Remix

by Brevdravis

 

Wardobe was beginning to become a problem for James. Dejectedly, he tried pair after pair of his pants, noting how each of them reached the same point on his legs before they became uncomfortably tight. They were not too long, since he had not lost a centimeter of his height, but the crushing sensation about his hips made the garments virtually unwearable. Admitting defeat, he retrieved the pair of sweatpants that he had worn the previous day from his hamper and tugged them on. It was a bit warm for them, but it was better to have clothing that fit, after all.

Shirts were much easier to work with. If anything, all of the items in his collection seemed to hang slightly loose on his shoulders. Going with the casual look, he selected a white t-shirt featuring an image of Bloom County characters shouting, "Ahead Warp Zillion!!!!" It seemed to be appropriate.

After finishing his wardrobe, he again pulled his hair back into a ponytail, still slightly amazed at the length that it had reached. Trying to hide a bit of it, he pulled on his leather jacket, with the ponytail underneath. It restrained his head movement only slightly, and concealed the bulk of his follicles.

"You're not going out like that." was the only response from his mother upon spying his clothing selections, when he entered the main room.

"I want to be comfortable." James replied, trying to appeal to Anne's sense of fairness. It fell short.

"I am not going to take you to the hairdresser with you looking like that." Anne ordered, pointing towards his room. "You go up there right now and change into something that you haven't worn recently."

"Nothing fits." James tried the half-truth, hoping that it would work.

"Fine, I'll get you some pants." Anne replied, striding in the direction of her own room. After a few moments she returned, and handed James a pair of slacks. "Try these."

"Uh, these are yours, mom." James was about to continue his objection, when he noticed the angry look in his mother's eyes. Meekly, he ascended the stairs.

Once in his room, James shucked the sweatpants, and slid the tan slacks over his legs. The feeling was different as the garment easily slipped over his hips. The button was not what he was used to, fastening from the opposite side. Unlike his own pants, there were feelings of tightness in several areas. The crotch was slightly uncomfortable, as it pressed against his member in an awkward embrace. Apart from that, the pants rode his hips, rather than his waist. The weren't tight, but the length of the leg was a little short. James selected a different shirt as well, this one a light grey polo. It was loose, like the t-shirt had been, so he did not even bother removing the t-shirt, wearing it like an undershirt.

This time when he descended the stairs, his mother looked him up and down with an appraising eye. She nodded softly, before observing his jacket with disdain.

"Do you have to wear that?" She asked, gesturing at the garment. It didn't really match with the rest of the outfit, and gave his shape a blockier outline.

"C'mon mom, I changed the pants and the shirt." James groaned, expecting that he would be forced to make another ascent.

"All right, fine. But we're getting you a new jacket before you go off to Moscow." Anne's sharp look had changed to one of slight amusement.

James exited the house after his mother. They entered the aged station wagon, and left the driveway.

"So have you thought about what kind of haircut you want?" Anne asked, looking at the ponytail that James wore.

"Short."

"Oh, a pageboy, or something like that?"

"Shorter."

"Maggie, I am not going to have you getting a boy's haircut."

"Mom, it's just going to grow out again." James groaned at the sound of his new name. He desperately did not want to respond to it, but there was no denying the inevitable.

"So, you want to look nice, don't you?" Anne asked, turning the car onto a sidestreet.

"I..... I suppose."

"We'll compromise. Shoulder length. Okay?" Anne's offer was at least a step in the right direction. If worst came to worst he could always just shave his head at home.

"All right." James finished, looking at the parking lot where they had stopped. This wasn't the usual place that he had come to get his haircut as a young man. Usually he had just forked over ten bucks to the mall store and let them at his head with a set of clippers. The shop in front of where the car sat was a full fledged beauty parlor.

Anne removed the keys from the ignition, and undid her seatbelt, sliding out of the car. She shut the door, and waited patiently for James. James, for his part, took a deep breath, whispered "non carborendum illegitimi", and stepped out on his side. He allowed his mother to lead the way into the foreign territory.

"Hi, Anne! Haven't seen you in a while." A thin, red haired woman looked up from the head of hair she was working on as they entered. "This must be Maggie!" The woman's arm came up in a greeting.

Anne and the woman exchanged pleasantries, going over numerous topics as the red-haired woman clipped away at her customer. James reflected that hair that bright red had to be from a bottle. In fact, the proprietor looked as if she was her own best customer, since he was easily able to count six earrings in her right ear alone.

"Okay, Betty, whaddya think?" The woman addressed her customer again, holding a small mirror up.

Betty was obviously pleased with her haircut, gushing out several compliments, before laborously printing out a check. After a few more pleasantries, the red-haired woman was paid, and Betty practically skipped out, primping slightly as she left.

"So, what brings you here today, Maggie?" The woman addressed him. Anne merely nodded at James, waiting for him to speak.

"I.... uh..... wanted to get a haircut?" James proferred.

"Well, that's why I'm here!" The woman smiled again, cleaning up clumps of hair from the floor with a small dustpan and broom. "What do we have to work with?"

Shrugging off his jacket, James pulled his ponytail around his shoulder to show the full length of his hair. The woman's eyes brightened as she saw it, and a broad smile crossed her face.

"Wow, that looks nice already! What were you thinking? A little color maybe? Lightening? Here, have a seat." She gestured towards another chair, in front of a basin with a shower nozzle attached.

"She wants to lose some length, Denise." Anne offered from her seat. James noticed that she had picked up a copy of People, and was reading it intently.

"But it's so nice!" Denise sighed as James leaned back in the chair. Denise's hands quickly came around the back of his head, removing the rubber band with a deft move and spilling the blonde tangles into the basin. "You don't really want to lose all that much, do you?"

"It's a bit of a pain, really." James watched as Denise quickly adjusted the water temperature and tested it against the back of her hand. Shrugging, she began to run the showerhead through his hair, soaking every strand fully.

"Let me guess. Boyfriend doesn't like it." Denise said, staring into James's face, as she worked. She reached for something out of sight, and then James felt her hands again, scrubbing at the hair she had just soaked. "Some guys just don't appreciate how much work goes into long hair."

"It's not that, really." James tried quietly. Didn't she realize he was a guy? Wasn't the lack of tits a big enough giveaway?

"Suuuure, it isn't." Denise smirked, as she rinsed his hair again with the nozzle. "High school guys can be such a pain."

"Actually, Maggie's going to college this fall." Anne's voice sounded a little far off, since the basin where his head lay blocked a bit of the sound.

"Oh, fun! What's your major?" Denise asked, reaching for some other substance. He felt her hands again on his scalp, rubbing something else into his hair.

"I'm not sure yet." James answered, trying to stay nonchalant. What the hell were they, girlfriends? He half wanted to tell her to take her questions and shove them up her ass. However, the presence of his mother kept that thought strictly in his own mind.

Denise's strong hands began to twist his hair, squeezing the remnants of water from the strands. The scent of the various products was pleasant. James was momentarily stunned by how nice everything smelled in here. He had never noticed it before.

"Okay! Up!" Denise lifted James' hair out of the basin and let it hang loose. She gestured towards the chair that had been occupied only a few minutes before. "Have a seat."

He did so. With a smile, Denise fastened a small piece of gauze about his neck, before pulling a large plastic sheet up. It covered his body, wrapping about his neck. He stared at the face in the mirror, with the long hair streaming straight down from his scalp.

"So, how much are we losing? Here?" Denise marked a small point about six inches from the tips of his hairs.

"A lot more." James replied, watching her hand rise slowly. "More. More. More."

Denise's hand was about even with the bottom of his shoulderblades at this point.

"Keep going."

"He's not worth it, Maggie." Denise stated, a look of concern crossing her face. "Why don't you think about this for a while?"

"Keep going. Shoulder length." James insisted, his eyes flashing up to meet hers in the mirror.

