleyball player. I'm sure at least Karen and Pam are

disappointed. I single them out because Stacy and Stephanie have been

pretty decent to me lately, unlike Karen and Pam.

"Are you going to soak all night?" Jenny called out from behind the

door, breaking my reverie. "You know, I need to get ready, too."

"You are ready," I told her, pulling myself out of the tub

though. Jenny had started getting ready when she got home from school. She

had been dating Tad Delong, one of the brighter guys in her class. I

remembered Tad but hadn't known him well when I was Dan. He seemed like a

decent guy, but I knew Jenny saw him more as a friend than anything

else. Still, she had made herself absolutely gorgeous for him.

"I have to put a few finishing touches on my makeup," she

explained. "I'll help you with yours if you hurry."

"I know how to put on makeup," I protested, surprised to find I was

actually proud of that.

"Not for a formal."

I frowned, wrapping a towel around myself. "There's a difference?"

"Oh yes, little sister," Jenny laughed as she came in the room.

I studied her face and saw what she meant. Her makeup was much more

artful than usual. It remained subtle but seemed more dramatic. She looked

more mature - not older, just more mature. I wondered what the effect would

be on me.

I found out. Once I was in my panties and bra, Jenny worked on me. The

result practically took my breath away once I was completely

dressed. Standing there in front of the mirror in that short blue dress, I

thought I looked very little like the young girl who had tried it on less

than a week before. Then, the dress had looked all wrong. I had only gotten

it to quiet Pam and Karen, but I had been worried about how it would look

on me ever since. However, now it looked wonderful. I didn't appear to be

fifteen at all. Instead, I was a young woman, graceful and sophisticated,

standing there in my heeled sandals. My breasts were pert and a little

cleavage was showing. My legs literally shimmered in the sheer dark nylons

I wore. I was going to blow Jake away.

And I did, too. Jenny had already left when I got downstairs, but Mom

and Dad ambushed me from the den, telling me how wonderful I looked. Dad

was even preparing his camera to take pictures of me and Jake. I had to

smile. I was actually starting to think of them as my parents. Jake showed

up as my parents were admiring me, and I almost giggled when I saw his

mouth drop open. I think he thought he had asked an ugly duckling to the

formal and gotten a swan instead.

Well, that's not really true, I suppose. Jake and I had been friends

for weeks now. It's just that when we'd talk football or something, he'd

treat me like one of the guys. I had liked that about him. I hadn't wanted

a high school romance, and Jake didn't seem to want that either. We were

just friends, that's all.

When I started this passage, I said the evening was frightening. I

don't know why I said that, other than the fact that as the evening went

on, Jake changed from just a friend - and my former brother - to something

else. I found myself at first surprised and later pleased to have doors

opened for me and an arm around my waist when we walked. I began to enjoy

the opportunity to get out on the dance floor with him for the slower

numbers since it gave me the opportunity to be held in his arms. And when

he gently kissed me as we danced, I wanted him to do more - much more.

And he did. There, overlooking the river in the Buick I had myself

driven when I was male, Jake took me. I felt for the first time in my new

life the wonderful feeling of being entered by a man. He was gentle - more

gentle than I could have imagined, and I wanted him to do it again and

again.

Does this mean I'm falling for him?

Saturday, 14 December, 1996

I've been so busy this last week that I haven't had a chance to write

anything down, so I just read the entry I supposedly made in this book last

Saturday morning. As I did, a chill went down my back. It isn't what I

wrote last Saturday - not at all. I told a much different story that

morning. But it's changed; all of it has changed. I'd need to tell that

part of my story again, but the frightening thing is that I know it could

easily change again. Reality is much more malleable than I had ever

imagined.

Actually, part of the entry is true if I have to be completely honest

about it. I really have gotten used to this new form in ways I could never

imagine when I began this diary. I really was amazed at how good I turned

out for the formal, and I really did have a good time with Jake. And yes,

he did kiss me, but only at my front door at the end of the evening and he

most certainly did not make love to me.

I was having a great time with Jake. And no, I wasn't being a fragile

little flower with him. Okay, so he held the door open for me a couple of

times. That didn't mean I planned to marry him. And okay, dancing with him

was fun, but I wasn't exactly melting in his arms. Falling for him?

Screwing him in my former father's Buick? Give me a break. This is Jake

I'm talking about, okay?

What made the evening frightening was something that I never expected,

and it took me back to the time just before my transformation. It was

something that is certainly not included in that disturbing diary entry

that I obviously never wrote.

Jake and I were dancing. It was something slow and romantic, the kind

of stuff that's always played late in the evening at formals. A few couples

- particularly the ones like Vickie Peters and her date - had left,

presumably to find a little privacy to get more intimate. So we had no

trouble hearing the scream.

One moment, we were standing there in shock, unsure of what was

happening. The next moment, I was chasing after Jake, cursing the tight

dress and high heels I wore that allowed Jake to bolt so far ahead of

me. When I reached him, he was pulling someone up off the ground outside

the building. Although it was hard to see who it was with the small crowd

that was starting to build around him, it was obvious from the look on

Jake's face that he was shocked. Then, we all gave a collective gasp as we

saw Jake pull Ray Olson to his feet.

The screaming had turned to whimpering, and I made my way through the

crowd in time to help Stacy Palmer lift a crying Susan Iwata to her

feet. "I...I'm okay," she managed to gasp. "Look out for Des."

We didn't have to look far. Stacy's date had Desmond Young on his

feet. Des was rubbing his jaw and looking about for Susan. When he spotted

her, he stumbled into her arms and her crying began all over again.

"Wha... what's going on?" That was from Ray Olson. Ray looked

disheveled and confused. I gasped and turned away when I saw his limp penis

hanging out of his pants. I couldn't help but note to myself that it was

the first penis I had seen since my transformation. This entire incident

was bringing up some very unpleasant memories.

"He...he attacked us," Susan said, pointed in fear at Ray. "He said

something about whites shouldn't be dating Japs. Then he hit Des. I was

afraid he had killed him. Then, he threw me to the ground and started to

rip off my clothes." As evidence, she pointed to the torn shoulder strap of

her dress. The front of her dress had torn too, and it was all she could do

to hold Des and keep her breasts covered at the same time.

"You no good son of a bitch," Jake muttered. I wondered what he would

have thought if he had known that his own brother was in a similar mess

only a few weeks before.

"But, Jake, I didn't do anything," Ray managed to say. The look in his

eyes was one of fear and confusion. "At least I don't think I did..." he

added quietly.

I had known Ray for many years. We had been classmates. I had never

known him to be prejudiced in any way. This was a replay of what had

happened to me. True, the circumstances were a little different, but just

as I had attacked Allison with no memory of the event, Ray had apparently

hit Des and attempted to sexually assault Susan.

As I helped get Susan inside and away from prying eyes, I began to

realize the similarity had to be more than just a coincidence. I had

assumed since the incident I had been involved in that something had

snapped inside me. Maybe it was a tumor or some mental condition I could

only guess at. In any case, so many others had witnessed the event and

reinforced the horror of what I had done that I could only passively accept

the punishment that was meted out to me. At the time, as personally

degrading as I had found it to be turned into a fifteen year old girl, it

seemed to actually be better than the alternative of a trial, prison, and a

disgraced life.

Now I wasn't so sure. Something was going on that I had never imagined

before. Ray seemed as confused as I had been, and completely as unlikely to

do what to all reasonable evidence he had done. I looked around, hoping to

catch the reaction of Jenny and her friends. Except for Stacy who had

helped me with Susan, none of them were anywhere to be seen, but the look

on Stacy's face was one of shock and disgust. I didn't think she was a good

enough actress to fake her reaction.

Jake took me home. If there was ever a magic evening as described in

the altered entry preceding this one, it was lost in the horror of that

evening attack. Jake did hold me close as we walked to the car and again as

he walked me to my door. I think he thought I was frightened. Well, I

suppose I was, but I was also confused and angry. I was confused as to why

someone had done this terrible thing first to me and then to Ray. Someone

had caused us to do something terrible to innocent young women and caused

Ray to viciously attack Des. I was certain from what I had seen and what

Jake had told me Ray had said before the police arrived that Ray had no

idea what he had done - any more than I had. And I was angry - angry that

someone or something had hurt so many people.

Jenny and her friends were of course the prime suspects. If they had

the ability to transform men into women, couldn't they also cause Ray and

me to attack someone and then forget about it?

"You seem very thoughtful tonight," Jake commented as we stopped at my

door.

Of course I couldn't tell Jake about it but I wished I could. I needed

someone I could trust to help me figure out what was going on. "I'm sorry,"

I told him honestly, for if the truth be told, I had had a good time with

him before Ray's attack. Then I surprised myself by saying, "I'll make it

up to you."

"I'd like that," he said with a smile. Then, he leaned over and kissed

me. To my shock, I kissed back. It didn't feel queer as I had

feared. Instead it felt very natural. My new body began to react to his

touch, and it took all the restraint I could muster to gently push him

away. As I was sure he would, Jake just smiled and said goodnight.

As I just wrote this, I had an uncomfortable thought. The entry that I

didn't write - could that have really happened if Ray's attack on Des and

Susan hadn't occurred? Would I have really ended up making love to my

former brother? I didn't think so, but I really didn't know. Have I really

become that much of a girl? Oh God, I hope not.

Alone in my room, I tried to piece together what was going on. It had

started with the Swensons according to Jenny. They had committed a rape and

been changed into strippers for it. What was their connection to Ray or

me? Nothing I could think of. I didn't remember them, but of course, that

could be part of the magic. Ray and I had many connections though. When I

was a guy, he and I had played football together for years and we had been

friends. We had partied a bit together. He was with me when some of us went

across the border to TJ, and he and I had been two of the guys drinking at

the line shack right before the beginning of our senior year. Since my

transformation, we hadn't spoken much. Ray was a typical jock and I was

just the kid sister of one of his classmates.

But Ray didn't remember doing what he had obviously done that night,

just as I hadn't remembered what I had done to Allison. Up until now, I had

thought myself the victim of some physical or mental disorder. Jenny and

her friends had refused to listen to excuses and had transformed me into

the young girl I now was. I had accepted it and tried to make the best of

it. But what if there was another reason for my actions? What if I had

been compelled to do what I did to Allison just to give them an excuse to

unman me? What if they had done the same to Ray and the Swensons?

I just couldn't imagine Jenny being a part of some plot to unjustly

change guys into girls. It wasn't her style. For the most part, it wasn't

the style of any of her friends either, except maybe for Pam and Karen. Pam

had always had a vindictive streak, and Karen, although I didn't know her

well, seemed much like Pam. Stacy was a lot like Jenny and Stephanie pretty

much went with the flow. That meant Pam or Karen might be behind this.

But what exactly was it they were doing? Jenny called it magic. What

else could it be? Of course, a less complimentary term for what they were

performing was witchcraft, but I couldn't see Jenny getting involved in

demonic arts. She was just not the type to get involved with witchcraft.

