I remember the night as though it had been only yesterday. It was a warm evening in late August, even for our small town in northern Michigan. Storms had swept through during dinner and the faint rumblings could still be heard dancing in the distance. The breeze pushing the clouds briskly eastward stopped abruptly and the humid air lay heavy all around. The curtains that had whipped wildly on both sides of my open window now hung limp. The rain had faded, but the echoes of an occasional drip reached up to my second story room, the sounds pushing through the screen while nothing else could. It was a good thing too. Heavy rains and warm seasonal nights had managed to harvest a record crop of mosquitoes and other annoying creatures. Amongst the rhythmic buzzing of the distant cicadas in the treetops, the banging on the window screen from the moths continued unabated, the lamp on the desk in the corner proving an irresistible attraction. I could have shut the light off I suppose, but I wasn’t tired and it was still early. The bugs weren’t really that annoying, as long as they remained outside.
My mind drifted from the window and back into my room. The desk stood in one corner, while two small beds, one of which I was laying on, were tucked into two corners. A small closet completed the room’s main inventory. The other bed was now vacant since my older brother Scott had taken up refuge in a second room down the hall. With my two oldest brothers in college and out of state, it was just the four of us in the three-bedroom colonial. He annoyed the snot out of me being around, but I had to secretly admit to myself that the room seems disconcertingly quiet without his constant noise and clamor. Fortunately, he had moved out a few months earlier and I hadn’t been abused by his new friends, new music and new wardrobe consisting solely of the blackest fashions. I thought our Dad was going to strangle him when he strolled into the kitchen one morning, donning a new, studded collar and pierced ears. Dad choked, Mom stood with her mouth agape and both stared at me.
"Don’t worry about it. I don’t get it either."
They looked relieved, if not totally convinced. If anything, time has a funny way of warping how one sees the world around him. Unbeknownst to all of us, time would again play the trickster soon enough.
We finished breakfast soon enough and Scott, all 17 years of attitude, drifted quietly outside at the sound of a closing car horn. Dad ruffled open the Sunday paper in front and read to himself, only commenting when an annoying article or tidbit rose his dander excessively. I grabbed my dishes and strolled around the kitchen island, rinsing and depositing them into the tub of suds resting in one half of the aluminum sink basin. My Mom ran her hand across the top of my head as I retreated and commented on the curls reaching in all directions. It was going to be time for another haircut soon, but it could wait. School was another month away. She always commented that she had to pay for those curls and it was a shame that I had them for free. They never failed to draw a comment or two from Grandma too when we visited. It seems that my long, curled eyelashes were also an errant gift from some unknown deity as well. I didn’t understand why at the time, but I craved the attention and it just felt right.
Finished with breakfast and breezing quickly through the comics, I prepared to dart outside and enjoy the day when my Mom swept into the foyer and intercepted me coming down the staircase with mitt in hand.
"Only play in the lot next door and if the ball drifts into the weeds, just get another one. No playing in the woods and only drink from this." She said, passing me a sealed bottle of water. "Screw the tap back on tight when you’re not drinking from it and don’t refill it from anywhere, got it young man?"
I rolled my brown eyes under those beautifully long lashes, made that exasperated sound through pursed lips and donned my haggard baseball cap. "Yes Mom. Thanks"
She stepped aside and let me go.
"And be home for dinner by five. That’s an order."
I didn’t look back but waved my glove in the air to acknowledge the comment and raced off to join the small group of kids beginning to congregate next door. She watched my lanky frame depart before turning and heading back to the kitchen. I wasn’t tall by any means and mainly ‘knees and elbows’ as Grandma always called me upon my entrance into the room.
Over protective? Maybe, but no more so than anyone else’s mother would be under the circumstances. All parents in our small community were on edge. Daily meetings with authorities and just a common fear of a big unknown ‘ravaging’ our neck of the woods had put all the adults really, under a tremendous amount of pressure. Even the CDC out of Atlanta had made a small appearance in town, adding to the suspense. In stark contrast to their fear, all the kids in town watched in awed fascination while their team wandered about town with a menagerie of electronic gadgets, nets and other paraphernalia. A few even wandered around the swampland at the edge of town, safely wrapped in their protective, bug proof suits. Summer was still in full force and school was out, but our access to the outside world was severely restricted. The town officials enacted curfews. Anyone under the age of twenty-one had to remain inside from dusk till dark. That didn’t prove very difficult for most of the kids my age. When the sun retreated, the mosquitoes returned in force and provided all the motivation we needed to find shelter. The ‘emergency’ in town, of which I really knew very little, made sleepovers a regular event at one house or another and the parents seemed unusually eager to participate. That what I noticed they do when fear strikes. The same thing happened the year before when a kid had been abducted after school. It was just a defense mechanism.
But this was different. A very real ‘enemy’ had drifted unseen into town and no one, including the government scientists, could I.D. the culprit.
It had all begun really, nearly three months earlier. School had just let out for the summer. That single fact had probably helped to mask the events that were about to unfold in our quiet, sleepy town.
The summer started out hot. Sun every day, following a long, rainy spring had been the answer to all our prayers. The local community pool had opened on Memorial Day weekend as always but hadn’t seemed overly inviting considering the cooler than expected weather. Now, however, the heat had driven hundreds to its wet oasis. We were no different. I was fortunate enough to have a mother who didn’t work. She claimed the title of ‘Domestic Engineer’ when asked by solicitors, but found the time from her schedule to take me down to the pool for a few hours. Such a thing was totally uncool for my brother and his friends, who mysteriously disappeared during the day, only to call from one of their friend’s homes when the curfew time was at hand. It was a small town, so there wasn’t much they could get into without word getting out.
Besides, my Mom could get out of the house and kibitz with the other ‘Domestic Engineers’ who had brought their own children for fun in the sun. A few glorious days passed without incident. The water remained cool and the sunscreen flowed. Then on the tenth of June, a Thursday afternoon, it happened. Another mother strolled in, amongst the usual greetings and took up her spot with the others while her two children in tow, checked out the scene. Even though they both attended the other school in town, I knew the Johnson brothers. Not well, but well enough. Jimmy was ten, red haired and sickeningly outgoing. Everyone liked him well enough and I hated him for it. I wasn’t the most social of kids I’ve been told.
His brother on the other hand, was a real introvert. Tim liked computers, the Internet and books. He was nice enough to talk to, but usually kept to himself. When he walked in, towel firmly around his neck, T-shirt, shorts and a book in hand, no one had taken any notice of him. Finding a sliver of shave off to one side, he sat down and immediately buried his nose in the literary work while his brother kicked off his flip-flops and jumped right into the aquatic mayhem. Life as we knew it would have gone on unabated had a group of mischievous youngsters not spied their isolated schoolmate. Drifting ever closer, like a pack of hungry hyenas, they came within striking range before the absorbed youth knew what was coming. Rushing in from different directions, two of them grabbed his ankles and lifted quickly, keeping him from gaining any leverage, while the second pair secured his elbows. The helpless Tim Johnson clutched the book tightly to his chest as the group rushed towards the pool’s edge. Despite the rules against horseplay, the pool stopped its activities to watch the action quickly rise to a head. As if acting as one, they released their quarry into the air, grabbing at the book, shirt and towel as the body flew outward over the water. Splashing down harmlessly, the four deposited the items at the edge and sauntered away to relish their victory. The guard whistled in their direction but they ignored his calls to cool it. Everyone laughed as Tim’s head popped partially above the rolling crest of water, his eyes wide. No harm done, they thought. Tim watched as everyone returned to their own activities. Feeling confident once again with his four ‘friends’ safely out of the way, he swam low in the water towards the edge and his belongings. Before reaching the edge, he encountered a second swimmer moving stealthily under the waves. Nearly pinned against the stucco side of the pool, the unexpected encounter had two effects. My friend Keith popped above the surface, his mask framing a pair of wild eyes, while Tim, showing nearly the same terrified, deer-in-the-headlights look, shoved him quickly aside, grabbed over the edge for his towel, grasped it tightly against his chest and darted from the patio, leaving his book and shirt behind. Before I could question Keith about the weird incident I had just witnessed, his mother had seen the distress in his face and raced over to find out what was wrong. Dripping wet, he climbed out and whispered into his mother’s ear. She spoke and he pointed in the direction Tim had retreated. His look of terror was passed quickly to his mother. She stood up, frantically motioned Tim’s mom over, whispered a few words to each other and the pair filed out through the exit with a couple more in two.
He must have been hurt, I thought to myself, seeing imaginary streams of blood drifting in the water. I climbed out and stood around waiting. My own mother had been one of those in the nervous posse. Keith had wandered over, his mask pushed up on top of his head and towel wrapped tightly around him.
"He cut himself?" I asked.
Apparently not hearing me, I asked him the same thing again.
Keith shook his head back and forth.
"Then what?" I quickly asked. "The suspense is killing me."
"He has boobs!" came a muffled reply from under the lip of the towel.
"He what?"
"He has boobs. I was swimming around and thought I had come up on one of the girls without her top on. When I came up and saw it was him, I freaked out."
I didn’t understand, but knew something had to be up. Far out in the parking lot between a minivan and SUV, I could see that the group of women had caught up with Tim. Something had to be happening, as they were careful to shield any activity from view.