"Anne! Talk to her. Is she absolutely sure she wants to throw this much work away?" Denise called over her shoulder to James' mother, who was watching intently.

"Are you sure about this, Maggie?" Anne asked, a smile on her face.

"YES! Can you please just cut my hair?" James addressed the comment to both his mother and Denise. What was it? This wasn't a major emotional trauma, he was just getting his hair cut for Christ's sake!

"Okay..." Denise said after a moment, picking up a small pair of shears. "Seems like such a waste though." With that final comment, she began to make small snips.

James watched impassively as the hair began to fall away. Denise worked quickly, talking all the while to Anne, and him as well. Her topics ran the gamut, from discussions of her boyfriend, to how her job was going, to oh god did you hear about what Jenny Richards did at Doc Ricketts last night? James tried to stumble through, but the vast majority of the references eluded him. His mother had no such problem, discussing each topic as if it was the solution to world hunger.

Slowly, but surely, the final shape of James' hair took shape. Denise had chosen a point at his shoulders to make the final cut. She left most of the rest of the hair static, parting it in the middle. She then blow dried the strands, and finished it with a slight amount of mousse. Looking at himself in the mirror, James realized that she had given him "the Rachel."

"Ugh, I loathe the Rachel." James groaned. "Could we try parting it on the left?"

"The what, babe?" Denise asked, a look of confusion on her face. James realized that "Friends" hadn't gotten extremely popular yet. Denise probably thought she was being original.

"Never mind, but I don't like my hair parted in the middle." He tried again.

"That's easy." Denise responded, quickly flipping the part in his hair towards the right with a deft motion of her comb. "How's that?"

"Better." James replied. Actually it was.... pretty darned good. The cut framed his face perfectly, showing off his forehead and accentuating his eyes.

"It looks great!" Anne crowed, coming up behind Denise and James. "Maggie, I think it's wonderful."

"Thanks, mo......Anne." James stuttered over the word, realizing that she had probably not told Denise that he was her... daughter.

Smiling, Anne wrote a check to Denise, who smiled in response. Denise brushed the few remaining hairs off of the cover, then undid it from James' neck. She smiled as James and Anne turned to leave, and began sweeping up the piles of hair on the floor.

"You did very well." Anne said as they entered the car again. "I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks, mom." James answered, looking back at the little shop.

"So, are we getting lunch for the shows?"

"Please." James replied, noticing how his stomach had began to growl. "Uh, mom?"

"Yeah?" Anne looked over at him as she turned the car out of the parking lot.

"Denise didn't know I was a guy, did she?" His comment was soft, his gaze still on the beauty parlor.

"No. No she didn't."

 

***

"Slow down, honey. Your sandwich isn't going to run away if you put it down for two seconds."

"Mom, I'm trying to watch the play here." James said, around the mouthful of ham, turkey and roast beef sandwich, piled high with Italian dressing, lettuce, onion. Nothing was quite like that sandwich. Today was the first time he had had it, in well, forever. It was all he could do to prevent himself from wolfing the entire construction down in a few barely chewed bites. What had really gotten to him was the smell. The guys at the deli must have done something different, because the various scents of the meats and vegetables had coalesced into a whole that was infinitely more pleasing than each individual piece.

Theatrefest, the day's activity, was, as usual, cliche. The costumes were obviously dug out of the back of some prop room, and the first gag during the fairy tales portion of the proceedings had been Cinderella coming out to wash the floors in a t-shirt featuring the heavy metal band, uh, Cinderella. That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the activity.

On the small stage now, there was a rather tortured depiction of a "Human Chess Game." The moves and dialogue were pretty much just a set up for heavily choreographed sword-fights, but it was interesting at least.

"Are you on your second one already?" Anne asked, her attention wavering back and forth between the play and James, stuffing his face.

"Mmmhmm...." he replied, as he chewed. Swallowing the delectable morsel of food, he slurped a healthy swig from the Snapple iced tea on the bench next to him. The lemon flavor was an interesting counterpoint to the vinegar still present in his mouth.

"Should I just set up a trough in the kitchen?" Anne grimaced at her daughter's behavior. She tried to distract herself by laughing along with the rest of the crowd at a particularly vile pun by one of the onstage actors.

"I'm just hungry...." James nearly was whining, as he took the last bite of his sandwich. The void in his stomach had disappeared for now, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before it would return.

"Honey, I know you are, but that doesn't mean you should be eating like a pig." Anne's chatisement was not undeserved. James knew that over the past few days the only thing that he had been doing with food had been to shovel it down as fast as possible, then look for more. The rumble in his stomach had ceased for now, but there was a slight pressure lower down on his abdomen.

"Ok, sorry mom. I'll be right back." James tossed the apology and the statement off almost in the same breath.

"Where are you going?" Anne asked as James stood up from the wooden bleachers where they were seated.

"Men's room." he replied, turning to leave.

"Uhm, Maggie? I think the other facilites might be more appropriate."

"Huh? Oh, fine... sure." James was really getting sick of this. Yet another variation in his daily routine. Ladies room?

"Hurry back, I'll save your spot." Anne replied sweetly as James walked off. Even that was beginning to get annoying, as his pants pulled in different areas with every motion. He moved past the bleachers towards a small corridor at the far end of the plaza. At the end of the corridor were two doors, leading to the respective men and womens rooms. James noted with some distress the four women in line.

"Oh fuck." James growled as he looked enviously at the apparently empty men's room. He still had the equipment, didn't he? Why the hell did he have to wait in fricking line to take a piss? The minutes ticked away as James began to feel the pressure in his lower stomach increasing. The first woman in line, then the second went in. Another woman came up behind him, extending the line down the corridor. James growled with frustration as a man breezed past, walking directly into the men's room.

Time dragged. Finally, when the pressure on his bladder wall was becoming painful, the door opened. James practically ran in, slamming the door behind him. He hurriedly undid his pants, and took care of the urgent need.

A few moments later, washing his hands in the sink, he reflected on why women went to the bathroom in groups. Company for the fricking line.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he undid the bolt on the door, and opened it, stepping out into the corridor. The next woman in line quickly shut the door after breezing past him. He smirked slightly, recalling how he had been in exactly that postion a few minutes ago. He walked down the corridor, towards the plaza.

Lounging near the end of the corridor, a young kid with long black hair looked up at James' approach.

"Hey, babe. How's James?"

"Huh?" James asked, turning to look down at the kid. He had to be about sixteen, wearing a dark trenchcoat that was totally out of place with the hot summer weather. He barely came up to James' chin.

"You're wearing his jacket." The kid gestured towards the one sleeved bomber that James wore. "You his girlfriend?"

"Huh? No, no. I'm not." James recalled this kid. He was one of the Alvarado Rats. His name escaped James, but even back in the time that he had hung out with them, he never knew all of their names.

"Cool. You doing anything?" The expression on the kid's face changed from curiousity, to a self-confident smirk. " 'Cause if yer not, I was thinking you might want to hang out."

James had the unpleasant thought that this kid was looking at him like he was a side of beef. He knew exactly what "Hang out" meant to the Rats. It meant go over to one of their houses, whoever's parents weren't home, get drunk and have sex. From first to last, it was something that did not appeal to James whatsoever.

"No thanks." James said, about to move past the trenchcoat mafia member, when he realized that the kid was blocking his path. "Uhm, excuse me."

"Whoa, hold up, babe." The kid said, acting cool and suave. Actually it appeared to James that the kid was attempting to appear stoned. "What's yer name?"

"It's really none of your business, now EXCUSE ME." James said again, attempting to get the arrogant little snot to move.

"Hey, c'mon babe, I'm just making conversation." The kid rested a foot against the wall, completely blocking the narrow corridor.