She had come home later than me, so I stayed up to talk with her. She

didn't seem surprised to see me sitting on her bed in the dark, still in

the outfit I had worn to the formal. She sat down next to me without

turning on the light.

"Did you want to talk about something, Meg?" she asked me, playing the

big sister.

"I want to talk about Ray," I told her firmly.

"There's nothing to talk about then," Jenny said, standing up and

slipping off her dress. "The decision has already been made."

"Without a trial?" I asked. "You're going to do the same thing to him

you did to me, aren't you?"

"Meg, this is none of your business," she said sharply.

"Why?" I pressed. "Because I'm not really a girl? Because I'm as bad

as Ray or the Swenson twins?"

"Meg, quiet! You'll wake up Mom and Dad."

I lowered my voice. Waking them up wouldn't help matters. "Jenny,

what's going on? You know this isn't right."

"Ray is a bully, a bigot, and a would-be rapist," she said

firmly. "He's going to be punished and there's nothing you can do to stop

it."

I realized she was right, as hard as that was for me to accept - there

was nothing I could do. If I went to Jenny's little cabal, I might find my

life made very unpleasant. Jenny had already told me they could easily

change me into another girl. If I argued Ray's case before them... well, I

didn't even like to think about it. And who else could I tell? The police?

Yeah, I could just see them believing me. Excuse me officer, but I happen

to know that five high school girls are going to change a boy into a girl

tonight by magic. How do I know? Well just look at me. Ignore the fact that

there's a birth certificate that says I was born Megan Sue Dawson. I'm

really a boy you never heard of named Daniel Korby. Right. I'd be

cultivating fruit loops down at the funny farm for the rest of my days.

But there was another option. "I'll call Ray," I threatened. "Maybe I

can make him believe me."

"Meg, I went out on a limb for you because of our long-standing

friendship," Jenny explained, her eyes piercing me even in the

darkness. "You were supposed to be like the others - spreading your legs

for all comers. If you call Ray, I won't be able to stop the

others. They'll turn you into a cheap whore in Tijuana or even something

worse."

"They wouldn't!" I gasped, but I knew they would. Yes, Jenny had

treated me well. She had treated me as if I was her sister for real. If I

called Ray, my life as Megan would probably be over, and Jenny's friends

would make sure my next life wasn't nearly as comfortable.

Jenny put her arm around me. I had begun to tremble from fear, and I

was grateful for her embrace. I even felt tears trickling from my eyes and

fought to hold back a frightened sob. If I was still Dan, I might have

been more defiant. After all, I would have been a strong young man, able to

take on all comers. But I wasn't Dan anymore. I was Megan - a young girl

barely past childhood. I was small, weak, and unable to withstand the

forces arrayed against me.

"Meg honey, I'm sorry," she said in a soothing tone. "I know this

brings back some unpleasant memories for you. But there isn't anything you

can do. I don't want to lose you, and Ray has to take his punishment."

"But what if... if he's not really guilty?" I asked in a quavering

voice.

"There were a lot of witnesses," she reasoned. "They saw what they

saw."

"But Jenny, doesn't it seem odd to you that two boys would attack

girls in two months and both claim that they don't remember doing it?

Doesn't this smack of magic?"

Jenny was quiet for a moment. I think I struck a chord she herself was

starting to consider. "Look," she finally promised, "I don't know. I

suppose it's possible. Let me do what I can. I promise you I'll try to

delay the ceremony until we're sure one way or the other. But you mustn't

call Ray. Promise me you won't."

"But you'll try?" I asked meekly.

She nodded. "I'll try."

"Okay."

I made good on my promise, too. I tried to pretend it was just a

normal Saturday. I spent a little time with some of my new girlfriends from

class. Yes, we did a little mall crawl. At least it took my mind off

Ray. When I got home, Jake had called, inviting me to join some classmates

for pizza and a movie. It wasn't a date exactly, but on these group

excursions Jake and I seemed to spend more time talking to each other than

to anyone else. Then we sat together at the movie and I didn't object when

he casually dropped his hand over mine.

When I got home, Jenny wasn't there. It was nearly eleven, and I was

sure she was with the other girls now, deciding Ray's fate. There was

nothing I could do but anxiously wait. The hour between eleven and midnight

seemed to go on forever, but I knew anything that happened would happen at

midnight.

As the grandfather clock downstairs dutifully chimed twelve, I felt

something pass over me. It was almost like a wind, but how could there be

wind inside a closed house? If I hadn't been expecting it, I don't think I

would have even noticed it. They had done something, but what? Whatever it

was, I suspected Jenny had not been able to persuade them to change their

plans. But how would I know?

Then I remembered: back when I had started this diary, I had mentioned

Ray as being one of the guys drinking with me at the old line shack. I

pulled out this book and ran back to the first entries I had made. There it

was. I found the entry, but there was no mention of Ray! It was like the

entry I had found supposedly made after the formal - the one where I got

laid by Jake. It was in my handwriting, but it wasn't as I wrote it.

So reality had shifted again.

That meant there probably wasn't a Ray anymore. But I remembered him

in spite of the fact that his name no longer appeared in my diary. How

could that be? Was this a glitch in the magical mischief that had altered

my life? Of course, Jenny and her friends would remember Ray just as they

remembered me and the Swensons. But they were there when each of us was

transformed. Did that mean that once affected by magic, I had developed a

de facto immunity to its effects?

If that was the case, it meant that reality could shift around me but

I would remember what had really happened. I wondered if it applied to

transformations as well. If it did, being affected by magic was like having

chickenpox - once you had them, you were immune to them. If it were so,

then I couldn't be changed again - even into another girl no matter what

Jenny and her friends said. I couldn't depend upon that, though, because

there was another possibility. Because I was keeping this diary, I had

written down my thoughts and memories of events. As many people have told

me, if you want to remember something, write it down. Maybe the act of

writing can have an effect on the magical shift of reality. The words are

erased, but the memories of its author are too sharp to be eradicated.

Either way, there was a potential loophole in the magical fabric. I

began to wonder if it could be exploited before even more magical damage

was done, for I was certain that the trend would continue. Why couldn't

Jenny see it? Could it be that she and her friends were being influenced as

well without their knowledge? That made perfect sense. I had known all of

them but Karen since elementary school and it wasn't like them to be so

vindictive.

That brought me back to Karen again. What did I know about her?

Nothing really. She and her family had move to Rio Del Diablo over the

summer. I don't think as Danny I ever said more than a dozen words to

her. That being the case, why would she have something against me, or at

least enough to maneuver me into being transformed into a girl?

There were too many questions for me to answer, but I had to do

something or watch my friends be transformed into girls for crimes they

were not responsible for. But what could I do? I was just a fifteen year

old girl. No one would believe me. I wasn't even old enough to drive a car.

By Monday, though, I had formed a rudimentary plan. My first step was

to find allies. Jenny had slipped when she talked about others being

transformed. She may have just meant the Swensons, but I was beginning to

wonder if there were more former males as well - males whose very existence

I had forgotten since their transformations occurred before mine. If so, I

needed to find them. For now, though, I needed to keep my eyes open at

school. I suspected that there would be a new girl at school. As far as

most of my classmates were concerned, she would have been there all the

time, but I wouldn't know her. I just needed to keep looking for a new girl

who seemed out of sorts.

It took me until lunchtime to find her, but there she was, looking

lost and alone in the school cafeteria. She appeared to be a little older

than me - probably still a senior. Although several seniors, both boys and

girls, spoke to her, she had picked an isolated table where she was picking

at her food. She was Oriental, her almond-shaped eyes downcast and her

long, straight black hair carelessly combed. In spite of the way she

carried herself, her disheveled hair and her poorly done makeup, she was

very attractive. That seemed to bother her, too, as she slouched to make

her breasts less obvious. I sympathized with her. I had felt the same way

once.

"Hi," I said brightly as I placed my tray across from hers and sat

down. She only nodded in reply. "I'm Meg Dawson," I said brightly. Gee, I

was getting good at this. "And you are...?"

"Sherry Takayoshi," she replied uncertainly in a low quavering voice.

"I think we have a mutual friend," I ventured. "Do you know a Ray

Olson?"

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "Who are you? One of them?"

I knew who she meant by "them" and I shook my head. "No, but let me

tell you a story."

As I suspected, Ray - Sherry now - had no memories of Dan Korby. Even

when I reminded her about our little summer party out at the line shack,

she could only shake her head. She remembered a couple of other guys being

there but no Dan Korby. As far as she knew, Dan Korby never existed.

Then she told me her story. It wasn't much different from mine. With

one little exception.

"What do you do about the urges?" she asked.

I looked at her, confused. "What urges?"

"Well," she said, her face reddening, "the urges with guys. I mean,

every time I'm around one, I have to fight off the urge to... to... make

love to him." Her eyes closed, squeezing tears. "I don't know how much

longer I can stand it. I'm so horny... And I can't seem to satisfy myself."

I was actually horrified. Sure, guys were starting to look very

attractive to me. I just assumed it was the natural flow of female hormones

in my body. I mean, as attractive as they were starting to look, I hadn't

noticed any urges other than those I suspected every fifteen year old girl

experienced. As for self gratification, sure, I had played with myself a

little. Again, I suspected many girls did. But what Sherry was talking

about seemed far more extreme.

I suspected this was what some of the other girls - particularly Pam

and Karen - had in mind for me. They wanted me to be a horny little

slut. Come to think of it, much of their teasing and cajoling had been as

much to start me thinking in that direction as it had been to embarrass me.

I suspected I once again had Jenny to thank. Right after my

transformation, I had thought Jenny hadn't exactly done me any favors. Now,

I realized she had. Our long friendship must have really made her feel I

deserved a milder punishment. Maybe she had dampened my sexual urges to a

normal level - either consciously or unconsciously - during my

transformation. Or maybe just by becoming her younger sister, she had been

able to guide me as a role model. Poor Sherry had no one to help her. Now

two years older than me, she was an uncontrolled collection of female

emotions and urges which if left unchecked would turn her into the little

slut her tormentors had intended her to be.

"Sherry," I began softly, "it doesn't have to be that way."

"What? Are you trying to tell me you're a virgin?" She said the word

"virgin" as if it were some sort of disease.

I actually felt myself blush. What was wrong with being a virgin. I

mean, I didn't plan to be one forever. I was a girl for life, and unless I

wanted to join a religious order, I knew I wouldn't be celibate

forever. But I wasn't about to let some guy pop my cherry just yet. That

would make Pam and Karen all too happy.

"Sherry, think about it for a minute," I said, starting over. "They

changed us into girls, but what if that wasn't enough for them - or at

least for some of them? What if they want us to be brainless sluts?

Wouldn't that be the ultimate pimp on us?"

"So how am I supposed to fight these urges?" she demanded.

"I don't know," I admitted honestly. "I'm still pretty new at this

myself. But I think the best way is to find somebody where it's more than

just the sex."