Wow, I thought. Boobs on a guy. Something strange was a foot.
Only a minute or two had passed before the sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance. A cloud of dust signaled the arrival of an ambulance and emergency vehicle. One of the mothers flagged them down and after taking Tim inside, the group of women hustled back to the pool and quickly set to command everyone from the pool. A few kids, who had arrived unattended, chose to ignore them and continued swimming. I was already out and followed my mother from the swimming area and into our vehicle, a crowd lining up behind us as we departed.
"What happened to Tim?" I asked.
"Nothing." Was her reply. "Nothing. He’s fine."
I could see that something was a miss by watching her shaking hands. We lived outside the edge town so it was only a few minutes before traffic thinned behind us and we arrived yet again in our driveway. Not one step inside the back door, I could already hear the phone ringing in the kitchen and two messages already on the answering machine.
"Head on up you your room and get changed. . . . Play upstairs for a while too." She added as an afterthought.
I did as she asked and dropped my wet suit in the bathroom shower stall at the end of the hall. I could hear excited chatter spiraling up the stairway and was hooked. I crept as close as possible and listened intently for any kind of information I could glean. Fortunately, my brother was gone and the upper floor was relatively quiet. Dad was still at work and mom was so preoccupied that her soaps were forgotten. The only sound in the house was her voice.
"Tonight at the high school. Got it. Five P.M."
Not much help here and I seriously doubted that Mom was going to let me out of her sight so I could go and find out what was really happening.
"Cheryl. Did you hear? . . . . Yeah, pretty weird. . . . Yes. Tonight at five. . . . O.K. See you there tonight. . . . No. I’m not bringing the boys either. Bye.
She hung up one call and started another. The phone never had a chance to ring that afternoon as she repeated the process over and over again. Nothing new, so I turned from the stairwell and headed for my room. TV was downstairs, so that left little choice but to stick my nose in a book. Wonder if excessive reading had done that to Tim?
I chuckled at the thought and was asleep in minutes. When I came to, the sound had drifted into the window and I could hear the clanking of plate and silverware coming from downstairs. I heard voices and rushed to the kitchen. Dinner was served and the any serious conversation between my parents had already been completed. All through dinner, talk centered around anything but the events which had transpired earlier today despite my gentle nudging in that direction. It became clear over dessert that I would have to find my own source of information.
My brother had missed dinner again and because of the mysterious rendezvous, I was left to cleanup. Not a great task with three of us and I was in front of the tube even before my parents had departed. The news had held no clues and I flipped off the set in frustration. Perhaps after thinking it over, they would clue me in tomorrow.
I awoke the next morning to a face full of sunshine. The rays had reached my face, so it must have already been late. As expected, my father had left for work hours before and my mother was working her way through her daily routine of chores. To say she was evasive would have been an understatement to say the least. The town was small and news would have to get out soon or later. I had hoped for sooner. Working on my own chores, I toted the trash toward the back door and spotted the daily paper on the stoop outside. Absentmindedly, I grabbed the lid to the can and dropped the sack inside and set the lid back in place. I kept my eyes locked on the paper as though it might suddenly disappear out of existence before I could grasp it. I could see a partial photo and a partial headline. Even folded over I could tell it was Tim’s yearbook photo from last semester. I snatched it up but before I could retreat, I sharp jab to the palm of my hand brought my attention back to reality. Before I had even thought about it, I reacted by crushing my spare fist into the already pulsating palm. A wasp or bee I thought, not sparing more than a second or two on the crushed instigator. Instead, I snatched up the paper, tossed aside the intruder and skulked quietly through the kitchen. The vacuum was running in the living room and provided the cover I needed to reach my room. Clutching the paper as though a treasured prize, I raced up stairs and closed my door. I stripped the rubber band and unfolded the front page. It was indeed a picture of Tim under the headline reading, "Local boy infected". Afraid that Mom was going to interrupt my golden opportunity, my eyes darted down the words trying to catch the gist. They hadn’t found the cause, but apparently changes in Tim had taken place after all. Throughout his system, a metamorphosis had taken place. He had been keenly aware of the physical manifestations of the changes, but not the true source. Over the past two weeks, he was aware that changes were happening at alarming rate but had been afraid to seek help. The paper went on to explain that the earliest symptoms had included a simple sore throat and rash leading to an expansion of the breast tissue, weight loss and embarrassingly enough, a lack of sexual arousal. Rushed blood work had already shown that within most of his cells, the second or Y chromosome had literally withered and went into hibernation. Lacking its ‘male’ instructions during replication, the cell turned to the dormant X chromosome and went on with its newly assumed duties. The story continued to describe the heated reaction of parents and citizens who had attended the adhoc meeting the previous evening. Chaos had broken out, scientists from the local university and CDC were to be called in to investigate and until further notice the regular routine of a small, Michigan town was going to be disrupted. The vacuum cleaners silent end brought me out of my dreamy slumber. I didn’t know the specifics, but if changes in Tim’s body were like that of a caterpillar, then it was possible that he could emerge from the strange experience as a blossoming butterfly. Tim could very well be replaced by Tammy? But if something like this could happen to him, why not me? My eyes darted down to the end of the story and it mentioned that people would be combing the area with questionnaires and asking questions. In addition, it was asked that all citizens of the town visit my elementary school for a private examine by local doctors and screenings of all family pets. Today was the date the story had provided and local hours given by the paper directed the activities based on an alphabetical basis. Hearing footsteps on the stairs and with lunch approaching, I closed the paper back up, wrapped it again with the rubber band and jumped to my feet. Pulling the screen of my window free, I tossed the bundle towards the door below and it dropped with a thud on the lawn only inches from the front steps. I pulled the screen in and turned in time for the door to pop open.
"What are you up to? You look guilty of something"
"Nothing." I replied, trying to look less guilty. Somehow mothers always seem to know.
I asked if it was time for lunch. It was.
I asked if I could go out to play after lunch. As expected, I couldn’t.
I asked if we could go to the pool. We weren’t
"We are going out after lunch, but it’s a surprise." With that, she turned on her low heel and proceeded back downstairs.
I followed, knowing exactly what the surprise would be.
After lunch, we climbed into the family van and drove slowly into town. I knew where we were heading. After I was convinced I was correct, I asked why we were going to the school. Perhaps some more answers would be forthcoming.
We turned onto the entranceway and I was amazed by the ton of vehicles crammed into the small lot in every direction. The police were directing traffic, but it was slow going. News trucks had sprung up on the playground, their dish antennas pointing skyward like a patch of flowers. We climbed out and took our place obediently in line. I recognized most of the kids and some of their mothers. Dad would have to come after work and I’m sure they would have to dig up Scott somewhere and drag him here against his will. That was just his way. At least as of two months ago. Probably just another rebellious phase.
The line moved briskly. Reports were kept at bay, trying to get anyone in line to respond to their shouted questions. Flashes went off and cameras continued to pan back and forth along the people, having nothing better to shoot.
As we neared the doors, it started to look a lot like voting day. You went in one door, approached a table filled with volunteers who checked your ID and then stood in a second line crawling into the small gymnasium.
Another twenty minutes and a half dozen questions later, we had paperwork in hand and were directed to one of a half dozen small, tent-like structures erected on the parquet surface. Once inside, we sat at a table with a stern looking woman dressed in white and answered several more embarrassing questions. After that, Mom rose to her feet and disappeared behind a portable screen where she talked quietly with an unseen individual. Moments later, she appeared around the corner and waved me over. She was accompanied by what appeared to be a doctor who removed my shirt and gave me a quick visual inspection.
"Any rashes young man?" He asked in a baritone voice.
I shook my head no.
"Appetite alright?" He asked Mom more than I, but we both shook our heads in the affirmative.
"Alright then. Thanks for coming in." I donned my shirt, he tossed his latex gloves in the trash and we were ushered out the back of the tent. I was trying to read the look on my Mom’s face when cries of another woman reached us. She was being directed towards the rear entrance, one of her two sons in tow. The doors opened and a waiting ambulance roared to life at the command of an unseen driver. A man in fatigues approached the remaining youth and escorted him towards one of the front offices.
It didn’t take a scientist to see what had happened. Little Joey Abrahams was undergoing the same change as Tim. It had apparently started or the doctors wouldn’t have noticed it.
On the way home, Mom tried her best to explain what was going on. Tears were welling up in her eyes by the time we reached home. I was sent into the living room to watch TV while we waited for Dad to get home. I strolled into the kitchen around dinnertime and reached for a glass by the sink. As though horrified by the simple act, Mom jumped to her feet and directed me towards the canned pop in the fridge. Not soon after, Dad strolled in with Scott in tow. Neither looked particularly happy, but upon hearing the news of our experiences, Dad seemed relieved. My brother acted aloof and disappeared upstairs. When the ‘dinner bell’ rang, he quickly appeared, took his seat and dove in as though he hadn’t eaten in a week. Obviously, either his appetite was strong or he was willing himself to eat. I had pushed the first few spoonfuls of mashed potatoes around my plate before I noticed two things. The other three people at the table were watching me with a mix of emotions and that my appetite really wasn’t that strong.
"What? I snuck a candy bar two hours ago and just aren’t hungry yet."
They turned away, my brother ambivalent, my father relieved and my mother . . . . She almost looked disappointed when she returned to her own meal.