Unwilling to deal with the little shit any longer, James shoved past, knocking the barricading foot out of the way with his arm as he did so. He was bigger than the kid, and the action caused the youth to lose his balance, causing his arms to flail rapidly as he slumped to the ground on his ass.

"FUCKING DYKE!" James heard the epithet but paid no heed as he stormed across the plaza. The chutzpah of that kid had infuriated him. It wasn't enough that he had to wait in line for bathrooms, he now had to deal with guys trying to pick him up on the way out!

"Well, you took a long time." Anne commented as James returned to his seat in the bleachers.

"Line." The one word response conveyed the entire scene to Anne, who nodded in response.

"Get used to it, honey." Anne shrugged. "There's going to be a line whenever you go out to something big."

James just nodded, thinking about how much time that would add up to, waiting in line to take a leak. Onstage, the black team had just made checkmate, and was crowing about it in classic theatrical style. James watched for a moment, feeling his eyes starting to get heavy. The feeling came on suddenly, with no warning whatsoever.

"Mom..." James asked, turning to Anne.

"Yes, Maggie?" Anne looked at him, watching the wide yawn split his lips. "Tired? Do you want to go home?"

"Unless you just want me to go sleep in the car." James offered.

"No, you need real rest." Anne stated, rising to her feet. She collected the few plastic bags in which they had brought their lunch. They walked towards the local bike path that separated the plaza from the parking lot. James watched the people as he walked, noting a woman in spandex on a bicycle, racing past. He noted the curve of her leg as it sloped up. Was he going to be a dyke? He still found women beautiful, but he noticed that his gaze tended to drift towards the general shape of their bodies now, and less towards the chest. Shrugging, he followed his mother, trying to keep his exhausted eyes open.

 

 

James did not recall having any dreams. His hands came up to rub at his face as he recalled how he had collapsed into bed only a few moments after arriving home yesterday. The light streaming in the window brought home how long he had slept. It must have been only four or five in the afternoon when he went to bed the previous day. The reflected light on the roofs of the houses showed it was indeed morning.

Sunday. James groaned at the thought. The last thing that he wanted to do was to attend mass. Already he was having enough trouble with his life that he didn't need to bring God into it as well. For a long time, he hadn't been on speaking terms with God, and he had no intention of opening up that can of worms again with his new life.

He dropped his hand to lay across his chest. His eyes still closed, James could feel the softness. He didn't want to open his eyes, for he could feel the warmth under his palm. He knew what he would see if he looked down. He would see more evidence of his female transformation. He would have to see the fact that he now had a pair of tits.

Unable to delay the inevitable any longer, he opened his eyes. There, beneath the t-shirt he had worn to bed, he could see the large bulges that lay on his chest. His hands came up, almost of their own accord, and pressed against them. They were definitely real. The warmth that ran through his chest as he did this was strange. The same chill that had run through him the day before when he had taken off his shirt ran up his spine again.

He closed his eyes again, a tear forming in each. His hands came up to cover his face, which clenched in a horrid grimace.

"Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!" James said aloud, the words echoing in the room. He could already feel that he had no morning wood as well, and he dreaded the thought of looking down further.

"Get up, James." He said to himself. "It's not going to change anything if you sit in bed all day." The logic was correct, but James did not want to face logic. What he wanted was to run screaming through the house, cursing himself for ever thinking that one letter wouldn't make that much of a difference.

He brushed his hand back through his hair, noticing that it had lengthened again. Not as much as last time, thank god, but enough that it fell to the midpoint of his shoulder blades. As he did so, he noted that his fingernails scratched his scalp. He turned his hand over, curling his fingers to check the length of his nails. Yup, time to break out the clippers. Probably had to get his toenails, too.

He rolled to the side, tossing the covers off with one arm. As he did so, he noticed the slight motion of the bulges on his chest. He ran his hand across his shirt again, noticing the way that they moved slightly at his touch. They were firm, but had some mobility as he leaned forward so that he was sitting on his bed.

"Ok, time to get this over with." James said, to no one in particular. He looked down at the jockey shorts that covered the top portion of his legs. He could see no bulge at all in them. Taking a deep breath, he hooked his thumb into the waistband and pulled it away from his body, willing himself not to scream as he looked.

He was definitely female. He released the elastic, which snapped back into place instantly. He breathed deeply, rolling his eyes up. This was not the time for self exploration, and he doubted that he would ever be comfortable enough with the change to try that.

"Talk about a lousy morning." He grumbled, standing up from his bed. His voice. That had changed as well, he noticed. Over the past few days it hadn't seemed noticable, but now it was definitely higher. "Oh great, now I'm back in the alto section of choir."

No, wait. That was wrong, thank god. He had quit the choir months ago. His mother hadn't taken that news lightly, but now at least he wouldn't have to deal with that particular nightmare. Again, James wished he had a guitar handy. If he ever needed to play a few chords to calm down, now was the time.

He had to pee. Badly. The feeling in his bladder was overwhelming, as he stumbled towards the door to his room. He pushed it open, and tromped down the hallway towards the bathroom. He brushed his hair back out of his face as he pushed the bathroom door open. Closing the door, he walked to the toilet, raising the lid. He fumbled in his underwear for a moment, then groaned, and dropped the lid back to the seated position. He turned around and sat down.

When James was finished, he noticed a slightly unpleasant wet feeling on his anatomy. He grabbed a piece of toilet paper, and cleaned the remnants of urine away, grumbling at the necessity. He flushed, pulling his underwear back into position.

While he washed his hands, James stared into the mirror. His hair still framed his face, but it looked ragged, as if he hadn't had a hair cut in a month. His eyes were still the same, but they looked tired, just awakened. He washed his face as an afterthought, getting rid of the sleepy look. The cold water had the added effect of waking him up fully, and he took in the reflection of the woman in the mirror.

"Holy shit." He murmured, looking over the form that was reflected. His face had not changed significantly overnight, but his body had. Dear lord, his body had changed. His gaze drifted down towards his chest, and the breasts that jutted out. James noted that they were exactly the kind of tits that he always had admired as a man. They rode firmly on his chest, moving only slightly as he did. As he looked, he noted the nipples hardening beneath his t-shirt.

"Oh no." He mumbled, turning his attention away from the mirror. The last thing he needed was to get turned on by looking at himself. He moved to the door, and opened it, revealing the face of his step-father Randall, who was waiting for the toilet.

James froze, looking directly into Randall's eyes. Randall, for his part, did not look back. James noticed for a split-second that he was still as tall as he had ever been, before he noticed that Randall was not looking into his eyes. Randall was looking lower.

"Uh, morning?" James said, trying to get Randall to stop staring at his breasts quite so obviously.

"Huh? Oh, morning Margaret." Randall responded, his gaze dropping even lower.

James sighed, and walked past Randall, feeling his eyes undressing him as he moved. He had never completely understood that phrase which women used before, but he felt it now. He could tell that Randall was not just looking at him, but thinking about him. Quite probably, he was thinking about James in ways that a man should never think about his step-son. Daughter, James corrected himself, instantly. He doesn't see you as a boy anymore.

James closed the door to his room behind himself, noticing that he was actually afraid. Why was he afraid? There was no reason to be. He was still just as tall as Randall, and Randall hadn't actually done anything. Even if he had, James could easily have dealt with him just like that little punk the day before.

Wiping away the last vestiges of his fear, James grabbed his sweats. His mother might give him some shit about wearing them, but he'd be damned if he would give Randall another eyeful. James pulled the fabric on, over the clothing that he had worn the night before. He looked down, noting with some satisfaction that it obscured his form rather well. Right now, he just wanted to grab a small bite to eat, and get whatever the day brought over with. James noticed that he was only thinking about a small breakfast. Perhaps whatever had jacked up his metabolism was finally over. With another glance downward, he realized that was extremely likely.