Now it was her turn to be horrified. "Are you telling me you really

like guys? I mean, with me, it's like an itch I need to scratch, but you're

talking about really getting into guys - about love."

I thought about it for a moment. "Yes, I suppose I am. Look Sherry, I

used to be male just like you were and I never for a moment was attracted

to another guy when I was one, but this is who we are now - girls. We're

supposed to be attracted to guys. What's wrong with loving one?"

The funny thing is that before I said it, I had never thought much

about it. Loving a guy? The thought would have made me sick right after I

was transformed, just as it was affecting Sherry. Now though, it seemed

pretty natural. All I had to do was find the right guy. Jake? Maybe. Maybe

not. As Alicia Silverstone says in Clueless, I'm only fifteen and this

isn't Kentucky.

Now it was Sherry's turn to think. Ray had always had a sharp mind,

and I suspected that as Sherry, she had lost none of that. Apparently our

tormentors had thought it unnecessary to dumb us down, expecting the sexual

urges to be enough to keep our focus away from other things. "Look over

your shoulder," she said unexpectedly.

I did. Jenny was sitting with her friends at a round table not far

away. I couldn't see Stephanie's face, but Stacy and Jenny seemed normal

enough. It was Pam and Karen who were looking right at us, hatred in their

eyes. Of course. They didn't want me to talk to Sherry. They wanted her to

feel alone, subject to the sexual urges they had given her. I was ruining

their fun.

"Do you think they can do anything else to us?" Sherry asked, worry in

her newly feminine voice. "I mean, can they make us think like sluts?"

"I don't know," is what I told her, but I was thinking that they

probably could. I shuddered. Jenny had protected me from being degraded,

but if I started interfering with their plans for Sherry, I might be in

danger.

Just in case, Sherry and I decided to break off and call each other

later. As I started off for my afternoon classes, I realized I had serious

choices to make. I could lead my life as Meg while trying to stay out of

the way of Jenny's friends or I could try to help Sherry and run the risk

of crossing them. Either way, I had no guarantees that they wouldn't

interfere with me. I wasn't worried about Jenny. She had become truly the

sister I had never had. But she was only one vote out of five as nearly as

I could tell.

What I couldn't understand was why they had done what they had done to

Ray and me. What had we ever done to them? They weren't man-haters. All of

them dated and seem to enjoy normal relations with guys. We needed more

information. I could only think of one other source - the Swenson

twins. Was there a connection between Ray - now Sherry - and me and the

Swenson twins? They would know more about that than I.

Before I could plan further, I ran into someone as I walked around a

corner deep in thought. I nearly fell, rescued by a strong arm at the last

minute. To my surprise, it was Jake.

"Oh, sorry," Jake said, letting go of my waist when I had regained my

balance. "Hey look, I've been meaning to talk to you about Friday. I mean,

it was great and all but maybe we're moving too fast."

What in blazes was he talking about? All we had done Friday was an

innocent little goodnight kiss. All I could do was say, "Oh?"

He nodded his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I mean it was like I said -

great. But maybe we should slow down. I mean, I'm not ready to commit just

yet and..."

"Jake, what the hell are you talking about?" I finally blurted.

He looked surprised now. "Well, about Friday. I mean, you know."

"I'm not sure what you mean," I told him, "but for what it's worth,

there's no commitment to talk about. It was just a date, okay?"

"Uh...do you mean it?"

I sighed, "Of course I mean it."

"I mean, I really like you a lot, Meg, or it wouldn't have happened,

but I..."

"I know - you just aren't ready to commit."

He nodded, smiled and walked away ending one of the strangest

conversations I had ever had. What was he talking about? He acted as if he

had mistakenly given me an engagement ring. Hadn't Jake ever kissed a girl

before? I shook my head and went to class.

I stopped suddenly. Oh shit! Jake remembered things the way my diary

read. He thought we had... Oh shit!

Sherry called me right after dinner. I told her my plan about seeing

the Swensons - if we could just figure out how to get there.

"I can get the car for a while," she offered.

I practically kicked myself. I had forgotten that although I had been

transformed into a girl too young to drive, Sherry was seventeen. Of

course, we could drive over to Girlville. It all sounded so

simple. However, by the time we got there, I realized there were

complications. Girlville was on the edge of town, but it was a rough

edge. As Ray and Dan, I'm sure we would have been able to handle anything

that came our way, but Sherry and Megan were the subject of attention from

a very seedy element.

"You girls part of the act?" one grimy man in a T-shirt and jeans

asked us as we approached the stage door of Girlville.

"The white girl looks a tad young," his similarly dressed friend

commented.

"Yeah, but the little Chink looks nice," the first one replied,

causing us to hasten our pace.

Relieved to see that they hadn't followed us, we ducked in the stage

door. I expected to be stopped by the big man standing there whose obvious

purpose was to make sure nobody bothered the girls. We might as well have

been invisible, though, for he ignored us completely. Of course, I

realized. He was there to keep men from bothering the girls. And sadly, we

weren't men.

The Swenson brothers were now Lila and Twyla, the Busti Twins, or so

the sign outside had declared. They were enjoying a smoke in their dressing

room between acts. Both were minimally dressed with just a flimsy robe

covering their voluptuous bodies, and from the smell of the smoke, I knew

their cigarettes weren't exactly legal.

"Jeez, will you look at that," one of them said, brushing her long

blonde hair back when she saw us. "You two girls are kinda young for this

line of work, aren't you?"

Then they both chuckled while Sherry and I felt our faces flush.

"So okay," the other one said when she finished chuckling. "Now that

Lila's had her little joke, what are you two kids doing here?"

I took the lead, telling them bluntly, "We know who you are - or who

you were."

Their looks of amusement turned unexpectedly to anger. Twyla growled,

"So who are you - two more of those little bitch witches here to laugh at

us? It isn't gonna do you any good."

"Yeah," Lila chimed in. "So you changed us into women. We're more

women than you little girls will ever be, so fuck you!"

"Wait!" I pleaded. "You don't understand. We're like you. They changed

us, too."

At that, their expressions softened. "So now they're turning guys into

little girls," Lila murmured angrily.

"And there's no stopping them. They just changed her last weekend," I

said with a nod at Sherry. "We want to stop them before they do more harm."

"Good luck," Twyla replied, crossing her long sexy legs. "Don't count

on us for help. It was bad enough to get used to being a stripper."

"Yeah," Lila agreed. "I thought I was gonna puke when I had to do my

first lap dance."

"You two got lucky," Twyla went on. "It looks like you got to be

normal high school girls - not strippers like us. Just go on home and find

some nice guy and get him to marry you before he screws your brains out. We

can't help you."

"But don't you want to get back at them for wrongfully accusing you of

rape?" I asked, becoming frustrated with the twins.

"Wrongfully accused!" Twyla laughed. "Oh sweetheart, are you naive!

Wrongfully accused? That little bit of sweet meat was just too good to pass

up, but she thought she was better than us. We showed her, though."

"Yeah," Lila agreed with a marijuana-induced chuckle.

I stepped back from them. "Then... then you really did rape her?"

"Right, cutie," Twyla grinned. "Of course if she knew what we know

now, maybe she would have just settled back and enjoyed it. That's what

Lila and I do now. We just lie back and let the guys have their

fun. That's probably what that other one does, too, or she'd be with you."

"Other one?" I stopped. Hadn't Jenny said something about others? If

the Swensons wouldn't help us maybe another tranformee would. "What other

one?"

She shrugged. "I don't remember his name. I just remember hearing

about some high school guy at the first of the school year. He claimed he

didn't remember attacking the girl. Then, it was like he never existed. We

just figured the little witches got him like they got us."

Sherry and I thanked them and left quickly.

"So who else has been transformed?" Sherry asked when we were safely

back in her car.

That was the question I had been asking myself all the way back to the

car. Of course, I wouldn't recognize the male name of the person Twyla had

been talking about. After all, he had been changed into a girl well before

me. But I was pretty sure I knew what her female name was. "Let's go over

to Vickie Peters' house," I told her.

Vickie was a little surprised to see us. Like many girls who were

promiscuous, Vickie didn't have many girl friends, and Sherry and I were

certainly not among the friends she did have. As usual, she was made up to

the hilt and dressed in a short skirt and tight blouse practically making

Sherry and I look like boys in our jeans and sweatshirts. Or maybe I should

say like the boys we wished we were.

"We need to talk to you in private, Vickie," I told her without any

preamble.

Vickie took us back to her room. It reminded me of my own room -

feminine and neat. But unlike my room, there were posters of men on the

wall, all looking virile and ready for action. No wonder she had gone

after most of the guys in the senior class. If I had looked at those

pictures every day, I might have had more trouble staying a virgin than I

was already having.

"So what's this all about?" Vickie asked when we had all found a place

to sit.

"We know who you really were," I told her. "Or rather what you were."

She gasped, "How could you know that?"

"Because it happened to us, too," Sherry said. "Don't you remember

us?"

It took Vickie a moment, but then she said slowly, "Dan? Ray? It is

you, isn't it?"

"I'm Dan," I replied with a nod. "Or at least I used to be."

"And I was Ray," Sherry told her.

"I was sure that's who you were," Vickie said in wonder, "but I was

afraid to talk to you. I didn't know what they would do to us if they saw

us together."

It wasn't just paranoia. I had noticed Pam and Karen staring at Sherry

and me earlier. Of course they didn't want us to be together. They wanted

us alone and unprotected, anxious to shack up with the first guy who smiled

in our direction.

"So who were you?" I asked Vickie.

"Oh Dan - I mean Meg - I was Steve Barney," she said, practically in

tears. "I was your best friend."

I'm sure my mouth fell open. I had never heard of Steve Barney.

It took her a while to tell her story because she had to stop every

now and then to cry. Sherry and I both realized how lucky we had

been. Jenny had taken me under her wing and I had taken Sherry under

mine. Even the Swensons had had each other. But Steve - Vickie now - had

been all alone.

"They said I nearly raped Rebecca Verdon," she told us. "I guess I

did, but I swear I don't remember it at all. One minute we were just

walking together over at River Park and the next minute some man was

pulling me away from her. She was screaming." Vickie shuddered. "I'll never

forget that scream for as long as I live."

She had found herself transformed just as Sherry and I had been

changed. Only in her case, she was now the only child of a very uninvolved

couple. They scarcely acknowledged her existence. As for her former

friends, we all remembered her as slutty Vickie Peters. Alone and confused,

she quickly fell prey to her heightened sexual instincts. I was chagrined

to realize that I had participated in her torment since as Dan, I had

screwed Vickie.

She must have realized what I was thinking. "Meg, look, don't worry. I

really don't regret making love to you or any of the other guys. I've had a

little more time to get used to this and frankly, I wouldn't go back to

being male if I could."

"Do you mean that?" I asked, surprised that she was taking her

transformation so well.