When we finished, we cleared the dishes just as rain began coming down outside. All of us ran to close the windows and once done, I was told to head upstairs for a while like my brother. Before I had even hit the stairs, dad had the TV on and turned to the only news channel we could pick up at home. It would be hard to hear what was said over my brother’s blaring radio, but a few key words from dad brought the volume down a tad. Naturally, the lead story was about today’s events.
" . . . a total of four victims have already been identified." The anchor read off smoothly before continuing. "All of the victims are male youths, leading researchers to believe that although similar infections may be occurring in young females, the loss of one X chromosome is simply not having similar physical side effects as on the male youths. No adults have been found to be showing the same types of symptoms. For now, the CDC is recommending that you keep all males under the age of 18 inside as much as possible and to boil all water prior to use. An interview with the head researcher and professor at CMU in our next hour."
I knew that was all there would be. Somehow the parents always stayed glued to the set expecting more. Still disappointed in the lack of information, I strolled down to my room and lay down on my bed.
I believe this was the point I began the tale. The rain had stopped, the bugs had sprung back to life in all their forms and the evening was passing like any other. The day had been different, and I could notice now that my heart was racing slightly. I didn’t have a sore throat and felt a strange pang of disappointment. My palms were slightly sweaty and upon inspecting each, I found that the tiny spot in the center of my right hand was slightly red in color. A small dot was visible at the very center and my breathing paused for a moment. Seconds passed before I could recall the source. It was the bug earlier that day that had stung my hand. It had looked like every other wasp I had seen, so it couldn’t have been the cause of Tim’s and the other’s strange transformations. It was extremely frustrating laying there, trying desperately to decide if it being a ‘victim’ of this strange phenomenon would be a blessing or dream come true.
From my earliest recollections, I had always known that I was different from anyone else. Being young didn’t help either. There were enough other crises to over come at that age that one more certainly wasn’t welcome. I often would daydream that a mistake had been made and that I was really a girl or perhaps a genie or time portal would open up and grant my wish to change how I looked, how I dressed and how others treated me. But in the face of this occurring and seeing how the woman rushed out of the gym crying today made me wonder if the musing of a young man was really what I wanted in my heart. It was a very confusing time.
I looked down at my palm, trying to decide if the reddened area was spreading or looking even a slightly darker shade. I seriously doubted if it would have in the two minutes since I last checked, but it looked slightly darker to me just then. I leaned back and tried not to look, instead seeking some greater meaning in the mild swirls in the pattern of paint rolled across the ceiling above me. My lids closed slowly, turning the thoughts inward. We I came to, the night had passed. I was undressed and under the covers, tucked safely away from the world at large. Although it was Saturday and mid morning to boot, it was still relatively quiet in the house. I could hear a pan on the stove every so often and the occasional rustle of newspaper. My brother was undoubtedly still asleep. He would rise after noon and be out well after midnight, a routine he could follow again now that the curfew had been restricted to only those under the age of sixteen. I rose from the covers, still groggy and stumbled down the hall towards the bathroom. Checking in the mirror before climbing in the shower, I could see that little had changed. The pang of disappointment only grew as I looked at my palm and could see that the prick of the stinger had sealed tight and the swelling and redness had virtually disappeared.
"Just great." I thought to myself as I stripped and kicked on the water. Once warm enough, I slid the curtain forcefully aside in a snit and stepped into the flowing liquid. I lathered with shampoo and quickly completed the chore. Still half asleep, I grabbed the bar of soap and started on the same task for the body. Half hearted efforts brought the task quickly towards a successful finale when I paused for just the slightest of moments. Something had changed. I slid my slick hand across the same stretch of body again and looked down to see that they migrated toward the small pink nipple on my upper chest. I hadn’t noticed it visually, my there seemed to be a slightly larger protrusion of my breasts or boobs as Keith had referred to them. It could have been just a wishful thought or a trick of the light now, but once pointed out to my brain, my eye convinced itself that the subtle contours had become more rounded and fuller. My two hands continued to slide effortlessly across the budding breast, a mild erection accompanying their arrival. It was a sense of overwhelming joy for me at that moment. I had decided the previous night, before falling asleep, that if permitted, I would run through every forest and patch of grass, play in every swamp and drink from every source of water I could find. Although not knowing the exact consequences of the action and throwing caution to the wind, I had hoped that I too would become a ‘victim’ of this phenomenon. The thought had occurred to me, while dreaming, that only those who were truly horrified of this infection’s results would be affected while those of us who would have gladly sought such things, were some how immune. It all had seemed somehow unfair, but for once a slim sliver of hope beat inside my blossoming chest.
"Don’t waste all the water!" My brother exclaimed, busting into the shower.
My euphoria retreated and I turned towards the shower, hoping the stream of water would hide my new, wondrous infliction!
Sure. I was being ridiculous. I had barely noticed myself and even an extreme inspection by anyone would be hard pressed to notice any change in my physique. Even so, I breathed a sense of tremendous relief when I heard him walk out and pad downstairs. I turned off the water, tolled off quickly and carefully wiped off the mirror, hoping to catch a sight of the new me. As you can guess, it was disappointing. My self esteem wasn’t the greatest you can tell, but after having glorious visions of what you hope you can be, it’s quite a downer to find that indeed, the sow’s ear isn’t quite the silk purse you had imagined. With that, I turned, checked the hall and finding it clear, darted to my room where I slid on another T-shirt and pair of shorts. Running a comb through my curly chestnut colored hair provided another wonderful sensation, knowing it would be allowed to grow out now. They might be able to cure it early on, so if I was ‘infected’ I was going to do what I could to keep it a secret until the effects could not be reversed. I gave myself a last once over in the bedroom mirror and despite knowing that no one would notice, I could not help but feel that my chest was sticking out. I knew that the most likely source of giving myself away was to act weird. In retrospect, I could see Tim’s odd behavior. I was just going to have to act natural to pull it off.
"Jamie!" came my mother’s voice. "Breakfast . . . ."
I caught myself whistling as I headed downstairs and turned it off as I descended. I could almost convince myself that I could feel each breast bobbing up and down as I took every step. It was going to be an interesting week. I would just have to keep as much of it to myself as long as possible. Forecasts of cooler weather and the town isolating itself would provide me a chance.
This late in summer vacation, I would normally be watching the days fly by with the dreadful anticipation of a new school year racing quickly into my sights. This week, however, each day passed excruciatingly slow. I had tried to avoid the family as much as possible, turn in early and sleep as late as seemed reasonable. So far, the cool weather had dictated sweatshirts and with the pool in town drained, there was little need to find excuses not to swim. My luck had held for several days. Even now, life was returning to its normally slow pace. Dad was still going to work to earn his wage, while Scott, trying to be the constant rebel, stayed out away as much as possible. That left me to play around the house and dodge my mother, who seemed preoccupied with her normal routine of chores. Tomorrow was Saturday and I’d have dad to avoid, but with his own weekend routine of lawn chores, I felt relatively assured that it wouldn’t provide a problem. So far, my plan was working wonderfully.
It was Friday morning. The first thing I realized was that the sun had once again climbed up its usual path into the sky and was beaming in through my window. It had to be late morning and I simply lay there basking in the warmth. The next thing I could recall was a shuffling sound inside my room. My mom was dusting along the bookshelves as she often did and was working her way around my room as I slept. I’m not sure why I did it, but I cracked an eye and watched her go about her chore with her the usual gusto reserved for such an activity. From the shelves she went to my brother’s bed frame and then to the desk in the corner. As I watched, my view changed. It happened then, as only something like this could. It was only two seconds, but it was packed with hundreds of instant thoughts and sensations. She sprayed the cloth again with the can she held in the other hand, turned from the desk to the foot of my bed and did a double take. During that time, my eye spied the conspicuous, rounded mound of a breast pointing up under my thin T-shirt. The sun had provided delicious warmth into the room and the covers that I had tucked tightly around my body had been unconsciously kicked away during the early morning hours. I felt panic, froze in fear, relished in the exposure and managed to roll onto my side, all while continuing to feign deep slumber during those critical seconds. I slid my arm down, trying to conceal the every burgeoning bulge. It had blossomed in those five days well to the point that they kept me from rolling completely over. The sensitive feeling of nipples against the cotton sheets was truly intense. The fear of my mother’s reaction, however, was equally thrilling if for other reasons. She must have seen something, but I was afraid to move an inch. If I rolled now, a confrontation would take place. Perhaps enough time had passed. I knew I couldn’t hide if forever, but being half-asleep did not provide a moment of coherent thought. If my secret was to be revealed now and she was the one to do it, I would have little choice. But as it stood, we were at a stalemate. My eyes were still closed, but the ears were prickling with anticipation but heard nothing but shallow breathing out of cycle with my own. I began to assume that she was going to stand there until I gave in and stirred, but after a few moments of apparent indecision, I heard her footsteps pad across the thick carpet and presumed that she was quietly retreating from my room. The creaky board at the bottom of the staircase signaled her departure but I cracked an eye again just to be sure. I breathed a sigh of relief and could have almost convinced myself that I had narrowly escaped detection. I slithered out from under the sheets and crawled to the doorway. I heard her moving about the kitchen but didn’t hear her voice. She wasn’t on the phone like I had expected. I thought for sure that my secret was safe until I heard a car door slam below my bedroom window. How could she have signaled anyone? I shot to the edge of the curtains and looked down in time to see our car, with her firmly behind the wheel, back into the street and race quickly away! I finished dressing with the oversized sweatshirt from the previous day, socks and a pair of baggy Levi’s. Frantic, I raced downstairs, the jiggle from my chest no longer imaginary and looked around desperately for answers. Should I hide? Should I leave the house and come back later? I was still confused when I spied the note resting on the kitchen counter.