With a final mental preparation, James opened the door and tromped down the stairs. The hallway at the bottom was empty, and he walked along it slowly, heading for the kitchen. Reaching it, he pulled open the refrigerator, his eyes scanning for something appetizing. His eyes roamed before he settled on a bagel. He grasped it in his right hand, while he fished the cream cheese out of the cheese drawer with his left. Turning, he closed the door with his foot, taking the items to the counter.

"Well, you're finally up!" Anne said, coming into the kitchen from the front room. Her look was one of concern.

James looked at the clock, noticing it was about eight in the morning. Oh well, he guessed that they had missed church because of him.

"Sorry, I overslept." He replied, working with a knife to attempt to get the bagel apart. It fell easily into two pieces, which he slathered with cream cheese. "I was pretty tired."

"I should say so. You've been asleep for over thirty-six hours." Anne said, coming up behind him.

"You didn't wake me?" James asked. The idea that his mother would let him sleep that long was pretty alien to his experience.

"When I called Doctor Hubbard, he said that it would be best to let you sleep. I came in a few times to check on you, but you seemed alright."

"I slept through Sunday?" James asked incredulously. "No wonder...."

"No wonder what honey?" Anne said, looking at James' back.

"I, uh, think whatever was going on is over." James explained, as he turned around with the bagel in his right hand. He took a bite, while gesturing to himself with his left.

"Oh." Anne said, her gaze running over his form. Unlike Randall, when Anne looked at him, James did not feel as uncomfortable. The gaze was more of an appraisal than the mental undressing he had received earlier. He knew that she wasn't able to see much, thanks to his clothing selections, but the few bulges that showed should give the general idea.

"So, uhm, are you, uh...." Anne asked, stumbling over the question as she stared directly at James' crotch.

"Yeah. It's completely done, mom." James stated, becoming slightly uncomfortable at his mother's question. What kind of a question was that, anyway? It's a question from somebody who loves and cares about you, dumbass, his mind berated him. "I, uh, geez...." he tried to figure out exactly how to say the next line. "It didn't hurt or anything, mom. I mean, I wasn't even awake when it happened."

"Alright honey, I just.... I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, Maggie." Anne said, her gaze returning to his eyes.

"Thanks, mom." James replied, taking another bite of his bagel.

"You're a lot taller than I thought you would be." Anne said, deflecting the line of thought to something a little more general.

"Yeah, that surprised me too."

"Come over here," Anne pointed to a small section of wall where the old "growth chart" was. It wasn't even really a chart, just a few marks on plaster that had marked his height ever since he was eight years old. Smiling, James finished his bagel, and walked to the point at which his mother had pointed. He leaned back against the wall, straightening his spine to the maximum amount possible.

Anne placed her hand on the top of his head, and gestured for him to move away. Her mouth opened in shock as she looked at the point at which her fingers touched the wall.

"Maggie, you're taller." She said in amazement.

"No way." James looked at her fingertips, marking a spot at least a half an inch over the last marked line. "Get outta here. I'm taller?"

"Yes, at least half an inch. What were you, five foot ten?"

"Yeah, I think so." James recalled that he actually hadn't gained an inch in height from the time he was sixteen. He had stopped growing then, both physically and emotionally.

"Well, you're at least five ten and a half now." Anne stated, smiling at him. "See, it's not all bad, is it?"

"I guess." James shrugged his shoulders. A half an inch in height wasn't spectacular growth.

"Honey, you're pretty tall for a girl." Anne said at James' shrug. "I'm only five eight."

"I must get it from Grandma. What was she, six one?" James recalled his grandmother, a extremely tall woman with grey hair.

"Yeah, you must. It's just kind of strange, you being so tall when your sister is not." Anne remarked, her eyes never leaving the growth chart, and his sister's mark about seven inches below his.

James did not comment, merely looking at his mother. She returned his gaze, with a softness that surprised him. Despite everything, she was still his mother. Despite the changes, despite everything he would later put her through, she was always going to love him. He realized that now.

"Maggie." Anne said, looking at James with that same soft expression, "You are beautiful."

"My name is James, mom." James tried. He knew that she didn't think that anymore, and to be honest, he wasn't sure of that anymore. He felt that he had to say it, though. He had to hang on to it, fearing it would be lost forever. What good was it to go back if everything he was disappeared?

"No. Not anymore, honey." Anne stepped forward and pulled James into a tight embrace. He closed his eyes as she did so, and hugged her back, feeling her against him. She seemed smaller somehow, as her body pressed against his.

"I'm scared, mom." James whispered, thinking about the way Randall had looked at him. He had only seen that look in a man's eyes once before. It was at a party, four months in the future, seven years in his past. A party where a man had taken advantage of a boy.

"Shhhh." Anne said, rocking the girl in her arms. She patted him on the back softly. James felt the warmth of the embrace, the love that his mother was showing him. The cynicism of years drifted away, lost in the clutch of a mother and her child.

Time slipped to a crawl, as he was held. It wasn't fair. He had given this woman so much pain, and yet she accepted him as if everything was alright. Despite the bitter feelings that his memories inspired, he gave in totally to the feeling of being loved, and of just being held.

"MOOOOM!" Elaine shouted from somewhere in the distance. The voice ended the embrace, and James was embarrassed to realize that he had been crying. "Julie wants to know if I can go to the mall today!"

"NO!" Anne shouted back, turning away from James. "You're going to be spending the day with your sister and me!"

"AWWWWW!" Elaine sighed from the doorway of the kitchen. She scurried back into the front room, returning a brief moment later. "Can she come with us then?"

"We're not shopping for you." Anne cautioned, looking the fourteen year old in the eye. "I don't want you two pestering Maggie."

"We won't mom, honest!" Elaine brought her hands together in front of her in a pleading gesture. "Pleeeeeease?"

Anne looked at her a moment longer before relenting with a nod. Elaine's face broke into a wide smile as she dashed from the doorway, presumbly to give the news to Julie on the phone.

"Where are we going, mom?" James asked, looking at his mother with a puzzled expression.

"Oh, we're going to get you everything that you need for college." Anne said. She moved over to a counter where her purse lay and dug in it, finally extracting a lengthy list. "Plus I can't have you running around the house in my clothes or sweatpants all the time, can I?"

James groaned, thinking about what that meant. It meant school shopping. School shopping was a yearly torture that he despised. He had loathed it since he was a child, and he would despise it now. As far as shopping went he was always a walk in, grab it, pay, leave kind of guy. Not so his mother. Anne had always insisted that he try on everything, whenever she was paying. The vision of the day spent at the mall made him cringe.

"Do we have to do it today?" He tried, looking down at himself. The amount he had wanted to eat this morning suggested that his metabolism was back to normal, but he didn't think his mother knew that. "I thought we were going to wait until my, uh, sizes finalized."

"I'm pretty sure that they have, honey. I noticed that you only ate one bagel this morning." Well, there went that idea.

"Well, let me grab a shower at least. I mean, look at me." James gestured to himself, specifically the hair that fell around his shoulders.

"Ok, but hurry. You know everything opens at nine."

James groaned again, as he walked down the corridor towards the bathroom. He walked in, and closed the door. He turned the lock, then checked again to ensure that it actually was locked. Recalling Randall's look earlier, he also took the precaution of moving the small magazine rack in front of the door. Fairly certain that there was nothing else he could do to be more secure, he looked at himself in the mirror.

"Hey, Maggie." He mumbled to the face in the mirror. The feeling was bizarre. He knew that the woman that he saw was himself, but there was a feeling of unreality. Shaking off the strange feeling, James pulled the sweatshirt and the t-shirt under it upwards, leaving himself naked from the waist down. His eyes naturally drifted downwards, past his lips, down along the smooth curve of his neck. She noted briefly that her collarbones were now perfectly symmetrical, despite the soccer incident that had fractured the right one at age 12, leaving it permanently curved. Her eyes drifted lower, to stare at the chest that she now had to recognize as her own. Hers.......