She nodded. "I really do. You see I've started dating Bill Wisdom for

the last few weeks and he really likes me. I really like him. I think he

really cares for me, so it's not so bad after all." She looked down,

unable to meet our eyes. "I... I think Bill's going to ask me to marry him

before he starts college. I'm going to accept. I... I really love him."

Then she blushed.

Bill Wisdom was the center on our football team. He was really a big

guy but always a nice guy, too. We used to call him the Gentle Giant. There

was no doubt that he would someday have a future in professional

football. If Vickie had settled down with him she'd be all right. I felt

happy for her.

"Okay," I said, giving my blessing to Vickie in a word. "But we can't

let those girls keep doing this. They're destroying lives."

"Yes," Sherry agreed slowly, "but I don't think all of them realize

it."

Vickie and I looked at her strangely.

"Look," she began to explain, "we've known each of those girls for a

long time. Meg, Jenny is your sister now. Can you see her masterminding

some weird plot to turn a bunch of boys into girls?"

"No," I admitted quickly. "If anything, I think she's starting to get

concerned about what's happening as well."

"And what about the others?" Sherry asked. "Could any of them be

behind this?"

"It wouldn't be Stacy," Vickie stated. "She was my girlfriend before I

was changed. I know her too well."

"She was your girlfriend and she helped change you into a girl?"

Sherry blurted.

"Well," Vickie said softly, "consider what she thought I did. She

thought I blew off a date with her and went out and raped a friend of

hers."

"And Jenny was one of my best friends," I pointed out, "and she helped

do this to me."

There had to be some sort of connection we all shared, I

realized. Vickie - or rather Steve - had been close to Stacy, and I had

been a good friend of Jenny, but Ray hadn't been close to any of the

girls. He hadn't had as much as a single date with any of them, so that

wasn't the connection.

"I dated a couple of their friends," Sherry admitted, "but I didn't

know any of the girls who did this to us very well."

"So maybe it wasn't something we did to them," I allowed, "but there

must be a connection we all share."

"We all played football," Vickie suggested.

"And we did a lot of things together," Sherry added.

Then it came to me. Yes, the three of us had been good friends and

done many things together, and there was no common connection to any of the

girls. But we had all been transformed at the old line shack, and there was

something we had all done there together. "The party at the line shack!" I

exclaimed. Vickie and Sherry looked at me, puzzled. "Look, when were you

transformed, Vickie?"

"Just before the school year started," she replied, still confused.

"Just a couple of weeks after we had the party at the line shack," I

pointed out.

"Okay," Vickie said, "that explains the three of us, but the Swensons

got transformed according to you as well. They weren't at the party. Or at

least I don't think they were. God! How can we know what was real then?

Maybe they were friends of ours, too."

"I get the idea we didn't know the Swensons," I told her. Besides,

they really did rape someone. I think they were just the catalyst."

Sherry frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

I explained, "Let's say someone wanted to get back at the three of us

for something, but she wasn't sure how to do it. I mean, she could work

magic, but she couldn't do it alone. So first, she'd look for something

that would make the people she needed to help her angry enough to buy into

her magic act."

"Something like a rape," Vickie offered.

I nodded. "That's right. I think we all have found out from personal

experience that women abhor a rapist more than anyone else in the world. So

when the Swensons were accused of rape, she saw her opportunity. Then, she

framed us for the same thing with the same result."

"Okay," Sherry agreed. "But wouldn't she have already known that rape

was the answer?"

"What do you mean?"

Sherry sighed. "Well, if one of the girls was looking for an issue to

unite the other girls she needed, she'd already know that rape should be

the issue."

I felt a little deflated. She was right. If the Swenson affair was

required to trigger the type of response she needed, it would mean that she

didn't consider rape such a big issue. What kind of girl would need to be

shown that other girls hated rape so much?

"I still think the party we had at the line shack had something to do

with this," I insisted stubbornly. "And I think it took the rape the

Swensons did to start this whole thing off. Vickie, you're the only one of

us who remembers all of us being at the party. Tell us about that night."

Vickie complied, reciting every detail she could think of. It had been

a pretty good sized party. Since it was bring your own, guys kept shuffling

in and out all evening. Steve, Ray and I had gone out together. Then, we

had started drinking beer with several other guys. It was a typical high

school beer party. The old line shack was a perfect place to hold it. A

relic of early ranching days in the valley, it was off the main highway on

an old dirt service road. No one had used the shack for generations. There

were trees all around it so our activities were screened from prying eyes.

"So how many of the guys were out there?" I asked.

Vickie shrugged. "Maybe thirty or so. I don't remember exactly since

guys were coming and going all evening."

"You don't think everyone at that party is at risk, do you?" Sherry

asked.

Before I could answer, Vickie said, "Wait a minute. I remember one

time when there were just four of us together. It was the three of us and

Charlie Dugan. We went out in the woods to take a piss. That's when I found

that necklace."

"What necklace?" Sherry and I asked in unison.

Vickie looked at us, puzzled. "Oh, that's right. You wouldn't

remember, would you? I guess you forgot because I was the one who found it

and you don't remember Steve. We had just taken a piss not too far from the

shack when I spotted something silver in the moonlight. It was at the base

of a tree that had died and been uprooted. That's probably why nobody

noticed it before." She gave a little laugh. "You two and Charlie wouldn't

touch it. You were afraid it was just where we had pissed, but I dug it out

anyway. It was a small silver cross."

"I thought you said it was a necklace," I interjected.

"There was a necklace, too," she clarified. "It was buried right under

the cross. It wasn't much to look at. It was just a piece of stone attached

to a strand of rawhide. The rawhide was in pretty poor shape."

Magic artifacts? The idea would have seemed pretty far out if I

weren't encased in the body of a fifteen year old girl. Had pissing on the

artifact triggered some magic reaction? Maybe, but that didn't explain the

Swensons. Was it the stone or was it the cross? Had we pissed on a cross

and angered God? I couldn't remember anything in Christian stories about

transformations of that sort.

"Vickie, what did you do with the artifacts?"

"I've still got the cross around here some place. It looked like it

was silver so I thought it might be worth something."

"Then it probably isn't with you any more," Sherry said. "When you

changed into Vickie, the cross had never belonged to her."

Vickie looked a little crestfallen. "That's right. I hadn't thought of

that."

"But what about the necklace?" I asked.

"Oh, I gave that to Stacy. I thought she might like it. It looked

liked it was carved by Indians."

"That may be the answer. Maybe the necklace or whatever it is gives

the wearer magical powers. If Stacy has it, why don't we just get it back

from her?" Sherry wanted to know.

Vickie shook her head. "She told me she gave it to a friend. The

friend was going to try to figure out what the amulet was. My guess is that

it went to one of the other four girls in the coven - if that's what it

is."

"Vickie, what did it look like?" I asked, my heart pounding. It had to

be the necklace. I didn't know enough about Indian myths to say for

certain, but it seemed to me that I had read somewhere that their magic

included transformations - at least into animals.

Vickie quickly sketched out what she remembered of the necklace. It

was small, made of white stone which had been shaped to form a crude

circle. Five jagged lines looking like crude lightning bolts radiated out

from the center to the edges. It wasn't exactly high art; it looked almost

like something a child would do.

"Do you really think something as crude as that could have the sort of

power we're talking about?" Sherry asked skeptically.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I know someone who might."

I had to wait until school the next day to find out. I had become one

of Mr. Mackenzie's best students, so he wasn't surprised to see me waiting

after class to see him. "What can I do for you today, Megan?" he asked with

an indulgent smile.

I pulled the sheet Vickie had drawn out of my purse. "Have you ever

seen anything like this before?"

He looked at it carefully. "It looks Indian," he confirmed, very

interested in the drawing. "I haven't seen anything quite like it. Why do

you ask?"

"A friend of mine found this drawn on a stone not far from town," I

told him.

I was rewarded with a little gasp. Mr. Mackenzie looked at the drawing

with new interest. It was no secret around the school that he was writing

a book on the native Indian tribes of Southern California and Northern

Mexico. "Near town you say?"

I nodded.

"I'll look into this at once," he told me.

He meant what he said. I was just getting ready to go to lunch when

Mr. Mackenzie called out to me in the hall, "Megan, can I see you for a

moment?"

As I followed him into his empty classroom, I saw he was very

excited. "I must know where your friend found this," he began at

once. "Look at this."

There was a large thick book open on his desk. I couldn't see the

title, but I could see a drawing in the book that looked very similar to

the one Vickie had made.

"Megan, what do you know about Indian myths?"

"Nothing really," I had to admit.

"I'm not surprised," he sighed. "So few were ever written down. The

oral tradition of Indian myths has made it so difficult to study them. Many

have undoubtedly been lost through the centuries. Megan, have you ever

heard of the Yaqui people?"

I smiled. "Yes, I remember you telling us about them. Weren't they a

tribe of Indians in the Southwest?"

He nodded as he looked up at me with a smile of his own. "You deserve

the A you're making now in my class. The Yaqui are indeed a tribe that

ranged from through Arizona and Northern Mexico. While they are best known

in those regions, they did range this far west upon occasion. In some

ways, their religion was like our own. They believed in the cosmic battle

of good and evil and many of their concepts can be expressed in terms most

Christians would find familiar."

"What kind of terms?" I asked, becoming fascinated with the topic.

"Well, they believed in something called Morea - witchcraft we would

call it. And anyone who practiced Morea was known as a Morea-kame - or

witch. Like Christianity, magic was uniformly a tool of evil when practiced

by a Morea-kame. The witch could kill with a stare or transform him or

herself into an animal with a thought."

Now he really had my interest. "Could they transform others?"

"It's not documented, but I wouldn't be surprised," he

replied. "Apparently items like the one your friend found were often used

to focus the magic. Also, groups of Morea-kames formed what might be called

covens - presumably of five witches indicated by the five lines on the

amulet. Megan, this is a significant find. The picture in the book is only

a drawing made from a description of a person of Yaqui descent. No one in

recent history had ever actually seen one of them."

No, I wasn't surprised about that. The amulet was obviously dangerous

and powerful. Maybe there had only been one in existence. It was just bad

luck that we had been the ones to find it.

"This may confirm the reason for our town's name," Mr. Mackenzie

speculated.

"Huh?" I said. "In middle school we learned that the town's name came

from the fact that the river was so unpredictable and devilish."

"It's the common story," Mr. Mackenzie admitted. "But while

researching for my book, I came across a curious story. When this area was

still Spanish, there was a practicing witch in the region. She was quite

possibly a Morea-kame. She apparently formed a coven and fled San Diego.

According to the records I found, a local priest formed a posse of locals

and tracked her and her coven down. They had been holed up along the river

somewhere. The records are a little unclear, but apparently they found her

and her followers and hanged them along the river. Since the witches were

said to be in league with the devil, I believe it was then that the name of

the river became Rio Del Diablo. I have no proof yet, but it makes as much

sense as anything."