‘Jamie- Had to run out. Stay inside and I’ll be back shortly. Love –Mom’
She was heading towards town and that meant she was going for help. Convinced that a convoy of official looking vehicles would arrive shortly, I accepted my fate and sat in front of the TV, munching handfuls of dry cereal. Unlike most mornings, my appetite was stronger than normal. I had finished nearly half the box when I heard a car return. The back door opened and sounds of footsteps could be heard on the linoleum in the back entranceway.
"Jamie!" she called out. "Are you out of bed yet?"
I didn’t reply at first, but she must have heard the TV and popped a head around the corner. Spying me there, she smiled.
"I have a surprise for you."
Even those words couldn’t pull my eyes from the set to meet hers. I could feel my heart beat excitedly in my burgeoning chest.
I bet you do, I thought to myself. Probably a row of blue suited CDC goons hiding behind her in the hallway.
"Stay right here and I’ll call you when I’m ready, OK."
A meek "Uh-huh." was the best I could do.
I heard her retreat up the stairs and return only seconds later. So far, no commandos had rushed the room tossing tear gas. She returned from the car once again and headed upstairs.
"I’m ready!" she practically yelled out down the stairs.
It was fruitless to wait any longer, I thought. I have to admit to you, that my interest has turned from doubtful distress to one of a more curious nature. I rose from the sanctuary offered by the sofa and took the stairs slowly, feeling as though I had bricks tied to my feet. Sweaty palms made the handrail little help. When I crested the top and stood indecisively about a direction, I heard her call to me again.
I followed the sounds towards her room and stood in the doorway, having a hard time meeting her eyes with my own.
"Come over here and sit with me for a while?" She asked, the smile I saw earlier had returned. I could see slight tears welling up in her eyes.
I waggled my head from side to side, staring down at my feet.
"Please?" she begged, her arms stretched out to embrace me. Hesitantly, I took a few steps, but stopped short of her grasp.
"C’mon. . . . A few more feet." She motioned with her hands and I took plunge. "I know what’s happening."
She wrapped her arms around me and held me tight. It had been last year when I protested excessively and she quit passing out free hugs. I had forgotten how great they felt. It was a bit different I have to admit with my two new additions. Even mom mentioned the unusual sensation.
Grabbing both sides of my shirt, she lifted, but my arms, wrapped tightly around my chest, prevented the disrobing. She gave me that familiar ‘look’ and I complied, raising my arms above my head. The shirt came off and my arms again drew around me unconsciously. Mom pushed them to my sides and we stared at the rounded mounds of flesh protruding from my chest. The smooth, pale flesh rose to a point, ending in two peaks of tender pink nipples. Mom gasped in amazement at the site. I was pretty overcome with emotion myself, but the tears in my own eyes brought a different reaction from my mother.
"Don’t cry dear. I’m sure this will all work out Jamie. You’ll just have to grow up a bit faster than you expected."
My tears of joy had been misunderstood. She had taken the change not only in stride, but seemed almost as happy about it as I was. I didn’t think it was possible, but if dad’s reaction was even one of acceptance, this may work out in the end. I only hoped Scott’s indifferent attitude would apply to the situation, but I’m sure this would be a different situation. Then there were the kids at school and friends to contend with. I would have to face that eventually too. My mind raced as I tried to grasp all the implications. It was then that mom rose from the bed and knelt down on the floor next to boxes I hadn’t noticed before. I shivered in the coolness of the room and caught my reflection in my parent’s full-length mirror. I was hooked. From the floor to the waist, the socks and jeans hid my lanky frame. From the waist up, I looked different. The smooth, pale skin was smoother and stretched out over my long, thin arms. The two blossoming breasts stuck out ahead of me and the curly hair and long eye lashes added to the feminine look. Even now, loaded with all sorts of exciting thoughts and visions, the butterflies in my stomach failed to attract any type of erection, which normally accompanied my infrequent raids into my mom’s lingerie drawer or clothes hamper. Just as well to, as she motioned me to strip further. Even considering the circumstances, I could think of nothing more embarrassing than undressing with something else pointing out from my body. I pulled off my socks, dropped the loose jeans to the floor and stepped out of them. My mother, being the typical mom, picked them up, folded them neatly and set them aside. Lastly I removed my underwear and tossed them towards my jeans. Unsure of what was happening next, I looked up at her. She had grabbed a plain, brown bag from next to her and opened it up, the finely creased paper crackling in her shaking hands.
"You’re going to love this." She said softly, finally wrestling an object from the bag. "Here, try these on." Tearing the cellophane open, she pulled out a pair of cotton undies and passed them to me. I didn’t understand at first why I was getting new underwear, but when I took them from her and opened them up, I could see the soft linen was dyed a the softest of pinks. The tears began to well up in my eyes again when I slipped a leg into each hole and pulled them upwards, the round leg holes massaging my soft, inner thighs. I pulled them up the rest of the way and felt the tight material wrap comfortably around my rear and stomach. They were smaller and more feminine than my other pair and the pink material was a change from the normal, stark white. I rubbed my hands over the cloth and felt the exhilaration; the rush of repeated waves of onrushing sensations. I shivered again, but not from the cool air of my parent’s room. The cotton wasn’t as silky as the items I had borrowed from my mother’s drawers, but it was nice to be experiencing them in front of mom without the usual traces of guilty running constantly through my mind. Although I had wanted to experience this change, it was the insect after all that chose me. Opportunity was the one that had knocked at my door. I hadn’t gone looking for it. Even now, with my mother’s guidance and acceptance, I was seeing my dreams materialize without guilt. I had seen others like me on television. I had watched with guarded fascination while I tried to learn through them why I felt this way and dressed this way. Most explained that they had been forced to dress in girls clothing as children by their mothers, aunts, sisters or baby sitters and that now they just couldn’t help themselves. Until watching those programs, no one had known my secret. If I hadn’t been forced to do this, what could have been my reason to do it? I loved the feeling in those rare moments and although to this day I don’t know all the causes, I understood even back then that those individuals on the screen hadn’t needed any more coercing than I did to slip into a pair of underwear here or a dress there. Guilt was a pretty heavy thing to deal with and if they wanted to believe that their dressing was someone else’s fault, I guess it was their prerogative. I had my own pangs of guilt to deal with in my own way. Right now, I was riding the rush and staring into the mirror again at a reflection representing my new self.
"You’ve done this before." She commented more than asked.
Although it appeared all right to do this now, the guilt was back again in full force as though I was doing something morally wrong and lying to everyone about it. They had been her clothes after all and in a way, which was stealing in a way.
"You don’t have to be afraid Jamie. It was simple elimination. Makeup slightly askew. Clothing ruffled. Drawers partially opened. It could just as easily have been Scott" she said, "But my shoes are too small for him."
It may have been all right to feel OK about all this now, considering the circumstances, but I still felt dirty in some way.
"Here. Try this on."
In her hands, she held a matching pink bra. It wasn’t the frilly lace kind with the uncomfortable wires inside, but it had its own particular attraction."
"I was in a hurry. Sorry about " She was almost apologetic about the selection. "We’ll take care of that later."
I didn’t know what she meant, but passed on the thought and accepted the pink bra in shaking fingers. She took it back when it was clear I wasn’t completely used to the contraption.
"This kind you put on like a jacket." Holding it out, I fed one arm through the strap and turned so I could put my other arm through the remaining loop of material. It was different that the one’s my mom owned.
"Then you take the clasp like this and lock it together. . . ." Her words drifted off as she wrestled with the snap.
"Your chest is larger than I guessed." Again, she apologized and promised to make it up to me. My eyes wanted to stare again into the mirror but wouldn’t. Instead, I watcher her hand move towards another bag behind her. Moments later, a plastic egg appeared. Curious and motivated, I watched as she twisted it open and a pair of tan nylons fluttered out onto the carpet. I sat down next to her on the rug and pull them towards, unwrapping as I went. Besides trying to put them on backwards, I managed to work the first leg onto my thumbs and inserted my right toes into the stocking. Slowly, it unraveled around my foot, the heel and after successfully maneuvering the turn it proceeded slowly up my calf. I pulled and released still more material as it crawled up my leg. With no leg hair to speak of, the material wrapped around the soft skin and gave it a hint of color. It proceeded just above the knee before I performed the same routine with the left. Once even, I stood with her assistance and pulled the hose up around my buttocks before finishing just above the waist. Even with no breeze in the room, it felt as though my flesh was tingling under the slightly tight, translucent material. It perfectly fit my body like a glove, pressing down in all the right places and made my bony legs smooth and silky. I couldn’t help but run my hands up and down the wonderful material. I would have continued doing that for hours if mom hadn’t kept me on track and pull my attention way with the appearance of a box next to her. As she pulled the top off, I could see the flowing material of an outfit folded neatly inside the cardboard, a beautiful flowery pattern with edges of lace around the trim. In the heat of the moment, it was stunning. I couldn’t see it, but I wanted to hold it so bad.