James realized that it was the first time she had actually using that pronoun when referring to herself. It didn't seem strange. She was a woman now, after all. She may not like it, but referring to herself as a man in her own thoughts wouldn't help the situation any. Smiling at the realization, James took in the shape of her breasts; the gentle swell, capped by a slightly darker bit of skin. Under her gaze, James noticed that the aureola of her breasts wrinkled slightly, and the nipple itself began to softly rise. She was getting slightly aroused, and was tempted to touch it, but playing with herself while her mother waited for her to finish a shower wasn't exactly the best of ideas. Dragging her gaze from her own body, she lowered her sweatpants to the floor, while reaching out to turn the shower on.

She brushed the curtain aside, stepping into the warm spray. She inhaled sharply at the feelings as the water ran across her body. It was different to say the least. James pulled the curtain into place, and ran her hands through her hair, soaking it thoroughly. She reached for a bottle of shampoo on the edge of the tub, and ran a bit through her hair, noting the scent of roses as it reached her nostrils.

"No wonder we buy this stuff." James mumbled to herself as she took in the aroma. There was no way for her to compare how that one smell affected her to any odor in her memory. It was an emotion, a fragrance, a feeling. Combined with the sensations of running her hands through her hair, the entire experience was one of pure sensuality.

"This is just because it's new." James tried to bring herself back to reality with the thought, scrubbing her hair vigorously. With her attention brought back to the task at hand, the rest of the process went much faster. She shook the last of the shampoo from her hair, and picked up a bar of soap. "Now, don't freak. This is just like washing your girlfriend." she mumbled to herself.

It wasn't. Running soap over her body was an interesting experience, since wherever she touched herself, her male mind kept trying to point out the fact that she was feeling up a girl. To make matters worse, as she worked she kept feeling a heat beginning to grow in her lower abdomen. Her entire skin felt alive as she rinsed the suds from her body, sending chills up her spine whenever the water splashed across a particuarly sensitive spot.

"This is ridiculous." James said quietly. "I'm getting turned on by taking a fricking shower."

Dragging her attention back to the fact that she was supposed to be cleaning herself, James quickly finished up. Ignoring the sensations was difficult, especially the ones involving the lower half of her body. James was tempted to just grab the shower nozzle, stick it between her legs and get this whole curiosity problem over with. However, she didn't think that orgasmic screams would be the best way to convince her mother that she was just fine and adjusting perfectly normally, thankyouverymuch. She turned off the shower, and began to dry herself with a towel from the nearby rack.

"That was weird." James said to herself, as she felt the heat in her lower body beginning to lessen. What was left was a strange feeling of, well, wetness. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable of feelings, leaving James with the distinct feeling that she had wet herself. It wasn't that of course, since after drying herself with the towel the feeling remained. It was still there, but not as pronounced.

"If this is what women have to deal with when we get turned on, I'm showering in the dark from now on." James stated to her reflection, and began gathering up the clothes on the floor. She dressed rapidly, then picked up a brush and quickly put her hair into some semblence of order. She then moved the magazine rack, and unlocked the door. Calming herself, she exited the room, into the main corridor of the house.

"You ready, Maggie?" Anne called from the front room of the house.

"Just let me get my shoes on, mom!" James called as she began to ascend the stairs to her room. She still thought of herself as James. She wasn't ready to be Maggie, and she wasn't sure that she would ever be.

 

 

James wondered if she could get away with sweatpants today. Although her mother's slacks were slightly more comfortable than the male clothes she owned, they ended at the bottom of her calves. Shorts were out, since the last thing she needed today was Randall humming a ZZ Top song whenever she walked by. James finally gave in to her initial idea, and pulled on the light grey sweatpants. Her mother would probably give her garbage about wearing them, but she figured that she could just point out that the entire reason they were taking this little trip was to get clothing.

James was tempted to dig in her wardrobe for the most offensive t-shirt she had, but she once again pulled back on the impulse, instead merely selecting another polo shirt, this one a deep red. Hopefully that would keep her mother off her back.

James yanked her damp hair back, securing it tightly with a rubber band. The tug on the strands was uncomfortable as always, but for some reason, today the sensation of wrongness wasn't going away. When she had been male, the feeling of tightness in her hair had tended to dissapate after a few moments, not really noticable until she would remove the rubber band. Now, it felt as if every hair that was restrained by the slightly sticky elastic was being agonizingly pulled from her scalp whenever she turned her head.

"Please tell me this is just because it's new." James muttered to herself, pulling the rubber band free of her hair. A few strands came with it, intertwined in the rubber. There was an actual feeling of relief, as the strands fell back into position around her shoulder. "Maybe that's why my girlfriend always offered me a scrunchy whenever she saw me use one of these." James mused to herself as she tossed the elastic into a wastebasket.

Unwilling to waste any more time on preparations, James pulled on her one armed leather jacket, and threw open the door to her room. She moved quickly to the front room, where her mother and sister were waiting.

"We're still getting a new jacket today." Anne commented as she observed her child.

"Yeah, I know." James muttered. She still didn't want to do this. Well, at least she didn't want to go to the mall to go "Shopping". Although it would be nice to have some fricking clothes that fit, she doubted very much her mother would approve of her just replacing her wardrobe with the exact same items that she already owned.

"This is sooo cool!" Elaine bubbled, drawing Jame's attention. Elaine had braided her hair into two pigtails that streamed down her back sometime during James' lengthy sleep. Combined with the jeans and t-shirt, she looked like a typical young teenage girl about to go hang out with friends. Ugh.

James waited on the wooden front porch of the house while her mother gathered her things and closed and locked the door. She noted that Randall's truck was gone, which was a good sign. The less she had to deal with his royal jerkness, the happier she would be.

When everyone was fully prepared, they piled into the station wagon, James taking the shotgun seat. Instead of heading directly towards the main thoroughfare, his mother turned the car to the right, and began to ascend the hill. James wondered what was wrong, before she remembered that Elaine's friend Julie was going to be joining them. The thought merely added to her torture. Why couldn't they have just staked her down with some honey in the desert?

Julie, now there was an interesting girl. James recalled that she was the same age as Elaine, and that they had been friends for as long as she could remember. They played games together, slept over at each other's houses constantly, and generally acted just as sickeningly sweet as two little sociopaths could.

The car rolled in to the driveway of the large ranch style house, and Anne shut off the motor.

"Uhm, I'll just wait here." James said, making no move to undo her seatbelt.

"Maggie, I think you..... " Anne paused in the middle of her conciliatory thought, and her tone when she continued was tinged with exasperation, "Fine. You sit here in the car and be anti-social."

Elaine had already exited the car, practically skipping up to the front door of the house. She rang the doorbell, and turned back to the car, waving for Anne to join her.

"Just remember something, Margaret James Fletcher," Anne used her new full name for the first time, driving home exactly how upset she was, "You are only sixteen years old. You may be out of high school, but that does NOT mean you are an adult. You WILL be social, you WILL be pleasant, and if you want to go off to college, you WILL go shopping with me today, and you WILL NOT give me any problems. Do you understand?"

James hated this tone. She wasn't sure what she had said to set Anne off, but she knew that if she responded with anything but "yes, mom", she could look forward to another date with the Tribunal.

"Yes, mom." James said calmly. "I'll try, Ok?"

"Good. Now let's go get Julie."

James took a deep breath and unbuckled her seatbelt. She opened the car door, and followed her mother up to the front door of the house, where a fairly heavy-set woman was waving while she chatted with Elaine and another young girl who he knew to be Julie. Julie was an athletic girl, with a long brown braided ponytail which fell halfway down her back. She seemed to have coordinated outfits over the phone with Elaine earlier, since they both were wearing similar t-shirts with their blue jeans.