He was right about that, I thought as I left his office. It was all

starting to make sense to me now. I grabbed a quick lunch in the cafeteria

and sat in a quiet corner where Vickie and Sherry were waiting for me,

their lunches already eaten.

"Where were you?" Sherry asked, partially upset and partially

concerned.

"This may not be a good idea," Vickie mentioned, nodding at Pam and

Karen who were glowering at the three of us from a distant table. "I don't

think they like seeing us together."

"I was with Mr. Mackenzie," I told them, sitting down and stuffing a

bite of salad into my mouth. "He researched the amulet for me. I think I

know what's going on."

"Tell us!" Vickie and Sherry demanded together.

It was tough to eat and talk, but I managed. "The night of the party

at the line shack - we all took a piss by the amulet. I think we may have

pissed on it, offending whatever demon it summons." Vickie and Sherry sat

speechless, their mouths open. I sighed, "I guess I need to explain a few

things to you. Have you ever heard of the Yaqui...?"

I explained quickly what Mr. Mackenzie told me. I was careful to

explain it just as he had explained it to me.

"...so I think the demon decided to take out revenge on us. The

problem was that it didn't know how to do it. You, Vickie, had given the

amulet to Stacy, so it could only tap into her thoughts and emotions. He

had no knowledge of our culture or what a fitting punishment for us would

be. So it was patient. It waited until it could understand us better. Then,

the Swensons committed a rape. It was one of the worst things any girl can

imagine. It would be just the thing it needed to nudge Stacy and the other

girls into taking magical action."

"Wait a minute," Vickie interrupted. "You're telling me that Stacy and

the other girls decided to get the devil to help them punish the Swensons?

I don't think they'd risk their souls for that."

"We're not talking about the devil as we understand him," I pointed

out. "My guess is that it's never communicated directly with them in those

terms. Maybe it just gave Stacy the idea that it would be neat if the stone

was really a magic amulet that could punish rapists. Maybe it told them it

was a magic genie. I don't know how the demon did it, but I know it

influenced them somehow. The punishment they came up with was as fitting as

they could imagine. The Swensons would never rape a girl again - because

they'd be girls!"

"So then the girls staged our crimes just so they could change us?"

Sherry asked.

"No, not the girls," I replied with a shake of my head. "It was the

demon. Once they started exercising the powers of the demon, it became

stronger. It made us do the things we did - then helped the girls punish us

for them."

"Then maybe it was lying when it made the girls believe that we

couldn't be changed back into males," Sherry said brightly. "Maybe we can

get changed back."

Vickie actually looked a little uncomfortable at that thought. There

was no doubt she had come to like being a girl. I doubted if she would ever

want to change back. Sherry hadn't been a girl very long, and I knew that

given the chance to be Ray again, she'd jump at it. But how about me? I had

been a girl for only a few weeks, but somehow it had already begun to seem

if not natural at least tolerable. I had pretty much reconciled myself to

makeup, heels and periods for the rest of my life. But I realized that even

if we could be changed back, there was another problem.

"Sherry," I began slowly, "I don't think changing back would be a very

good idea."

Sherry gave me a puzzled look. "Why not?"

"I think the demon can only use so much magic at a time. Notice it's

taken the demon several weeks to get back at us, and it still has to get to

Charlie. To change all of us back might take months. That would give it

plenty of time to thwart us, even if we were able to figure out a way to

force it to change us back. We might even be drawn into its influence

ourselves, just like Jenny and her friends."

"So we're stuck as girls," Sherry said glumly.

"Hey, it's not so bad," Vickie told her, patting her hand. "I mean,

when I got changed, I felt the same way I'm sure you do now. But once you

get used to it, it's actually fun." Then she arched her eyebrows and

wiggled them. "And let me tell you, the sex is the best!"

Sherry blushed, and I even felt my own face becoming a little warm as

well.

Vickie had had her fun. Looking at me, she asked, "So what do we do

now, coach?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Jenny had told me that it was

impossible to change me back into a male. I didn't know if she was right

about that, but I supposed it really didn't matter. Even if the demon or

whatever it was could change any of us back into males, I doubted if it

would. We had pissed on its totem and it would never forgive us.

Maybe if we did nothing, the demon would leave us alone. But I really

didn't think so. I was sure the vindictiveness displayed by Karen and Pam

had been amplified by the malevolent spirit, but it was there nonetheless.

They would be the eyes and ears of the demon, and it had no desire to see

any of its victims lead happy, healthy lives. Vickie had managed to finally

control her sexual impulses - or at least focus them on one guy. Jenny was

around to protect me for now, and I had been able to keep Sherry from

giving in to her impulses, but that wouldn't always be

possible. Eventually, the demon would figure out a way to ruin our female

lives as surely as it had ruined our males ones. If it had had any inkling

that Jenny would have really come to accept me as her kid sister, I'm sure

the demon would have demanded I be changed into someone else - someone

whose sexual needs could be better exploited.

And there was the further damage the demon could do. Charley would be

the next victim. Of that I was certain. But what then? I was sure it

wouldn't stop there. How many lives would the little bastard ruin before it

was stopped? And what was happening to the girls it was using? I had always

been Jenny's friend, and now I was her sister. I didn't want to see her

hurt. Was her soul in jeopardy from using the magic? Perhaps. Worse yet,

she and her friends thought they were doing something good. They thought

they were protecting our town from sex fiends and rapists. How could they

know that they were part of the problem - not part of the solution?

In the time remaining in our lunch hour, I explained all of this to

Vickie and Sherry and was pleased when they agreed with my reasoning. We

didn't need to move too quickly. The demon seemed to wait several weeks in

between each transformation. We didn't know if this was due to limits in

its power or if it merely realized that a sensational attempted rape each

week might raise suspicions among the girls whose help it depended upon. We

agreed to meet over the weekend and discuss it. That meeting will take

place tomorrow.

That's all the time I have to write now. I'm going out with Jake in

about an hour and I need to get ready.

Sunday, 15 December, 1996

I don't have much time to write now, so I'll make this quick. I just

met with Vickie and Sherry. We decided we needed to do nothing for the

moment, but we needed to keep a close watch on Charlie. He'll be the next

victim; we're sure of that. But we don't think anything will happen for a

while. Sherry actually talked to Charlie, and he told her he was going with

his family to San Francisco for Christmas to see his grandparents. That

means the demon won't have a shot at him until school starts again after

the first of the year.

I was actually relieved to hear that. There was just too much going on

in my life to act like that movie heroine, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Finals

were coming up and I still had all my Christmas shopping to do. I had to go

out with Jenny to get family presents. Then I needed to get something nice

for Jenny. And of course, there was Jake...

I'm almost embarrassed to write this down, but I think I'm falling for

Jake. I mean, how can I be attracted to my younger brother? It seems like

incest. Yeah, I know - it isn't really. The only connection that could be

considered incestuous is locked in my mind. Jake doesn't have any inkling

that I used to be his older brother. Even if I told him, he wouldn't

believe me. Any genetics test would prove that we weren't related at

all. And even though I remember being his brother, I don't think like his

brother now.

It's hard to explain, I guess. Looking back at some of the earlier

entries I made in this diary, I find myself reading the words of someone

else. Every day, another piece of Daniel Korby seems to be lost. In just a

few short weeks things that at first seemed odd and out of place are now

normal. It seems perfectly natural to sit down to pee. Putting on pantyhose

is practically second nature. I don't have to be reminded to wear makeup or

to carry my purse. I look at other girls as just friends now, admiring

their hair, makeup and clothing and wondering how that look would be for

me. I still don't get a big kick out of shopping but I seem to have a good

time with the other girls when I do.

And then, there are the boys - one particular boy, of course.

I suppose it was to be expected. I have all the right plumbing now, so

it's only natural that I'm attracted to boys. When I was a boy, I never

noticed what other boys looked like. Oh, I would size them up as potential

athletes. Did I want them on my team? Could they block or catch a ball? I

would also size them up by interests. Did they like the same things I did?

That sort of thing.

Now, though, I saw them in an entirely different light. I found myself

looking at their builds, not as teammates but as another kind of mate. I

noted the shape of their butts, the smile they gave me, where their eyes

wandered when they were talking to me. I began to wonder what it would be

like to have them. I found that such a thought could even cause me to start

experiencing a tingling sensation in my breasts and between my legs.

When I was with Jake last night, I found I wanted to be close to him -

to cuddle. We just went to a movie and had a Coke afterwards, but I found I

was taking every opportunity to be close to him and to hold his hand. I

ignored most of the movie, choosing instead to snuggle up next to him and

idly wonder what it would be like to, well you know.

I even giggled softly to myself. At least I didn't have to wonder what

he looked like without his clothes on. I had seen Jake without his clothes

since he was a baby. But now things had changed. Oh, how they had

changed. Jenny is determined to save herself for marriage. I'm not sure I'm

that strong. I hope this isn't just some trick of the demon, making me want

Jake like I do. But to tell the truth, I don't really care.

Monday, 23 December 1996

Good lord, has it really been over three weeks since I made an entry

to this diary? Of course I do have a good excuse, or several good excuses

to be more accurate. I guess that makes me a lousy diarist. Well, so be it.

My first excuse is that I haven't had much to report on our little

demon problem. Vickie, Sherry and I have been on the alert for any further

magical activity, but so far nothing. We've tried to keep an eye on

Charlie. Sherry even bit the bullet and threw herself in front of Charlie a

couple of times. It worked. He asked her out on a date. Then one date led

to two and so on. She's been dating him for a couple of weeks and

begrudgingly admits that she's enjoying it. Welcome to the world of

girlhood, Sherry.

But as I said, nothing has happened to Charlie - yet. Vickie thinks it

may be because Charlie hadn't been with us at first. Maybe the demon didn't

think of Charlie as part of our group. Maybe he was happy with

transforming the three of us. Sherry thinks maybe its power is limited and

it needs to recharge its batteries before changing Charlie. I don't think

either of them are right, though. I think the demon is lying low because

even the girls in its little coven are getting suspicious. More on that

later.

Another excuse I have is that I've been researching Indian myths. I

even got Mr. Mackenzie to give me extra credit for a paper on the

subject. Fortunately, the local library had a few books on the subject and

Mr. Mackenzie loaned me a few more. I never realized before what a wide

variety of myths and legends formed the tapestry of Indian folklore. I was,

of course, very interested in finding as many transformation myths as

possible. I was surprised to find how many there were. Most involved

transformation of men into animals, and others were about the mischievous

Trickster who appeared in countless Indian legends under a variety of

names.

But there were some sex changes as well. The one I found most

interesting was the legend of a brave who pissed in a river angering the

spirit of that river. He was turned into a woman for his transgression. I

became even more certain that this was why Vickie, Sherry and I had been

singled out for such a punishment.