Then the back door of the house slammed shut with a shudder. I thought I was in a panic but seeing the saucer sized whites of my mother’s eyes showed fear in her also.
"Stay here." She requested. After disappearing down the stairs, I felt suddenly vulnerable. One look in the mirror and I darted for the hall. Carefully making sure the coast was clear, I darted quietly into the master bath and quickly secured the lock, a neat feature the hall bath lacked. From the small room, I could hear voices downstairs through the register. Not heated conversation but rather pleasant words between mom and Scott. Minutes later, I heard the door open again downstairs and shut just and fast.
"Jamie . . . . Scott’s gone."
The voice was calm on the other side of the thin wood barrier.
"I understand you’re nervous, but so am I. We’ll have to face him again sooner or later. Not to mention dad. This isn’t going to go away any time soon."
In fact, from all the reports, the change not only seemed permanent but was continuing to progress to the fullest of femininity. I unlocked the door realizing she was right. Opening it a crack and seeing that the coast was clear, I stepped fully into the room again. My mom gasped at my appearance.
"You even thought about grabbing the dress in case Scott came up here?"
"No." was my reply. "I wanted to put it try it on real badly."
She smiled even wider and then commented on how I looked. The white and pink patterned dress was synched at the waist with a wide belt. Short sleeved with an even shorter skirt, it looked a little too formal. I hadn’t seen anything like it on the girls at school, but more at Easter time at church. Believe me, I was constantly envious of them all.
"Lastly, the shoes!" With one more trick up her sleeves, mom retrieved the last box and passed it to me. I sat down on the edge of the bed and cradled the box in my lap. I stared down fingering the edges of the cardboard, wanting to savor the moment. Convinced that the rush was at its peak, I slid the lid aside and set it on the bedspread. The shoes were wrapped in thin tissue and using my trembling fingers, I peeled the paper open and peered inside. I took a shallow breath, having caught myself holding the last one in. I recognized the shiny, black material.
"They’re black patent leather." Mom mentioned, as though anticipating my question. "I wasn’t sure which size, so I made sure they were too big rather than too small. They have a strap across the top, so they can be a bit on the large size."
She knelt down in front of me and removed one of the shoes from the box. Holding it out in front of me like a salesman at a store, I started to slide my toes inside the low heel pump. She didn’t need to sell me on them though. They were already sold. I had a thing for shoes. They were a soft spot for me. They came in so many colors, shapes and styles. Mom didn’t have a large wardrobe, but her shoe collection was a wonder to behold. Maybe not as many as in other women’s closets, but to me it was heaven. They were slightly oversized for my growing foot but this year they were beginning to look right, even if I continued to step out of them. This pair was different. With the foot gently wrapped in nylon, it slid beautifully inside, hugging the side of my foot and just grazing the heel. Even without the strap, they were a perfect fit. Mom took the strap and rolled it over in the small buckle near my ankle. She repeated the procedure with the second foot until both were gracefully adorned. She stood up as I continued to stare at the two feet pushed out in front of me, the black material reflecting every light in the room. My eyes rose a few more inches and from the other side of the room, a vision in the mirror stared back. A young woman was staring back where a boy once sat. The curls of hair covered my head, but even without makeup, I could barely recognize the reflection.
Mom let me savor the moment. She stepped aside and motioned towards the vanity in the bathroom. I stood up for the first time and stood rock solid. Despite what I’ve seen in commercials, television shows and movies where bumbling men cross-dress, I had no problem walking in heels. These were low, square heels and allowed walking with little concern for balance. Mom made a great choice. I followed her into the bathroom, where the heels clicked a few times on marble tile before I reached the rug inside. Even under the effects of the metamorphosis, that marvelous sound nearly drove me into a stiff erection. I had learned early on that part of the fetish I had for footwear was the echoing sound of the heels made on hard floors. I would step forward a tiny bit and plant the heel with a stiff click followed by the bottom clack of the sole. Maybe some of you can relate to it. No matter what I was doing or where I was, my eyes would seek out the source of that divine report. It was usually accompanied by a woman in a sharp business suit and skirt. It made the jealous streak in me run wild.
My opened the drawer with what she need and pulled up a second seat. I turned to face her and she quickly set to work, as though time was pressing. I could tell now that she was excited. Trying desperately to steady her hands, she forced herself to slow down, fearing she would put out one of my eyes with the liner pen she was carefully using to trace the narrow, black line. With the foundation set, powder applied and my eyes lined, she pushed the eyelash brush towards me. I had never tried to do it myself for fear of being found out, but the sensation of the brush moving up and down, hugging each hair was alluring. A few seconds passed on each eye and she returned it to the wild array of other objects in the drawer, where she retrieved yet another. The lipstick appeared with a twist. A very subtle shade of pink, it went on with a few half dozen swipes back and forth. Pursing my lips as she directed, she stood, took one step back and admired her work.
"Not much I can do with the hair, Jamie. We’ll have to let it just grow out."
The curls weren’t going any place soon. Convinced that her masterpiece was nearing completion, she pulled a slim and curvaceous bottle from the desk and sprayed the perfume on my neck and wrists. Finally, she placed a necklace around my neck and the deed was done, the small silver charm resting at the top of my newly exposed cleavage.
Not sure what to do, I looked up at her beaming face. She seemed pleased by the sight of the young lady sitting before her.
"Come out and take a look in the mirror."
I walked out of the bathroom, making sure of course to take as many steps as possible across the tile, and walked across the carpet. I heard a gasp and caught the young lady across from me start at the sight. In the years that I had first donned an article her or a shoe there, I had always dreamed of the day that I could fulfill the look completely. Not only had that been accomplished in dramatic fashion, but my own mother had helped in making the amazing transformation take place.
"I don’t know what to say." I said meekly, the strange voice even sounding the part.
"It’s something you’ll have to get used to in the future. Of course, it will become less of an event and more of a chore when you get older, but there will always be those special events to look special like parties during the holidays, Easter and weddings.
I had noticed the clipped word at the end of her last sentence and studied her face in the mirror. At the time, I didn’t understand that she was gaining a daughter she always wanted and as most daughter do, they eventually wear white and wed. The thought of never seeing it happen was quickly dashed and a sudden ray of light found its way into her life and now mine.
"Ready?" she asked.
"For what?" I asked, turning on my heels like and expert. I had my hands clasped in front of me in a feminine way.
"To meet the world, Jamie. Money’s tight, but you’ll need a few new outfits and other items. Some of your sweatshirts and jeans will still work for you, but I’m sure you outgrow them soon in one way or another."
My heart skipped a beat and then proceeded to thump wildly in my chest. The erection came on strong, but was hidden under the folds of the dress. I felt lightheaded at the prospect of going beyond a few items of clothing to going out in public. It was a weekday so the stores wouldn’t be jammed full of people, but still, we would run into people. Some of those people, as chance would have it, would recognize mom and want to talk. They wouldn’t recognize me from a distance, I was convinced staring again in the mirror, but being with mom might tip my hand. I looked up to meet her gaze in the glass and saw her nodding up and down with anticipation.
"You’re going to be in school in a month, Jamie. It might be easier if you met a few friends and let word spread before classes began. You’re going to the middle school this year, so many of the students won’t have known you before this happened."
She was right. My dream was to walk through society as a young woman, no one questioning my authenticity. The bug it seems had given me half dream on a silver platter. I would have to work through the rest on my own.
"Can we take this slow and go out of town the first time?"
We had some stores in town and I knew that many of moms friends worked in most of them.
"The mall?" she offered?
That rush came on full force again and I found myself short of breath. I was trying to avoid the stores in town and the mall, a few miles east, was even larger. I don’t know what scared me more. The idea seemed less threatening that shopping nearby and I consented.
"Let’s go!" she practically shrilled with excitement.
I followed her down the stairs, taking my time and around the corner into the kitchen, where both our pairs of shoes clicked on the linoleum at different pitches. She snapped up her purse and dug quickly for the keys.
"A purse. Have to remember to get you a purse." She said to herself, composing a list of items in her head. Mom pulled open the inside door and I hesitantly pushed through the screen door. I hadn’t expected to see anyone outside and was relieved to see nothing by birds swinging through the tree-sheltered backyard. The shoes ground nosily on the concrete and after locking the door behind her, she shot down the walk towards the van. I followed quickly but hesitated as I neared the edge of the house and would have come into the open of the street out front. I could see a bike roll by and scanned the street for any stragglers, I walked out and around the front of the vehicle, using it to screen myself as long as possible. Convinced that no one was in view, I shot around to the passenger side and reached for the door handle.
It was locked and I could hear voices behind me! I knocked on the window, hoping no to have been forgotten. I waited a moment and was near the point of darting back towards the house when I heard the locks click and I climbed quickly inside.
"Nail polish. Don’t let me forget to get you some polish."