The large woman who James knew as Julie's mother chatted briefly with Anne. Anne explained about the shopping trip for Maggie, conspicuosly leaving out the fact that "Maggie" was "James". The conversation seemed to end very quickly, with Anne poining meaningfully at her watch, and Julie's mother nodding knowingly.

Julie held hands with Elaine as the two girls raced towards the car. Julie raced to the front right of the car, shouting "SHOTGUN!" at the top of her lungs. James rolled her eyes but said nothing, merely moving to the unoccupied seat in the car and sitting down. Anne started the car after they had all piled in, and started it rolling down the street towards the main section of town.

"Hi, Maggie! Elaine told me all about you!" Julie leaned back in her seat to look into James' face.

"Really?" James said, wondering how much Elaine had gone on to her friend.

"Yeah, It's really sad about your parents. I'm sorry."

What? James had no idea what she was talking about. His parents? Mom was sitting right there...

"Yeah, I told her about how Aunt Francie died, and how you're going to be living with us now."

"That was very, um, original of you."

"Elaine? What did you tell her?" Anne asked, also looking back, but looking towards her younger daughter.

"Well, you know, how Maggie's going to be living with us because of that fire in, uh, her house in San Francisco?"

"Uh-huh...." Anne said, listening to the little fiction that Elaine had created.

"Because, uhm, Maggie lost almost everything....And James is over at summer camp.....So, since she's almost the same size as he is, uh....you let her use some of his clothes."

"Naah, She's WAAAAY taller than James." Julie laughed. "James is soooo short."

"Is not." Elaine retorted, "He was like, uhm, I mean he's tall."

"Uhm, Anne. Are you sure that you want to let this continue?" James was hesistent to contradict her little sister, but at the same time, this little convoluted soap-opera had the potential to create more problems than it would solve.

"Not really." Anne said, looking back at Elaine. "It was really sweet of you to make up a story about Maggie, but I think that it would be a lot better if you told the truth."

"Aww...." Elaine sighed, looking at Julie with a bitter expression. "Ok. Maggie was my brother James."

"EEEEEWWWWW!!!!" Julie shreiked, somewhat repulsed. "You mean he's like one of those guys that dresses up like a girl?"
"NO!" James responded before Elaine had a chance to answer. He didn't like the idea of blabbing this story to everyone already, but if she was going to tell it, she could at least get it right! "It's a medical condition."

"Weird. So you're like, totally a girl?" Julie asked, digging in her little bag. She pulled out a stick of gum, and handed it backwards to Elaine, before opening one of her own and popping it into her mouth.

"Yes, she is." Anne answered for James, turning the car onto the main highway.

"Yeah, my brother's a girl. So you can stop asking me to set you up with him!" Elaine stuck her tongue out at Julie, eliciting a laugh.

"I was kidding, you jerk!" Julie laughed, looking back at James with a slightly wistful expression. She wasn't sure what it meant, but in a way she was a little flattered. Maybe his little sister wasn't as much of a psycho-bitch as she had thought. The way she had tried to cover for James was actually pretty sweet. Perhaps the idea of having a big sister was a little more appealing to her, than her awkward, cynical and anti-social brother had been.

The car rumbled down a small underpass. Up ahead on the left was Del Monte Center, a rather upscale mall. Anne turned at the second entrance down, and pulled into the parking lot. James noted the time as nine forty five, as they passed a large clock on the local bank branch. Anne parked the station wagon between two other cars, fairly near the entrance of Macy's.

Del Monte Center was not a typical mall. It was laid out in an open-air arrangement, with the shops in several buildings. The general layout was a central strip of stores, and outlying strips on both sides of that. Fountains and small gardens dominated the landscaping of the small patches of earth between the buildings. They had parked near the centerpoint of the mall on the lower level, since Macy's was one of the "anchors" of the center.

"So, we'll start with the basics." Anne commented as she smoothly locked the car door.

"Fine." James mumbled, watching his sister and her friend smiling and giggling about something. They didn't seem to be shooting many looks in her direction, so she figured that they had some private joke that they did not want to share.

"Elaine, you might just want to go on ahead. I'll meet you at the main fountain in about two hours, all right?" Anne turned her attention to the two girls, who were already about ten feet away.

"Awww, but we wanted to help!" Julie said, turning back and looking at James and Anne, who were still near the car.

"I don't think that you find underwear shopping to be that much fun, girls." Anne stated flatly. "If you really want to help, go look around at some of the other stores, and have some ideas for us later."

James wasn't too surprised. She figured that his mother would start with the absolute basics. She watched her sister and her friend head off into the depths of the mall, ascending the small escalator that lead to the main areas.

"So, where are we going shopping for underwear? Please don't say Vee Ess." James tried to pass it off as a joke, but she really didn't want to shop for garments at a lingere shop.

"Well, no. Not for the basics at any rate." Anne smiled, leading James in the opposite direction from the escalators. "I figured that Mervyns would be appropriate."

Thank you god, James murmured to herself.

Mervyns was at the far end of the mall. Since they had parked in the middle, it was a fairly short walk. As they walked, James gazed wistfully at the Software Etc, which was one of the only stores that she had actually enjoyed going into as a youth. She wondered if the clerks she had known the last time around were still working there. The store had eventually dissappeared, like many chain retailers, but she had fond memories of hanging out.

The first thing that hit James when she entered Mervyns was the elevator music. That, and the chill breeze from the air conditioning. Styles came and went, but department stores never changed. There always would be the huge racks of garments, separated by the small tiled walkways. There would always be the vaugely disinterested clerks, most of whom were folding clothes, before scurrying over to ring up some purchase. It was an experience that she wished was over already.

"I just realized, we don't even know your sizes." Anne commented, turning to look at her daughter with an appraising eye. "We'll have to get you measured."

James wanted to veto that. She already was having enough trouble getting used to her body without some minimum wage slave running his hands all over her with a measuring tape.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Anne spoke rapidly to a small elderly woman folding a shirt. If it hadn't been for the name tag, James would have easily mistaken her for a fellow shopper.

The woman turned away from the rack she was working on and smiled a fake "customer service" smile. James had thrown enough of them around in her time to know an act when she saw one.

"Yes, howcanIhelpyou?" The woman ran the words together, speaking them without concious thought.

"This is just crazy. My daughter Maggie," Anne gestured towards James, "has just finished a big growth spurt. We have absolutely no idea what her sizes are."

"Oh. Let me get a tape." The woman replied, and moved towards a small island in the middle of the racks where a service desk lay. She returned quickly, brandishing a long white tape measure. She moved close to James, who uncomfortably stood her ground.

"I need you to take off your jacket, miss." The woman spoke.

Grimacing, James pulled the bomber jacket off, and set it on the floor.

"Okay, arms up." The woman ran the tape around James' back, pulling it tight across her chest. "36."

James sighed. Oh great, not only did she have to be a woman, she had to have the standard centerfold measurements. The woman merely moved the tape down to set about James' waist.

"28."

The tape moved down again, pressing around the tops of James' legs.

"34."

Ok, so it wasn't centerfold material. Combined with her height, James realized that she was actually pretty skinny. As she mused, James was momentarily shocked when the lady put the tape measure even lower and began measuring her inseam. That wasn't expected. James also noted that his mother had taken out a small piece of paper and a pen, and was hurriedly jotting notes.

"Inseam is 30. Is that enough to go from, or do you want the others too?" The lady had an expression on her face that suggested that she would be extremely unhappy if it wasn't.

"No that's great. Eyeballing it, what size dress are we looking at?" Anne asked, completing her notes.

The little old lady sized James up, and seemed to do a few quick mental calculations.

"I'd guess about a ten. Start there."

"Great. Thanks." Anne smiled at the lady, who immediately returned to her folding after draping the measuring tape over her own neck. James retrieved her jacket, but at a warning look from Anne, merely draped it over one arm.