What really concerns me is what the demon would do once he had taken

his full revenge on us. He might not be finished with us yet. First, there

is the possibility that he's still after Charlie. Then there is the

distinct possibility that Vickie, Sherry and I are not turning out the way

he wants us to. Oh sure, Vickie started out to be the slut they wanted her

to be, but since she has started dating Bill Wisdom, she has cleaned up her

act. She is even starting to make decent grades, and while she isn't going

to get into any major college, she has decided to start at a community

college in the fall and make something of herself. Secretly, I suspect when

she does that, she'll have a wedding ring on her finger.

Sherry's initial identity was also as a slut, but since I caught her

early, she had overcome the role the demon had made for her. Like Vickie,

she'll probably start out in a modest community college, but she has all of

Ray's math and science abilities, so it shouldn't be long before she is

able to transfer into a larger school and kick serious butt.

Me? Well, I had advantages neither of them had when transformed. I had

Jenny. I had really come to think of her as my older sister, and I had

tried to emulate her whenever I could. Of course, being fifteen helped,

too. Sure, I know there are some fifteen year old sluts - there are several

in my classes. But it's a little harder to be a slut at fifteen. My parents

(and yes, I've really come to think of them as my parents) aren't the sort

of parents who will allow their fifteen year old daughter to go just

anywhere. The day Sherry and I visited the Swensons and met with Vickie was

a rare day. Why? Because they didn't know where I had gone. I had a lot of

explaining to do when I got home, too.

And, of course, I'm too young to drive. I have a learner's permit, and

Dad has been very proud of the way I handle a car. Of course, he doesn't

know that I had been driving one for two years before my

transformation. I'll get my license in March, though, so look out world.

And then there's Jake. I guess the Korby boys are a little slow when

it comes to sex. As Dan, I lost my cherry as a junior. I just wasn't the

kind of guy who tried to score all the time - particularly when I really

liked the girl. I mean, I didn't want to screw up a good relationship with

sex at the wrong time. Jake seems to be that way, too. He reminds me of me

at that age: a little shy and very considerate of his date's

feelings. Every time I'm out with him, I like him a little more. It's

reached the point now that I really look forward to our time together. But

so far, no sex.

But I digress. The point that I want to make is that if the demon

wanted us to be sluts, it has failed. But we've all had ample evidence that

it can shift reality and make us do things we would never dream of doing. I

don't think we're out of the woods just yet.

The other excuses I have for not writing in some time are finals and

Christmas. As for finals, I've got a good thing going right now. Like

Vickie and Sherry, my new reality included a crummy grade point and a

reputation as a mediocre student and slut in training. Unlike Vickie and

Sherry, I'm only a Sophomore. That means I have plenty of time to boost

that grade point. With any luck, it will be straight A's this term.

Then as for Christmas, I've had a lot of shopping to do. So okay, I'm

actually getting into the shopping thing. As Dan, I never thought much

about the presents I bought. My parents would give me spending money and my

brothers and I would pool some of it to buy them their presents. The rest

I would spend on my brothers, but they were easy to buy for. If it had

something to do with sports, they'd like it. As for girlfriends, I never

dated any one girl very long, so I never had to buy one a Christmas

present.

Now, though, it was different. I had already figured out that several

of my new girl friends liked to exchange presents, and in my new family,

each of us girls was expected to buy the parents a present on our

own. Then, I had to shop for Jenny. That was a tough one because I wanted

it to be something special. She may have been involved in my unexpected

transformation, but she had been a good sister to me and I wanted her to

know it. And of course, there was Jake. It's funny, but all the time he had

been my brother, I had given little thought to his presents. Now, though,

it was as if I was compelled to get just the right thing for him. And of

course, all of this took time.

See why I haven't written anything in this diary lately?

And to be truthful, there's another reason as well. When I began this

chronicle, it was with the idea that I wanted to retain as much of Dan as I

could. I was a guy in a girl's body when I began to write this. Now though,

I'm something else. I don't know that I'm all girl because there will

always be some of Dan in me. In fact, if I was offered the chance to be Dan

again, I'd still take it. I'm not really completely comfortable with all of

these feminine emotions and urges. But I'm more girl than boy. I suppose

you can't spend every day being seen as a girl and not become one no matter

what your memories tell you.

Well, that's all I can think of to write for now. I hereby promise to

make an entry right after Christmas. Between having a brand new family and

dating Jake, this promises to be an interesting Christmas indeed.

Thursday, 26 December, 1996

See? I'm making good on my promise. I'm actually writing this down

without a two or three week delay. And I'm not just doing this because I

said I would. I'm doing it because I'm genuinely excited! In many ways,

this was my best Christmas ever.

I don't just mean because the presents were great. Oh, they were, but

in a way, Jenny gave me the greatest gift of all and all she spent on it

was a little time. Let me explain.

The whole family exchanged gifts in a very traditional way. We all

went downstairs Christmas morning still in our robes and exchanged

presents. I suppose it's an indication of how much of a girl I've become,

but I was genuinely thrilled by the gifts I received - with the exception

of some new bras. My mother gave them to me, noting my breasts seemed to be

growing a little more. I didn't like being reminded of that. Clothing,

cosmetics and accessories were all part of my new life, and the delicate

gold necklace Jenny got me was going to look perfect with the white

turtleneck and burgundy skirt my parents got me. Jenny seemed overjoyed

with the earrings that I got her. I knew she had been coveting them ever

since she had seen them in the jewelry store.

We were in her room trying on our Christmas loot. The two of us were

busy giggling like ten year old girls as we tried our new finery on in

various combinations, even trading clothes back and forth. It was hard for

me to understand how appalled my old persona would have been by this

behavior. All I knew was that I was having a good time.

"Meg," Jenny began at last as I tried on yet another new skirt, "I

have one other gift for you... sort of."

I smiled at my sister. "Yes?"

My smile evaporated. I could see she was struggling to say what she

had decided to say. "You've wanted to tell me about that night before you

were changed. I... I think I'd like to hear about it now."

I sat down on the bed beside her. "Oh, Jen..." After my transgression,

she had told me not to call her that again, but somehow I sensed that it

was all right again. "I've wanted to tell you so badly. But why now?"

"Because," she began slowly, "something isn't right. You know that,

too, don't you?"

I nodded but said nothing. Whatever Jenny knew the other girls would

know shortly. I wanted to say nothing that could tip off the demon.

"It just seems all too staged," Jenny went on. "When the Swensons

raped poor Becky Mitchell, and we found out we had the power to do

something about it, it was justice. I mean, the Swensons were punished and

Becky doesn't remember being raped. It seemed like a really good thing. But

now, there have been three more incidents - each involving guys I didn't

think would ever do anything like that. That's why I want to hear your

story."

So I told her, leaving out nothing. I had tried to put the incident as

far back in my mind as I could, as if what had happened really happened to

someone else. I suppose it did when I think about it. After all, Dan

doesn't even exist anymore - I'm Megan.

When I had finished, Jenny was practically in tears. "Then you don't

remember anything about the... the incident?"

I shook my head. "No. I only know what people told me about it. I was

afraid I might have a tumor." I didn't tell her what I suspected now. As

much as I trusted and loved Jenny, whatever I told her would most likely be

common knowledge to all of her friends the next time they used any magic. I

was becoming more and more convinced that this wonderful girl and her

friends were almost as much victims as I was.

At least the air has been cleared between Jenny and me. I feel as

close to her now as I once felt to my brothers. I know if it hadn't been

for her love and support, I would have become a slut like Vickie had

been. Even though she was part of the group that did this to me, I owe her

a lot. No matter what happens from here on, I need to make sure Jenny

doesn't get hurt.

Friday, 24 January, 1997

It happened!

I'm writing quickly because it's late and I'm tired, but I need to

write this down. I haven't written anything for a while because nothing has

happened. Well, that is nothing magical has happened. I suppose a lot has

happened, but I vowed when I started this diary that this wasn't going to

be the diary of a typical fifteen year old girl, and most of what has

happened lately has been strictly girl stuff.

In fact, tonight started out that way - typical girl stuff. So okay,

I'm really a girl now. I spent most of the day thinking about my upcoming

date with Jake. We were just going to a movie, but I have really fallen for

the guy. I don't think of him as my brother anymore. He's just this hunky

guy that I love to be around. I mean, it's not like we're serious about

each other, but I really like him.

Anyhow, we had just gotten out of the movie and were going over to get

a quick Coke at Mickey D's before heading out into the country for a little

innocent lip lock. Before we got back to Jake's car though, Andy Reed, one

of the other Sophomores on the football team came up to us, his face pale.

"Did you hear about Charlie Dugan?" he asked Jake and me. When we

shook our heads, he explained, "He tried to rape Nancy Slayton in her own

house. Her parents were gone and he broke into the house."

My heart stopped. So it had started again. I had thought Sherry was

out on a date with Charlie, so how had this happened?

"Where did you hear this?" Jake wanted to know.

"Mike Hitchcock lives next to her," Andy explained. Mike was also on

the team. "He heard the screams and pulled Charlie off her. Then, he called

me and a couple of other guys."

Andy continued with the details, but I wasn't really listening. I knew

what they would be. Then tomorrow, a frightened Charlie would be lured out

to the old line shack to be transformed into a girl. The demon's revenge

would then be complete, but I had little doubt that it would continue to

create havoc with the help of Jenny and her friends. This would be the last

opportunity we would have to stop it because this would be the last time we

would be really sure of when the demon was to be summoned.

I'll admit I'm having some second thoughts about this. I mean, there

must be another way that involves less risk. Maybe Vickie and Sherry and I

could sneak into the girls' houses and look for the amulet. Without the

amulet, the demon would be powerless. I'm sure Jenny doesn't have it, and

since Vickie as Steve gave the amulet to Stacy, we could start there. Of

course, the problem is that we really don't know where it is. We can only

be sure of where the amulet is when it's about to be used, and that means

tomorrow night.

Of course, we could just forget the entire thing. We're putting

ourselves at considerable risk. If the demon thwarts our attempts to stop

him, Vickie, Sherry and I could find ourselves whores in a Tijuana brothel

or something. Part of me wants to just let things happen. After all, Vickie

wouldn't change back for anything and Sherry is getting used to heels and

skirts. Me? Well, to be honest, being Megan isn't so bad. So why rock the

boat? Sure, Charlie is going through hell right now, but we could help him

after his transformation. He might learn to like being a girl just as we

had.

But of course, there's Jenny. I can't leave her under the influence of

the demon. God only knows what might happen to her if the demon is allowed

to continue its mischief. I'm sure it had far more nastiness in

mind. Changing a few boys into girls is probably just the beginning. No

matter what, I can't leave Jenny in its clutches. After all, she's my

sister.

Sunday, 26 January, 1997

Well, it's over. I feel as if a tremendous weight has been pulled off

my shoulders. But it wasn't without cost, and the cost was nearly

higher. But I'm getting ahead of myself again.

Yesterday of course was the big day. Vickie, Sherry and I met about

noon. I rushed out yelling to my family that we were going to lunch and

crawl the mall. The lunch part wasn't a lie anyway. We picked a corner

table at the nearest Carl's Jr. and in the relative privacy began to plot

our strategy for that evening.