I stared down at my hands. They were pretty beat up from all the horsing around during the summer. Not real feminine, I thought. I wondered next if the guys would let continue to play ball with them or I’d be relegated to the sidelines with the rest of the girls. Jenny played with us, after all, but she was more like a boy than a girl. These simple thoughts raced quickly away as mom started the engine and we backed into the street. We pulled away and found the street full of people. I continued to stare straight ahead and didn’t turn to look out the side. Mom tooted and waved, but thankfully didn’t slow. It appeared we were on a mission. Fortunately, it was only minutes before we were heading out of town and I could breathe easier for the moment.
How was I going to get through this?
Apparently, the question hadn’t been entirely to myself.
"It will get easier Jamie. Trust me. Once you quit hiding and everyone meets you, you’ll be a normal, young woman and everyone will forget. To blend in, just act relaxed and don’t look guilty. You look great and no one will treat you badly. Mommy will protect you." She turned for a moment, winked and we both giggled. She knew that kind of talk always elicited a response from me and if felt great to laugh at it all. I turned in time to see the first sign proclaiming the approach of the mall and even before it appeared on the horizon, the pangs of expectation were exploding inside me. This was the greatest chance of event in my life, and I felt as though I were about to step in front of my class to make a presentation. Strange how two sensations, both fed by fear, could feel so different inside.
"Five miles to go. Are you ready for this?"
"I am in you are." I replied with gusto. She took my trembling hand in her and we rode in silence as the driveway leading to the parking lot came into view. Looking at the sea of cars, I began to seriously doubt whether or not I was up for this.
"See. There’s hardly anyone here today."
I looked at her in amazement. True, there weren’t as many cars as there had been the day we came here just after last Thanksgiving, but we must have been looking at two different lots.
We drove down the first aisle and finding nothing close to the doors, mom turned around the corner and back up the next row. Even with the sun shining brightly and the front entranceway hidden partially in shadows I could see several people milling about the benches outside and a constant stream of people filtering in and out. A car pulled out halfway down our aisle and mom maneuvered into it without a problem. Without hesitating a second, she retrieved the keys, tossed them into her purse and exited the vehicle. It helped that she was so enthusiastic about this shopping trip and I knew that if I waited even a few more seconds, I wouldn’t find the courage to go voluntarily. You had to give my mom credit. She stood at the rear of the vehicle, purse lying over her shoulder, waiting for me to appear at my own speed. I pulled the handle and felt the door pop open. The sun was blazing, but the day outside was cool. Looking down and proceeding slowly, I lowered myself to the asphalt and felt my feet take a solid hold. I locked the door and slammed it shut, exhilarated and scared to death at the same time. My chest was tight and my two lungs were drawing air in shallow breaths. The clunk of the door all but signaled the lack of retreat on my part. Mom had the keys after all and climbing under the van didn’t really seem like a viable option at the time.
I appeared at the rear just as a car passed behind us. The man behind the wheel didn’t bother to look and his wife, I presume, looked over at us but showed no reaction. The car retreated around the bend and turned back towards us an aisle over. I watched as they parked and climbed out. They were also heading into the mall and walked towards the doors without saying a word or looking back in our direction. Mom was smiling at me, knowing by the look on my face that they hadn’t noticed a thing and I didn’t spontaneously combust right on the spot.
"You look very nice Jamie. They didn’t notice a thing. No one else will either. Just try and relax and act normal. You’ll be fine."
We started towards the doors, mom taking my hand in hers. I wasn’t carrying a purse, something I was sure to get used to doing, and was thankful to having something to preoccupy at least one of my hands.
"You know, it’s funny." She said, trying to make conversation in order to soothe our nerves, "But secretly, I had hoped for a girl after your three brothers were born."
Gee. That was it. Maybe I did have a source to blame for wanting to dress this way after all! I could go on TV now and exclaim to the world that indeed Freud had been right. Moms really were to blame for most things! I chuckled at the thought.
"What’s so funny?"
"Nothing. I’ll tell you later."
She was happy to hear me laugh considering the circumstances. A few more steps and we reached the end of the aisle. A bus had pulled up at the stop and I could see more people inside, none apparently wise to my approach. More cars rolled along the drive and they too passed without incident. With traffic clear and the bus pulling away, we stepped onto the curb and for the first time, I could see our reflections in the tinted doors ahead of us. The sun was shining down on us and the doors, hidden under the sheltered entrance, accurately showed our current likeness. Mom must have thought I caught a heel on the pavement but it was really a hesitant moment on my part.
"I’m alright. Just balked."
She released my hand and again, I felt exposed. A man pushed through the door in front of us and held it open and I, practically speed walking, shot through the opening a second ahead of my mother. Standing in the wide space between sets of door, my mom stepped forward and opened the second.
"Ladies can open their own door once in a while, you know. And they also say thank you when someone does it for them too."
"I know. He just caught me off guard."
"I imagined as much." She said as we stepped into the store. The main aisle was wide and we had entered into the women’s clothing department. Mom had made enough trips to know which entrance would have been most appropriate.
"Here. Let’s cut into the dress department for a few minutes." Mom recommended, motioning to our right. She must have noticed the look of terror on my face as several girls and their own mothers had rounded out of the other side and had come into the main aisle directly towards us. Not having to be asked twice, I followed her into the racks thirty feet before turning and watching the group push through the doors. The girls were around my age and as always, I envied the way they dressed, walked, talked and acted. It was a thrilling moment when I realized that I too could now do exactly the same thing. Looking down at my own outfit, I knew it was a little formal for just ‘malling’. One girl in particular had caught my eye. Her friends were wearing tight T-shirts, jeans and tennis shoes, but she had on a cute sundress and low heels. It wasn’t dressy in a typical sense, but it was just pretty. My mom had seen the group also, turning to see why I hadn’t followed.
"Did you see her?" I asked, sensing that she had worked her way up behind me.
"Very pretty. Did you like the outfit?"
Mom was always very astute. She knew which girl I was referring to without asking.
"Looks like we have a starting point."
I followed her out of the women’s dress department and across the main aisle, feeling as though I had given up my cover and were a deer making a rush across a four-lane hallway. The racks on the other side came up fast though and I was thankful for that. I had nearly lost all fear as the rush of excitement rose inside me again and I became distracted by all the clothes. Dresses of all sorts, mainly fall type for returning to school, were everywhere. I walked around them, wondering in all the varieties and colors and just running my hand across the soft material. Velvet, cotton, silk. It was wondrous feeling to know that I could pick out some of these and they would be mine. We would take them to the counter, mom would pay for them and we would leave the store with the items in tow. Going home, I would be able to wear them to my heart’s content.
"Jamie." Mom called to me, a few racks over. "I found something similar to what that young lady had on and it is clearance, but we should probably concentrate on getting you some clothes for school and for this fall. We can get something like this in the spring.
I took the edge of the material in my hand felt the soft cotton between my fingers. It was the same iridescent green color but the hem was longer and the cut had been different. Some how, in my hands, it wasn’t as alluring as it had been on her. I agreed and it went back on the rack. Mom stepped to her right and behind her, unnoticed by me at least, was another young lady shopping with her mother. She was sorting through the outfits as though it were simply a chore. When mom cleared from the aisle, she looked up down and did a double take back at me, standing only ten feet or so away from her. I froze, unsure of what to do. It must have seemed odd to the young lady who looked up again and said hello.
"Hi . . . ." I replied meekly, then turned on my heel and followed after mom.
"See? You didn’t combust."
I chuckled inside, imaging my guts all over the department. I might have survived my first encounter, but still felt as though combustion might ultimately be my fate.
We searched through the rack and after twenty minutes or so, we had selected several outfits. Excited that we were going to get them all, I waited for mom to head for the register.
"Here ya go."
"Thanks." I replied, taking them over one arm, continuing to stand at her side.
"Well? There’s the dressing room. Go try them on."
"What? You want me to go into the girls dressing room?" I peered in the direction of the doorway and noticed an occasional girl going in or coming out. Even from that angle, I could see the half doors on the front of each stall.
"You’re a girl now, Jamie. Just go in and pretend you belong there and this is all boring to you. Don’t daudle. Try them each on, check them out in the mirror and if you’re convinced you want on, come back out here and let me see you."
I hesitated, but headed that way after a few seconds. Trying to act as though I belonged, I picked a spot I wanted to go and headed after it, determined not to hesitate if I ran into someone. I had covered the distance without incident and was entering the opening when a young lady came around the corner and we headed in side by side. Not saying anything, we took stalls down at the end and I closed the door behind me. I breathed easier until I noticed that there was no mirror in the stall. It had been at the end of the dressing room hallway. I would have to try on each, step out for a moment and see if I liked it. I would find one that fit and that I liked and would return to the dress area to show mom. I could do this.
After undressing quickly, for fear of getting caught, I slid into the first and wrestled the buttons into place up the front. It was a little weird as they were stitched onto the other side from my ‘old’ clothing, which I had always found interesting. It was a size or two too big for me and without ties on the back it wouldn’t do. I didn’t even have to risk the mirror for this one. Despite mom’s usually great tastes, two of the five weren’t that attractive. Although I felt safe in the dressing room, I didn’t waste time even trying them on. The final two were attractive. Cotton in construction, each was blue in color. One was light blue with even lighter flowers across the material. Sleeveless, it hung perfectly and the zipper in the back pulled it around my thin frame perfectly. I undressed reluctantly and reached for the final dress. It had short sleeved and was blue, but without the patter across it. It buttoned up the front and tied in the back, just above my rear. Although it fit right around the waist, it was tight around the shoulders and chest. The thought that my bust was pushing against the inside of the dress was an erotic thought. Overall, the choice had been made easy for me. I slipped out of the final dress and stared at my reflection. It was a pleasant thought knowing how I looked until the stories of dressing room cameras in department stories hurried me to dress and leave the room in a panic. Despite an increase of people passing and milling about, I popped of the entrance and back into the dress department. Thankfully, mom was near the first rack and noticed my approach.