"So, upstairs then." Anne led her reluctant offspring towards the escalators to the upper level. As they rode up them, James took the opportunity to look at herself in the small mirrors that lined the escalator's path. With some embarrassment, James noted that the fact she wasn't wearing a bra was fairly obvious in the way she moved beneath her shirt.

They turned right at the top of the escalator, moving past a selection of table settings. Ahead of them, lay a small section that James had spent as little time as possible in during his tenure as a man. They were heading into the "intimates".

It was strange. James knew she shouldn't be embarrassed, but she felt like a pervert walking into the section. What made her even more uncomfortable was the fact that she WAS shopping for herself in this section. Her eyes flitted around as her mother led her deeper into the area. She tried to see something, anything that wasn't totally frilly. "So, you're going to need at least two weeks worth of....." Anne began, before she noticed the bright red blush that had crept across James' face. "Maggie, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine mom." James said, feeling the blood rushing just under the skin of her cheeks. She could practically feel a pulse beneath her eyes.

"Ok." Anne's lips pursed, stifiling a giggle at James' embarrassment. "Let's see. For basic pant....underwear, you're going to need something comfortable."

"How bout these?" James' hand moved rapidly, grabbing a plastic wrapped packet of white underwear.

"Well, that's pretty basic honey. Did you check the size?"

James glanced down at the package which featured a blonde model reclining with a smile on her face. Her eyes scanned, before noting a small number in the corner, which read twenty-six.

"Uh, no." James glanced back at the rack, searching until her eyes lighted on a package with the number she needed. "Here these'll do."

"Are you sure, honey? Don't you want to look more?"

"Nope, these look great. What's next?" James filled her arms with the packages, counting five of them out.

"You still shop the same way." Anne looked at her child with an wry expression. "Okay, we need to get you some bras. Let's see..." Anne's eyes scanned over James' chest. " I think you're about a see, but we need to try them on."

"Can't we just go with see then?" James asked. The last thing she wanted to be doing was trying on "intimates".

"Yes, but if it hurts you to wear, I'm not coming back here." Anne stated, relieving James of the plastic wrapped packets. "Plus you need something for your sports and your formals too. Actually I don't think we'll get the formals here."

"Ok, Fine. Where's the rooms?"

"Honey, we need to pick out what you're getting first."

The next fifteen minutes were sheer torture to James. Her mother seemed to delight in pawing through every rack, commenting on which ones looked nice, which would compliment her skin, and numerous other things that James truly did not care about. James merely went along with her, trying to deflect her suggestions to the most functional items. They eventually compromised on two different styles after a few tense moments. Finally, with undergarments in hand, James graciously headed to the changing rooms.

Inside the small booth, James locked the door, looking down at the floor and noticing how the lower portions of her legs were visible. Her thoughts immediately went to the "upskirt" videos that the internet would make popular in a few years. She immediately felt very vunerable.

"Calm down, James." She spoke to herself quietly, "You can't spend the rest of your life hiding in your room because somebody MIGHT peek at you."

With that thought, and a deep breath, she pulled her polo shirt up over her head. The t-shirt underneath quickly followed, and she placed them on the small changing room seat. Her eyes drifted to the clothing she was about to try on. The sports bra first, she thought. That'll be easy. Thinking of her mother's guess, she selected the one marked "C".

She grasped the small garment in her hands, pulled it over her head, and slid her arms in. It rode at her collarbones, and she pushed the fabric down, over her breasts. The feeling was one of tightness, as the material held her in place. There was a brief moment of pain, causing her to adjust herself to remove the pinch in the skin. She turned, to look at herself in the small changing room mirror. Overall, the feeling of restraint was interesting. When she turned, her breasts no longer swayed slightly. If anything the feeling was similar to the brace she had had to wear while her collarbone had been shattered. Restraint.

"Ok, it doesn't hurt." She thought, looking at herself in the mirror. The grey material of the bra swelled with her breaths. The pressure was there, but she felt more secured. As an experiment she hopped slightly on the balls of her feet, noting how she barely shifted. It didn't make her feel any more like a man again, but her equipment wasn't so obviously in the way.

"Kinda like a jock strap for tits...." James thought, as she pulled the bra up. Her breasts came free, and the feeling of pressure immediately abated. "Ugh. If I can, I'm doing without as much as possible." she silently hoped. However, she recalled exactly how women on the street were looked at if they went without.

James piled the rest of the sports bras into a pile, after trying on two others as an experiment. The smaller of the two hurt so much that she couldn't even finished pulling it on. The other was more comfortable than the "C", but left her body with so much mobility that it was like she wasn't wearing any bra at all.

Steeling herself, James looked down at the white cups of the everyday, average, boring bra that she had wheedled her mother into accepting. Her only experience with these things had been with former girlfriends. She recalled what a bitch bras had been to take off.

Slowly, she lifted the two half globes into place, feeling them snug against herself. The feeling of pressure that had been present with the sports bra was still there, but lessened considerably. She slid her arms through the straps and reached behind herself, attempting to fasten the small hooks. After far too many false starts, she felt the hooks mate with the loops, and knew that she had finally got it right.

James felt the same restraint she had felt with the earlier bra. This bra did not press her breasts back against her chest, however. The undergarment held her body up, but not uncomfortably so. If anything, she felt safer to move, since so far today she had been nervous to reach for a drink in fear of knocking something over. James wasn't used to her breasts completely yet, and accidentally rubbing against them was distracting. She realized that she could get used to this, but, like everything else about her life right now, it would take time.

James finished removing the underthings, and rapidly redonned her shirt. Dividing the pile of clothes into two, she opened the door to her booth and walked down the little aisle to the seat where her mother was waiting.

"All done?" Anne asked.

"Yeah, you were right. It was a see." James said, placing the incorrect sizes on the "Go-back" pile.

"Did you try on the others?" Anne asked, looking at James suspiciously.

"Yes and they hurt. Okay?" he affirmed, a little miffed at his mother's suggestion. She may not like having to try on clothes, but pain was not something She enjoyed dealing with.

"Okay. Well, I guess that's that then. Unless you wanted to get your formals here?" Anne suggested, pointing to a wall filled with slightly more risque items.

"Nah, I'll wait thanks." James deflected the suggestion. "Can I get some jeans? Mine don't fit anymore."

"Sure. By the way, you're putting a bra on as soon as we buy them. How about your shirts? Do your polos still fit?"

"Yeah, that cuts down on that." James was actually extremely pleased with that fact. She had always like that particular cut of shirt, and the fact that she could still wear them as a woman was a welcome surprise.

"Well, we still need a few other shirts, but that does help." Anne said, leading James back towards the escalators down. "So, what colors are we looking at?"

"Uh, basic red, blue, black?" James said, a little confused. Colors were colors. You picked whatever you liked and let the rest go.

"Yes, Maggie, but which blue? Which Red? I actually think you might want to try an Emerald Green." Anne said, explaining. She led James towards the womans section of the downstairs.

"Jeans first, Ok?" James answered, pointing at a selection of shelves with a variety of jeans on them.

"Five sixties?"

"Huh?"

"Levis' cut for a girl."

"Sure, uh twenty eight, thirties and we're good."

"Well, you still have to try them on. What color?"

"Blue or black. It doesn't really matter mom."

"Well, did you want to try a white?"

"Not really mom. Can we just please get this done with? Jeans are one of the only things I really know how to shop for."

"Yes, I know. It seemed to be the only thing you lived in." Anne's comment was slightly bitter. "Only three pairs."

James nodded, as she grabbed two pairs of blue jeans and a black pair as well. Trying them on took only a minute, since the sizes had already been checked. Triumphantly, she returned to her mother, holding the jeans up.

"Perfect fit maw!" she crowed. "Told ya I knew something."