"How do we know they'll take him to the line shack?" Sherry wanted to

know.

"Because," I told her confidently, "they've taken all of us to the

line shack. It's private for one thing, and I'm not sure, but I think there

may even be something it needs out there. Maybe it's magically charged

ground or something. After all, that's where the amulet was found."

"I think it's safe to assume Charlie will be taken to the line shack,"

Vickie agreed. "The question is what we can do about it. I mean, that

little coven has a lot of power. We can't just walk in and demand they stop

his transformation. If we do, there's no telling what they can do to us."

That was a sobering thought. I was just getting used to being Megan

Sue Dawson. And I was sure whatever the demon did to me for interfering

would be a whole lot worse than being Jenny's kid sister.

"We have to go for the amulet right away," Vickie continued.

"But we don't know for sure who's wearing it," Sherry pointed

out. "And there are just three of us and five of them. Besides, what if the

amulet isn't being worn around the neck? It could be in someone's pocket or

something."

"To answer your last concern first, I'm sure it's around someone's

neck," I said. "I've been studying Indian myths with Mr. Mackenzie's

help. If the amulet was designed to be part of a necklace - and we know it

was - then that may be the only way it works right. I think it's a safe bet

it's on a necklace."

I waited for them to nod in agreement before continuing. "As far as

who is wearing it, I'm pretty sure it isn't Jenny. After all, I'm her

sister now. I've been in her room and had a chance to go through her

stuff. It isn't there, and I've never seen her wearing it."

"Stacy is still the best bet," Vickie said confidently. "After all, I

gave the amulet to her."

"Yes," I agreed, "but Karen and Pam are good candidates. They seem to

hate guys so much I wouldn't be surprised to find they are the ones who

came up with the transformation as punishment."

"I think Karen's a dyke," Sherry chimed in. "She started chumming

around with Pam last year. Neither one of them ever seem to date."

"Wrong, I dated Karen a couple of times," Vickie said. "She's a

feminist but she isn't gay. I don't know about Pam though."

"And there's Stephanie," I continued, trying to get back on the

subject.

Vickie shook her head. "I doubt it. Steph is just not the type. She's

a real bookworm. I guess her folks teach over at the community college, so

it's probably natural. Besides, she really doesn't seem to be a leader."

"That's true," I admitted. I had observed that the five girls were

like a committee. Karen and Pam usually had one opinion while Stacy and

Jenny had another. Stephanie was the peacemaker - the tie-breaker one might

say. She never seemed to have an opinion of her own. Besides, she, along

with Jenny and Stacy, had been pretty decent to me. My personal guess was

that either Karen or Pam now had the amulet. I told that to Sherry and

Vickie.

"I don't know," Vickie said slowly. "I'm still betting on Stacy."

No matter who we bet on, we were betting a lot and we all knew

it. There were only three of us and five of them. If we didn't get the

amulet quickly, the demon would have the upper hand. Not for the first

time I mentally cursed that we weren't in our old male bodies. Then the

three of us would be more than a match for five girls. Not now,

though. Vickie and Sherry were as average in strength as the other five

girls were, and I was even smaller and younger. I'd be lucky to handle just

one of them. So if we guessed wrong, we were toast.

It was finally decided that Vickie would take on Stacy and Sherry

would take on Karen. I would take Pam, leaving Stephanie and Jenny

alone. As the de facto leader of our little band of demon stoppers, I would

keep an eye on Stephanie for any sign that she had the amulet. If possible,

I'd enlist Jenny's help, but even though Jenny had her suspicions, I

doubted if she would come to our aid. The others were still her

friends. Besides, we all suspected the demon had possession of all of them

during the magic sessions. Jenny might not be able to help us even if she

wanted to.

I thought about telling Jenny, but I was afraid that she wouldn't be

able to keep the information from the others. Something strange happened

when they were together in that old shack, and I suspected they were linked

telepathically. What one of them knew, they would all know.

We drove out to the line shack about nine that evening. Well, when I

say we drove there, I mean we drove as close as we dared. We parked

Vickie's car on a deserted lane that was barely two visible ruts in the

desert, but a small rise covered with a few bushes protected it from view.

Then we walked back to the shack.

Even the walk was a constant reminder of the disadvantages of my new

body. Shorter than the other two, I had to take more steps just to keep up,

and although my legs were strong from playing a lot of volleyball, they

were not the legs of a prospective college football player I had once been

blessed with. To make it worse, we were wearing jeans against the evening

chill, but they were girl's jeans - tight and designed more to show off our

legs and butts than to be practical. At least I had decent running shoes

on, even if the laces were pink. Also, by the time we reached the shack, my

breasts were a little sore. They had been growing some and I wasn't used to

the additional weight, even in one of my new bras. I felt like a cow.

We had beaten the girls to the shack, so we hid out in the desert

behind a clump of bushes. None of us were particularly comfortable sitting

there on the rocky ground, but we managed. None of us mentioned it but I

know our new feminine personas were a little disturbed at the thought of

all the nasty little beasties that had to be sharing the ground with us. As

guys, we probably wouldn't have even thought about them.

The first three of the five girls showed up about ten thirty. Jenny,

Stacy and Stephanie had come out together. That meant Pam and Karen would

be bringing the guest of honor.

"Maybe we should take them on now," Sherry suggested in a

whisper. "It's just three on three."

"Yes," I replied, "but we don't know how the demon communicates with

them. It's possible that they're in communication with each other all the

time. If we take them on now, the demon may be warned if Karen or Pam have

the amulet. We can't take that chance."

It was tempting though. We could hear them inside the shack, using

powerful flashlights as they quietly prepared the site. They seemed to

suspect nothing, so we could have taken them on. Even though we were now

girls, we would still remember how to fight like guys. That would give us

an edge. But I just kept thinking that if Karen or Pam had the amulet, we

were screwed.

So there was no Plan B. We just had to wait patiently for the others

to show up.

"Meg!" Vickie whispered.

"What?"

"I think I just felt a snake crawl past my leg."

As Steve, I doubted if Vickie would have been so terrified of a snake,

but she was clearly frightened. I looked next to her. "It's just a piece of

brush," I told her, flicking it aside. "Besides, snakes don't move around

much at night. It's too cold for them."

"Quiet, you guys!" Sherry whispered. "Somebody's coming."

The three girls in the shack rushed quickly to an approaching

car. When the engine and lights were shut off, I could make out the forms

of two girls. It had to be Pam and Karen. The other girls went outside to

meet the car. All five of them wrestled with a still form in the back

seat. That had to be Charlie. Well, as Sherlock Holmes would have said, the

game was afoot.

Once they had Charlie inside, we quietly sneaked up on the shack. The

girls inside were making enough noise positioning Charlie that they didn't

notice our approach. We were inside the shack only a few feet from them

when Pam looked up suddenly. "We have company!" she yelled.

Poor Charlie. Jenny, Stacy and Karen had been struggling to move him

into position. Startled, they dropped him, his head striking the dirty

wooden floor with a clunk. At least he wouldn't get cold. They hadn't

managed to remove his clothing yet.

"Remember the plan," I told Vickie and Sherry, relieved as they moved

slightly away from me. They were far enough away to make it difficult for

the girls to swarm over us, yet close enough that we could help each other.

Then, the unexpected happened. We could suddenly sense another

presence in the room. I suppose we had imagined the demon would only speak

through the wearer of the amulet, but the creature apparently had a

presence of its own.

"Meg!" Jenny suddenly cried. "Honey, get out of here. This isn't

anything that concerns you."

Even if I had been willing to take her advice, it was too

late. A... something washed over me. Suddenly, it was as if I was two

places at once. I could see everyone in the room clearly, but everyone was

moving very slowly as if the air around them had suddenly become as thick

as syrup. Superimposed over the normal scene was a gray-brown landscape,

flat and featureless with a sky that seemed to be illuminated by whitish

clouds against a stygian backdrop.

"Little fools!" a booming voice came from all around me. "Little

bitches! Did you really think you could stop me?"

I sensed Vickie and Sherry at my side, but I couldn't turn to see

them. I wanted to reach out to them and hold their hands, for I was truly

frightened. I had never expected anything like this.

"It isn't enough that you defiled my resting place with your foul

urine," he growled, confirming my theory as to why he had done this to

us. "Now you seek to interfere in my plans for this other one. You won't

stop me, you know. Soon, he will join you in your femininity. Like you, he

will bleed each month and crave the touch of a male. I was going to make

his need much stronger than yours, making him the slut he deserves to be,

but now that you have joined us, I will magnanimously do the same for

you..."

I forced myself forward through the thick air, focussing on Pam who

watched my efforts with a combination of shock and delight. She was shocked

at our very presence, but delighted that the demon had even worse plans for

us. That meant they could all hear his voice, or at least sense his

intent. I looked over at the other girls as best I could. There was shock

on Stacy and Jenny's faces, and I thought I saw a tear in Jenny's eye. Her

mouth seemed to slowly form the words "No, Meg!"

"See what I have in store for you..." the demon purred, and suddenly I

felt a warmth flow over my body. My nipples began to swell, becoming

sensitive, and my vagina was suddenly wet. It felt hollow, almost like the

stomach of a hungry man, roiling in the anticipation of a satisfying

meal. I began to feel a need growing inside me - a need that could be

satisfied in only one way.

Still I pushed on. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just barely

see Vickie; she was reaching out toward a startled Stacy. Then, to my other

side I saw Sherry targeting Karen in the same way. Pam was directly ahead

of me now. Yet as we approached our goals, I could almost sense mirth in

the demon. It was as if it knew our efforts were in vain. It was confident,

vindictive, and amused. Something was wrong.

It was becoming hard to think. The demon had gotten our sexual juices

flowing. But why? Why was he taunting us now? Why not just make the

changes to us, make us into mindless sluts, and then do its taunting. No,

it was doing this to us to keep us from finding out where the amulet was. I

tried to look at each of the girls. Each of them had been surprised by our

attack. Each had no idea we would do this. Why? Because they didn't really

understand what was happening. All except...

I had nearly made it to Pam, but I knew in that instant that Pam

didn't have the amulet. But I knew who did.

With every ounce of strength that I could muster, I veered off, away

from Pam. Now it was the demon's turn to be surprised - first surprised and

then shocked. I dived forward, my body suspended in the heavy air and

neatly reached beneath the neckline of Stephanie's blouse and plucked the

hidden amulet from her neck.

My ears were pierced by a sudden scream. Each of the girls in the

coven screamed suddenly and loudly, but it was the scream in my mind from

the demon that was the most unsettling of all. It could know fear. It had

been in my mind and knew that I had the power and the will to destroy it,

and it was frightened. It spoke in my mind in gibberish at first, as if the

loss of the coven had robbed it of its power of speech. Then, I began to

detect words from it as I landed painfully on the old wooden floor.