"No luck?" she asked, seeing my arms full of all five dresses.
"This one. I know you didn’t see it, but can I show it to you at home?"
"I don’t see why not" she commented. "How did they fit?"
I went through them one by one as I passed them back to her. She noted each comment, studied each tag and mentally noted the information for later retrieval. Placing the last back on the rack and with me clutching my prize, she turned and headed off to other parts of the store.
We repeated the process over and over several times, selecting a few pairs of slack, tops and sweaters. Not surprising, out tastes were similar. They weren’t overly feminine, but they would never be confused with the clothes I had at home. I wouldn’t stick out in a crowd. At least not by my choice of clothing anyway. Loaded down with the dress and several bags, thankfully sporting handles, we rounded a row and the shoe department came into view. It never failed to catch me during previous trips into the mall, but a visit in this case took on a significantly different air. Mom thankfully took a few extra bags and I began to inspect several pairs of shoes from every table and display. I was so enthralled by the wonderful site that I didn’t even react to the approach of a sales woman behind me.
"Can I be of assistance?"
Standing between the two women, facing my mother, I looked up to meet her gaze. My eyes may have given away fear, but I recovered fairly quickly.
"See anything you like dear?"
I tried to speak softly, but failed the first time. Pressing harder, I turned slightly, unable to look up at the woman a foot taller than I.
"Could I see these four, please?" I asked quietly, pointing towards the four sample, continuing to turn my gaze downwards at the table.
"In what size?"
"Eight" we replied both Mom and I supplying the number.
As the saleswoman turned to fulfill the request, we exchanged amused looks.
"Size eight, eh? Mine probably close to fitting then!" She was trying to lighten the moment again I knew, my a slight feeling of guilt resurfaced. I set the packages down, as directed and took a seat as mom directed. The woman exited the back room and headed our way.
"Seems you have a shoe fetish like your mother!" she noted, a second or two before the saleswoman returned and knelt down before me. We were both giggling at the last comment as she withdrew the first pair and helped me slid into the low healed pumps. Although not patent in type, they were also black, the three-inch heel tapering to a professional looking point at the bottom. Without a strap to hold it in place, however, and despite a slightly wider foot than a ‘normal’ woman, the hose wrapping my foot allowed it to slip slightly as I took several trial steps. I tried on the other pairs and found each a perfect fit. They certainly weren’t my favorite tennis shoes at home, I noted to mom as the saleswoman went to retrieve a size seven pump. Noting that fact, after trying on the smaller size pump and adding it to the pile, I selected a simple, canvas tennis shoe built on a slight platform in white and considered this stop a rousing success. Seeing commissions before her, she snatched up the boxes and asked if there was anything else. I tossed mom my best ‘pleading eyes’ look and she caved in, agreeing that we would take them all. We headed for the register where I finally found the courage to look up at the woman who helped us for more than a fleeting second or two. The credit card machine did its thing while we stood patiently waiting.
"Getting a head start on shopping for school?" she asked me directly, somewhat embarrased by the amount of time the sale was taking. I looked up to meet her eyes, nodded affirmatively and replied with a soft "Yes."
"These won’t be on sale next week, but we’ll have plenty of others."
Feeling bolder, I told her that we would definitely be back.
Mom signed the slip and looked over at me while we collected all our wares.
"You’re adapting very well, Jamie. . . . I’m very proud of you."
"Thanks. It’s getting easier."
We approached the edge of the main aisle and stepped out onto the tile. The sound of our heels would probably get old, especially when I didn’t want to attract attention, but at that moment it was still music to my ears. I turned like an expert but mom wasn’t beside me. I looked over my shoulder and saw that she had turned in the other direction, the opening to the mall itself framing her tall figure. She motioned with her head.
"Let’s grab an early dinner. I’ll call dad before we leave and make sure he and Scott aren’t home when we get there. You’ll have to find a place for all this stuff." She said, holding up several bags in each hand, "and I’ll formulate a speech to get your father prepared before you come down."
Several other shoppers stepped around me, one young man looking back at me as he passed. I met his eyes for a split second, noted his smile and turned my own back to moms anticipating gaze. I stepped forward and we crossed into the mall together, a mother and daughter duo on a mission. Most of the quick eateries were at the center, organized around the food court, but each wing had their own restaurants. I could see, or more correctly hear, the rush of people in the central court, but mom took it easy on me during our first trip here and directed me towards the ‘fern bar’ next to the store. It had all the usual stained glass, dark booths and copper railings of most restaurants of its type and as we approached, a young lady appeared at the hostess stand. I recognized her from the area, even though she was five or so years older than I, and as we approached, I positioned mom partially between us.
"Two. Non-smoking please."
We followed her to the back area and took a booth in the corner as directed. Realizing that she didn’t want my brain to overload, mom took the seat facing the restaurant and I nervously found the other. I opened the menu and stared mindlessly at the words while the hostess rattled off the specials. Mom thanked her and began to read her own menu when the waitress approached the table. We ordered diet drinks and after her return, we put in an order for salads and a cheese stick appetizer. I needed to think of my figure now after all!
I checked out the restaurant over my shoulder from the relative safety of my seat. A few unsuspecting couples sitting nearby. Looking down again, I could see that I was still wearing the dress I had started out with. After nearly three hours, I was catching myself relaxing, even my first time at the mall. I had often dreamed of dressing up and doing this very thing, but the thought that I would be eating in a restaurant was even beyond my imagination. If I had been in a store, I could always rush out. Walking through the wide aisle of the mall, I could always find an exit. But here, in a restaurant with meals ordered, I knew we couldn’t just get up and bolt for safety. It was all very exciting and beyond my wildest dreams. Not only had I met the challenge of blending in, I had a chance to do it with my mother. I’m sure meeting my friends and classmates would be difficult, but I wouldn’t be the only one in this situation. Family would be another matter, but those could come in ones and twos since we never really had many in our neck of the woods. I couldn’t wait until we sent out this years Christmas card with our picture in it!
I caught a reflection in the glass above mom’s head and was savoring the soft cheese sticks with ranch dressing when a woman approached the table. It wasn’t our waitress. Mom and the woman exchanged greetings and a few words about the family. She knew her, but not all that well. I was beginning to think I was thankfully invisible when mom waved a hand towards me in the booth opposite her. I knew her habit of proper etiquette would win out.
"Linda. This is my daughter Jamie."
"Hello Jamie. Nice to meet you."
"Thank you." I replied, extending my hand. She took mine in hers.
The waitress came by with lunch and mom’s friend bid us farewell. Salads in hand, we dug in and munched away. We talked in between bites about various things. Mom continued to marvel at the thought that she had named me, in contrast to my brothers, with a name that worked equally well for either a boy or girl. She then told me how much she had wanted a girl after three boys. I told her that I should blame her for this predicament. We both laughed heartily at that comment, as I knew we would once I came out with it. I questioned her on various things, such as meeting her friend Linda. Should I have shook hands or just nodded and said hello? Do women even shake hands? She explained that there was nothing wrong with it these days and that in business it was expected. I would have to do it in a more feminine manner, however and we practiced at that table a few times until I felt confident I had it down.
The waitress returned ten minutes later as we wrapped up the salads, we declined on dessert and mom paid the bill. We rose from the booth and grabbed our packages. The restaurant had filled up quite a bit with an early dinner crowd while we had eaten and I got a lot of practice trying to blend in while we exited. Popping out into the mall again past the line waiting to eat, we wandered back into the anchor store we started out in early in the day. I spotted a counter to my left and we headed in that direction. The case was filled with stylish looking sunglasses and I quickly found a pair I liked. Worked out that they were the cheapest on display, much to mom’s surprise. I told the young lady at the counter that I’d wear them out. She removed the tags, handed them to me and accepted my magical charge card. I could now see the world through different eyes. In a way, I could check out the people around me while hiding behind the sunglass lenses. It kind of hid my identity even more, I thought, checking myself out in the mirrored column near the mall exit. I still couldn’t believe the reflection staring back at me. This all had to be a wondrous dream. Convinced I was finally done admiring myself, mom motioned me over to a table and had me pick out my last purchase of the day. I looked over the small collection of purchases and chose one in basic, black leather. The rest looked like luggage to me, due to their size. Mom knew which one I’d select.
"You’ll want one bigger than that." She said. "That’s for special outing. Here’s one that similar." I took it and after finding nothing wrong with the purse, nodding an acceptance to her choice. There was not way I was going to be able to fill it, pondering the voluminous depths, but it would turn out to be a marvelous choice I would later recall. Once mom paid for it, the cashier had bagged the purchase and we were headed out of the mall, we stopped and mom unwrapped it. Tucking the bag inside the purse to fill it out, she pulled off the tags and handed it to me. I put my left arm through the straps and slung it over my shoulder.