"I can make you powerful!" it chattered. "I can make you rich!"

"But can you make me a man again?" I asked it with my mind. "Were you

lying about that, too?"

"No... no... I can't make you a man again," it said. "At least not

right away. Later, later I can... when I have absorbed more male

essence..."

So that was how it gained power. It robbed males of their masculinity

and digested it like a rich meal. In my readings, I had found many Indian

shaman were feminized. Maybe it wasn't just an affectation like the experts

believed. Maybe their contact with the Spirit World took little bits of

their maleness from them. But this creature was even worse. It sucked all

the masculinity out until there was only a female remaining. Now, to save

its miserable existence, it was proposing to rob still more males until it

had the power to restore me - if it wasn't lying about that.

Well, I would love to be male again, even as I write these words, but

the cost was too high. My life as a girl wasn't at all unpleasant, even if

it wasn't what I had expected. It certainly wasn't worth the sexual lives

of other guys just to change me back.

"I will prove my word," it said in a fear-choked mental voice. "There

- your friend. No one remembers what he did last night. Even he has

forgotten it. Only those in this room remember it. You see, I can help you

as well - you and your friends."

I didn't say another mental word to him. I wordlessly reached into the

pocket of my jeans and pulled a small silver cross out. The demon began to

screech mindlessly. I felt absolutely no sympathy for it as I dropped the

amulet to the ground and plunged the cross onto it, breaking the charm into

a dozen useless fragments.

Suddenly, the room was quiet, except for the soft whimpering of a

girl. It took me a moment to realize the girl was me.

Charlie was out for the count. According to Jenny, it would be morning

before he woke up. Since he was at Ground Zero with the rest of us, we

suspected he would remember his sexual attack and being kidnapped by Karen

and Pam. But he would probably think it was all a vivid dream since no one

would remember - or in our case, admit to remember - the incident. We'd

have him home safe, sound, and still male before any of that happened

though.

Jenny held me until I stopped crying. I couldn't explain to the others

what I had gone through mentally wrestling with the demon. I think only

Stephanie would understand since she had been in contact with the amulet as

the demon gained power. Stacy and Steve - or rather Vickie - hadn't held

the amulet after the demon truly awakened.

Poor Stephanie. She had taken the amulet from Stacy since her father

was something of an expert on Southwestern history at our community college

where he taught the subject. She never gave it to him, though. From the

fragments of her story that she was able to tell, she had threaded the

amulet onto a necklace and put it around her neck. The demon began to

mentally assault her from that moment on. She wasn't strong enough to fight

him.

For all practical purposes, there had been no Stephanie for several

months. The demon, with access to her memories, had dominated her. So since

the other girls in the coven were often evenly divided on how to use the

magic they had discovered, the demon - as Stephanie - would make the

decisions acting as a tie-breaker.

A somewhat subdued Karen and Pam had already left with Stephanie. They

were going to tell her parents that Steph would be staying with them

overnight at Karen's house. It appeared that she would be alright, but her

mind had been so scrambled by the demon that she would need some help for a

few days. She was certainly in no condition to go home on her own.

"It's funny," Jenny told us as we buried the remains of the amulet,

wrapped together with the silver cross that had dampened the demon's power,

"but we never knew we were being manipulated. Do you suppose the demon was

also planting ideas in our minds?"

I could see the worry on her face. She needed some assurance that the

demon had not snaked into her own mind and the minds of her other friends

like it had seeped into Stephanie's mind. I wasn't sure, but I said

confidently, "No, Jen. I think you had to have direct contact with the

amulet." Like I had, I thought with a shudder.

"Maybe we should say a prayer or something," Stacy suggested. "I mean,

we buried the thing with a cross."

Personally, I suspected that the cross really worked more because it

was silver than because of the religion it represented. But I supposed a

prayer wouldn't hurt. Stacy did the honors on that.

When we were finished, we loaded Charlie into Stacy's car since it was

closest. Then, we all caravaned back to Charlie's house. The rest of his

family was sound asleep as we half carried-half dragged our poor friend to

his room. By some miracle, we did it without waking anybody up.

"Guys," Stacy began when we had all gathered back at our cars, "Jenny

and I were talking. We... we can't say how sorry we are for what we... we

did to you."

Vickie answered for us. "Let's talk about it some other time, okay?"

For the others, that "other time" is yet to come. However, Jenny was

waiting up for me in my room when I got home.

"Meg... I..." That was as far as she got before breaking into

tears. Well, she had held me earlier when I had cried. I guessed it was my

turn now.

"Oh, Meg," she gasped between sobs, "I ruined your life."

I didn't know what to say. It was true on one level. The Dan Korby

that should have gone on to college, played football maybe even at the pro

level, married, and fathered a family would never exist. My real parents

were strangers now. Well, not strangers I guess, but they were just the

parents of my boyfriend. Whatever I was to have achieved in life as Dan

Korby was lost forever.

Of course, on another level, who was to say that my life as Meg Dawson

was going to be any less rich and rewarding? I was bright, attractive,

personable, and in good health. I had, as the old saying goes, my whole

life ahead of me. Sure, Dan was still part of me and always would be, but

in some ways, I was still a guy in a girl's body.

"How can I ever make up for what I've done to you?" Jenny sobbed.

"Don't worry, Jen," I soothed. "We'll get through all this somehow."

I gave her a goodnight hug and sent her off to her room. I even gave

her a wan smile to let her know it would be all right. She gave me one in

return.

So here I am, unable to sleep, writing these words as they are still

fresh in my mind. I feel as if my life has changed again. While Vickie,

Sherry and I were fighting the magic of the demon, I had a purpose. I could

almost forget about who and what I had become since I was wrapped up in the

good fight. Now, I'm not Megan, Demon Slayer anymore. I'm just Meg Dawson,

nearly sixteen and as feminine as a bikini wax. I guess I'll just have to

learn to live with it.

Thursday, 10 June, 1999

Oh my god, I don't believe this! I forgot all about this diary. I

remember back in my Sophomore year when I made the last entries about

defeating the demon. Then, I carefully placed the diary where only I would

ever find it - in the bottom of a sweater bag in the back of my closet. I

remember worrying about what would happen if someone found the diary and

went looking for the amulet. I mean, we hid it well when we buried it, but

some fool might go looking for it, fascinated by the magic and sure that he

could control the demon rather than the other way around. Sure, the amulet

was broken, but it was still magical. Maybe even the fragments were

powerful. We wanted to make sure no one ever found it again.

Then, I got on with my life. I forgot all about the diary until this

morning when I was cleaning out my room for the last time. I picked it up

and read it from start to finish. Did I really write all of that?

Well, maybe I should cut to the chase. I'm going to keep this diary in

a safe place with the idea that maybe someday my children or grandchildren

will stumble upon it. They won't believe a word of it, of course. Who of

them could believe that their mother or grandmother had ever been male? I

find it hard to believe myself.

Anyhow, I need to finish the story. Since whoever reads this will

probably think it's just fiction, so maybe I should call it the epilogue.

I suppose I should mention Stephanie first, since she was such a wreck

after that night. In fact, as nearly as the doctors could tell, she had a

nervous breakdown. It took time, but she recovered enough to graduate with

her class and go on to college. The last I heard of her, she was living

with an aunt in Waco, Texas, and was going to school at Baylor. Good for

her. I've always felt sorry for her. In many ways, she was the biggest

victim of this whole affair. The demon only touched my mind, but it was in

constant contact with Stephanie for months. I shudder to think what she

must have gone through.

Things in Rio del Diablo settled back to normal after we buried the

amulet. Charlie must have awakened the next morning thinking it was all

some kind of pizza-induced nightmare. He never mentioned it, even to

Sherry. That's right - that Sherry. She had dated him mostly to keep an eye

on him, but after a while, something clicked and the two of them got

married last year. I was even Maid of Honor! They're both in college up at

Fresno State now and doing well.

Vickie is married, too. And yes, it was to Bill Wisdom. Although Bill

could have had a shot at the pros, he really wasn't interested, so he

decided not to go on to college. Vickie is taking some courses at the local

community college, though. Vickie has a one year old girl now and Bill

works for his father at a local construction company. I've even baby sat

for her a couple of times. Little Brenda is just the sweetest little

girl. Vickie is so lucky - and happy.

As for the other girls, Karen and Pam left town, and not together. We

always suspected they had a thing for each other, but I think it was just

more a dislike of men rather than a liking for women. None of us know where

they went and frankly, none of us care.

The "us" in addition to Vickie, Sherry and me are Stacy and

Jennifer. We all became good friends. Stacy was even Vickie's Maid of

Honor. I was really sorry to be two years younger than all of them. When

they all graduated and got married - in Vickie's case - or went on to

college as the rest of them did, I felt pretty lonely. Thank god for Jake

or I wouldn't have had anyone to talk to.

Speaking of Jake, that's why I'm cleaning out my room. Jake and I are

getting married on Saturday! I can't believe it myself. Jenny will be my

Maid of Honor, and Jake has asked her fianc� to be in the wedding

party. Then, Jake and I are off for San Diego where he'll major in business

at San Diego State and play football on scholarship. I may have never made

it to the NFL, but it's a good bet my husband will. As for me, I'll be

going to school, too. Mr. Mackenzie sparked a real love for Southwestern

history in me, so I plan to major in history and teach just like him.

One final note before I pack this diary away for good. When I began

this diary, I said I wanted to always remember my life as Dan. Well, I

meant that then I and mean it now. Only I just want to remember him. What I

said and thought over two years ago is the proverbial water under the

bridge. Sure, I still miss football, but I have volleyball now. As I

learned to control my body, I found out that with a little effort, I wasn't

a bad athlete. I grew a little taller that first year and a little

stronger. Although I lacked the natural ability I had enjoyed as Dan, my

new reflexes made me a terrific volleyball player. My last two years I was

on the varsity team for girl's volleyball, and I'm going to San Diego State

on an athletic scholarship just like Jake.

And sure, I missed my family when I was transformed, but now I have

them back. Saturday, they'll all be my in-laws. They've always liked me

and told me it was just like I was part of the family. If only they knew

how true that was.

And as for being a girl, I've had the opportunity to develop from a

slightly angular fifteen year old girl to a fully developed young woman,

and frankly, I found I actually enjoyed the ride. Every time I got a

little more dressed up and my figure became a little more mature, guys that

had barely noticed me before suddenly began to watch Jake and me with

envious eyes. I found I enjoyed that.

And of course, most of all, I've enjoyed being with Jake. It's ironic

that it took my former younger brother to bring out the woman in me. But he

did. It seemed like every time I was with Jake, I began to feel more

natural as a girl until I really didn't want to think about being male

again.

I suppose my children or grandchildren if they read this some day will

wonder if Jake and I ever did experience sex like the doctored entry in my

diary describes. Well, let's just say that if we did, do you think I'd tell

you? Let's just say I'm looking forward to Saturday night and leave it at

that.

The End