"It’ll get a lot heavier." She said, winking as we pushed through the doors. With my new clothes, shades and a loftier attitude, we passed people coming in without worry. I felt like a new woman in fact, perhaps due to the disguising sunglasses, when we nearly reached our car and a voice called out. Even without looking, we both recognized the voice as our neighbor, Mrs. Johnson. Mom popped the latch on the back of the wagon and we loaded our wares inside as she approached.
"Hello Kim." Mom said cheerfully.
"Hello. How are you doing Linda?"
"I’m fine. How is the family doing."
"Everyone’s fine." She said, relaying everything that was going on with her family. We lived on the same street after all and I was friends with two of her children. When she was done, she acknowledged my existence with a glance and asked what we were up to.
"Out school shopping?" she asked either of us, apparently none the wiser of my new identity. "I’m a neighbor of Linda’s, Kim Johnson." I extended my hand first and she took it in hers.
"I’ve met you several times Mrs. Johnson. It’s me Jamie."
Confused for a moment she looked at me first and then my mother.
"I’ve changed quite a bit since you saw me several weeks ago." I said, confident that my new appearance was catching her off guard. It was a first for the day where someone else was more unsure of their surroundings than I was. I felt bolder in a way. It had to be the shades, I thought, continuing to note the questioning look on Mrs. Johnson’s face.
"Like the others?" she managed to finally ask.
"Yes." I replied.
"Well. You caught me off guard, but I have to say that you look great. I know you could have introduced yourself as a niece or cousin and I wouldn’t have guessed otherwise." A few more words and she quickly departed. We both knew word was going to spread fast at this point. In a way, it would be easier to have others prepared before I ran into them unexpectedly.
"Ready?"
I nodded and we climbed inside. Juggling her cell phone while she drove down the narrow aisle, she punched in our home number and waited for a few rings.
"Hi. You’re home already."
She listened for a few seconds before continuing.
"Is Scott there? OK. Tell you what. Jamie and I have a surprise for you, but it’s going to take a little prep work so you’ll have to bear with us. When we pull in the drive I’ll toot. If Scott’s there with you, can you grab him and slip downstairs for a minute?" She listened again for a few seconds before telling him that she wasn’t giving clues and there would be no hints. A few more words were exchanged before she hung up. Minutes later, we turned onto our street and into the drive. Mom honked a few times and since no one else was out, we didn’t attract any undue attention. She put it in park and shut off the ignition.
"Stay here and I’ll wave if the coast is clear. Grab the rest of the bags on your way in and head upstairs. I’ll call you when I’ve laid it all out for him, OK?"
The relaxed calm I had managed to develop late in our trip was erased as dad’s reaction began to worry me. Without a response from me, she climbed out, retrieved several of the packages and headed inside the back door. Moments later, she came out and waved me inside. I grabbed the remaining items and hustled along the walk and into the kitchen. I reached my room in seconds and added my bags to those mom had already laid down in one corner. I shut my bedroom door, but kept it slid just a crack so I could hear the shouts I predicted would be coming from downstairs. Mom must have retrieved dad from the basement as I could now hear mom’s voice reaching to my room.
One minute passed and then two. I couldn’t hear anything but mom at the moment and that was disconcerting. Dad was either taking it well or bottling up an explosive reaction inside. I had never heard him lose his cool before so I was hoping for the best. Eventually, I heard an interjection by a deeper voice, presumably questions to various parts of the story mom was unraveling. In all, nearly twenty minutes had passed before mom called up the stairs.
"Jamie. Will you please come down now?" It wasn’t really a question I could refuse.
After drawing in a full breath, I talked myself into a solid state of mind, opened the door further so I could walk through and began down the steps, one at a time. The carpet muffled my heels as I progressed downward and slowed to a stop as I neared the bottom of the stairs, hesitating just a tad before rounding the corner and pushing on into the kitchen where my parents tended to engage in their most serious talks. Not yet finding the courage to continue my eyes swept into the front room, contemplating a quick escape out the front door. As it turned out, they were sitting on the sofa, facing in my direction and had gained several seconds on me before I realized it. My eyes met dads and locked on. Swallowing hard, I walked into the room but lost the ability to keep my chin up until I sat in a chair along an adjacent wall. My gaze rose to mom where I could see a smile across her face. Proud would have been my choice if I had to guess at her feelings at that moment.
"You look nice Jamie." Dad said. The comment caught me off guard and I turned to him. It was more accepting than I had dreamed possible during my short stint upstairs while waiting to be called.
"Thank you." Was the best I could muster. I continued to sit perfectly still, my feet crossed at the ankles underneath the chair and hands clutched in my lap.
"You’re mother said this started nearly two weeks ago. I hope you know you could have come to us with this." He said softly, much like the talk the three of us had on drugs last year. I felt a slight twinge of guilt, but this wasn’t about hiding the fact that I had hit on a joint, for instance.
"I know." I replied. Over the span of the next hour, I relayed what had happened over the last two weeks and rolled right on into a story of the day’s events. Dad listened intently, smiling and laughing along with us. We concluded our official talk with dad relaying how difficult this would initially be for all of us but that we would get through it together. Mom changed the subject of food as dad hadn’t had time to eat before our arrival and didn’t go out as mom first suggested because she was afraid that word would reach dad before we had had time to explain the situation to him in the privacy of our home. Thankfully, it had worked out well.
As we rose from the couch, we moved towards the kitchen together, coming closer at the bottleneck below the staircase. As he had often done, he put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed slightly. I wasn’t sure how my brother’s would react, Scott in particular, but both parents had accepted the new me and that was all I needed to know for certain.
"I’m going to go upstairs and unpack." I said, looking to find a few seconds for myself.
"Hope you’re not tired of mac and cheese?" mom asked dad as I headed upstairs. "Because we warped the plastic quite a bit today."
I heard them laugh as they entered the kitchen. I reached my room and began to find places for my new belongings. As it turned out, Scott arrived late and mom repeated the explanation over again, this time with dad next to her. He had created a lot of noise when he came in, but I soon drifted off to sleep, a new life waiting for me the next day. A visit to the doctor would be scheduled and then an interview with the scientists no doubt would follow. Forms wouldn’t have to be filed to change my name, but corrections of gender would have to be made.
When the day broke the next morning, I found the energy to rise early and got ready, getting dressed, doing what little I could with my hair and trying to repeat the makeup process as mom had showed me. Mom and dad were already downstairs having breakfast and as expected, Scott was still asleep. I had managed to nearly finish my own meal before we heard my brother stir to life upstairs. He didn’t bother to shower, but threw on a T-shirt and shorts and came down to greet us. His eyes were at half-mast, but what was open, searched and then trained on me, sitting at the table.
"Morning" he mumbled, getting the paraphernalia together for cereal and joined us at the table, taking the seat directly across from me as he did at every meal. He set to work and life pretty much went on as normal. I didn’t know how to feel really. Relieved? Angry? I would have to sort it out later as the morning and day progressed as it was going to be a full agenda of activities. Doctors, scientists and even a makeup aisle at the local drug store awaited my arrival today. My doctor could find nothing really wrong, save for the unusual remnants of my manhood being reabsorbed into my body and proclaimed me to be healthy. The scientists seconded the opinion. Before we could get to the drugstore, however, The CDC wanted me to point out exactly where I had been stung. They weren’t ready to conclude that the sting had caused the transformation, but upon hearing my detailed story and how I had correlated the two incidents, they phoned the others and had managed to elicit similar information once the proper questions were asked. Dad had mowed three times since the incident occurred, but fate shined on us that day. The creature, which had stung me that day and died due to my response, had fallen into the flowerbed instead of the lawn. It looked like a normal wasp to those immediately viewing the specimen, but tests would be run to find out for sure. It would come out in the press weeks later that the creature was an African variety that had been inadvertently released, along with its colony, into the wild by a local breeder. Having no competition in the area, the queen had gone about its routine of stinging her male drones and converting them over to breeding females in order to build a population as quickly as possible. There had been only one queen and I had dispatched her. There would be no other mysterious transformations in our small town. The scientists left as soon as the case was closed, the newspapers turned towards the upcoming elections once my story faded from the front page and beginning that day of doctor’s appointments, my new life started anew. Neighbors had stopped by over the next week to find out what all the activity was around our house. In truth, they had known the full story from Mrs. Johnson, but wanted to see me for themselves. Once the town was declared safe for all by the CDC, they began to bring their kids over to meet me as well. Undoubtedly, they had had talks amongst themselves before coming over, in order to make the introductions as smooth as possible. Some were easier than others. A couple friends I thought I knew, never really came around much after that while still more, seemed to make an appearance more frequently. I guess you really do find out a lot about people when significant changes occur in your own life. I seemed to find even more friends when I started school that fall. There were a few difficulties, but in all it happened fairly easily. I had met two others who had also undergone the transformation and we grew close, now attending the same middle school. One was now in high school while the last had moved away with their family. The town in which we lived had proven my doubts wrong and had embraced me and the others with little fanfare. I’m glad my family was there for me as well. My older brothers visited not soon after the news had broke across the country. Mom had, of course, prepared them before hand and they too were as supportive as one could have expected. Dad still had his three boys but we had gotten along better now than we ever had. Mom had the daughter she had always prayed for while I now had the life I had always dreamed about. Life was going to be great.
© 2000
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