"Fine. Now let's see about tops...." Anne stated, pointing to a section that looked like a vast desert of nothing but shirts. Blouses, James corrected her thought. Blouses, and tops, and all the other things that women refuse to call shirts. Her mother led the way, moving from rack to rack with the eye of a practiced shopper, while James trailed behind, occasionally suggesting something that looked comfortable.

Eventually they settled on several items. James got tired of running back and forth to the changing rooms, each time with another armload of shirts that Anne insisted would be perfect. To James, it was a case of red shirt, blue shirt, green shirt. Shirt without sleeves. Shirt with long sleeves. Shirt that fits waaaaay to loose. Shirt that crushes my tits. Shirt that looks normal but feels really soft.

It was a welcome relief when Anne nodded at the final selections, and placed them on a counter next to the rest of the items that they were ready to purchase.

"Okay, now for the last things we get here." Anne announced. She paused for a moment, then remarked, "You know this is the most fun I've had shopping in far too long."

James knew she couldn't say the same. To her the whole excersise had been nothing but a long, drawn out chore. Her spirit did brighten slightly at the thought that they were almost done.

"So, what's left, mom?"

"Just bottoms. I think a couple pairs of slacks and few skirts, and we're done here."

"No skirts." James had a horrid vision of a pervert with a video camera.

"Maggie, you wore a skirt at my wedding." Anne said, looking at her with a smug expression.

"Okay, first off that was not a skirt, that was a kilt." she recalled the thick, heavily pleated item well. The leather reinforcement at the waist had driven home the fact that it was a man's item, and not a delicate piece of finery. It actually had been an extremely comfortable piece of clothing, but she wasn't going to give her mother the satisfaction. "Secondly, it was for a formal occasion, and skirts are not formal wear."

"Yes, but they do look nice." Anne said. "I'm not saying that you have to wear something revealing, I just think you should have something nice to wear."

"But it's a skirt, mom!" James whined.

"Keep this up, and I'll just pick them out. I know your sizes, and I'm sure you'll like what I get you."

Visions of pink frilly things swam in James' mind. She rolled her eyes, before nodding her assent.

"All right, but I'm not wearing pastels." The last thing that she wanted to do was to look like a Martha Stewart reject.

Fortunately for James, the skirt shopping went fairly quickly. Anne showed considerable respect for her wishes, and selected several darker colored pieces that ended below the knee. James smirked when she noticed that Anne had selected a tartan skirt among the items that she wanted her to try on. The entire affair over in under a half an hour.

James lounged by the cash register as she watched her mother fork over a credit card to the clerk who was ringing up the purchases and placing them into large paper bags. With a flourish, Anne signed the receipt that was handed to her, and held the bags out to James.

"C'mon Maggie, you get to carry." Anne glanced at her watch. "Looks like we have just enough time to drop this at the car before we meet up with Elaine and Julie."

Slightly burdened by the large load, James carried the bags as she followed her mother out of the store. When they reached the car, Anne simply opened the wagon's tailgate, and allowed James to pile the bags in. When James had finished, she was about to close the tailgate when Anne's voice interrupted her.

"Forgetting something, honey?"

"What?" James asked.

"Bra." Anne gestured at James' shirt. Shrugging his shoulders, James fished in one of the bags, pulling out one of the white linens.

"I'll stop at the bathroom. Okay?"

"Why don't I meet you at the fountain?" Anne asked.

"Sure." James nodded, before she headed towards the public restroom near where they had parked.

 

 

The public bathroom was a small room covered from top to bottom with small tan tiles. James quickly entered one of the small stalls, and slid her shirt over her head. Again struggling with the clasp to the bra, she suddenly remembered a trick that one of her old girlfriends had used. She wrapped the bra about her bare stomach, and deftly fastened the hooks. Smirking, she rotated the item around herself, then pulled it up, over her breasts. Slipping her arms back into her shirt, she noted how she no longer felt the chill up her spine when she dressed.

"Must have been the fabric running across....Oh great...." James thought, realizing that the chill was a sexual response. Like it or not, she was going to have to get used to the fact that she had more erogenous zones than she was familiar with. She feverently hoped that this newness would wear off soon, since constant sensation would be a nightmare and a half.

Adjusting her shirt by tucking it back into the waistband of her sweatpants, James opened the stall door. She was alone in the bathroom, and took the opportunity to look at herself in the small mirror as she pulled on her one armed bomber jacket. Leaving the jacket open as she always did, combined with the bra, gave an interesting look to her figure. It was a tad embarrassing actually, to note that the sides of the jacket acted similar to a frame around her breasts. Zipping it up halfway just accentuated the problem, and it was too hot to wear it fully closed. Shrugging, James just took it off.

"Last thing I want to do is drag attention to my chest." James mumbled, looking to see if that solved the problem. It didn't. The polo shirt that she had chosen this morning wasn't designed for her current form. The t-shirt under it did minimize the shape of the bra under the thin fabric, but no matter what she did, her overall shape would be fairly obvious.

Admitting defeat, James redonned the jacket. She figured that at least that way people would be looking at the missing arm first, and her breasts second. Unless they're staring at my ass, James thought. God, how could women deal with the stares? She'd already had the same look from one or two passing men earlier in the day that she had had from Randall this morning. It wasn't pleasant.

"You did it too, you jackass." James chastized herself. "They just seemed to ignore it. Learn to ignore."

Of course, the walk along the pebbled concrete to the fountain alone was nerve wracking. Nobody hooted or hollered, but James felt like everyone was staring at her. If anything they should have been staring less, since she was now closer to looking "normal", but the feeling was still there. She half wanted to scream, wondering what every passing glance that a man or a woman gave her meant. She was actually starting to get afraid.

Seeing her mother chatting with Julie and Elaine near the small fountain was a welcome relief. She quickened her step, rapidly closing the distance. Anne looked up as she noted James' approach, and raised a welcoming hand.

"Well, you look better." Anne said, looking at James with that same appraising eye. James said nothing, following his mother as she led the small group towards the other large department store in the mall.

Macy's had been there for as long as James remembered complete with the glass doors, bisected in the middle with wooden slats. The interior was similar to Mervyn's, but with a lot more glass cases. The salespeople here tended towards slightly more formal clothing as well, all accented with golden tinted nametags.

Elaine and Julie raced ahead, towards a section fringed with off-white skinned mannequins. They seemed to be having a grand time as they were momentarily lost from sight. James looked at her mother with a questioning look, but made no comment as the two young teens raced back. James noticed with some trepidation that her sister was holding a jacket on a coathanger.

"Julie found this! Isn't it great?" Elaine grinned, holding the white leather jacket out to James. She took it with a skeptical eye, noting the fringe on the sleeves, and the fact that it seemed to be four or five sizes too small. It was, without a doubt, a very nice jacket for a girl. However, that was exactly the last thing that James wanted to wear, and after a moments contemplation, returned it to her sister.

"Thanks, Julie.... but, uh.... no." James smiled apologetically at the girls. "I don't think I'm ready for something like that."

"But it's sooooo nice!" Julie pouted, as she took the jacket back from Elaine. "At least try it on!"

"I have to agree with Maggie, here girls," Anne commented, looking at the price tag. "I don't think this is really her style."

"C'mon Missus Brandistock!" James winced at Julie's mention of his mother's married name. "I bet it'll look great!"

"That may be, but I am not forking over two hundred dollars for a jacket that I doubt Maggie will wear. Did you girls get any other ideas that might be a little more reasonable?"

At that, Julie walked away with the jacket, presumably to return it to it's rightful rack. Elaine grinned at James, and pointed towards a section that made her skin crawl just looking at it. "Juniors".

"I'm a little tall for that, sis." James grimaced, looking towards his mother for a veto. Anne merely shook her head softly, before addressing Elaine.

"Elaine, honey, I told you that we weren't shopping for you." Anne said gently.

"We weren't!" Elaine nearly shouted, as Julie returned, sans jacket.

"Yeah, we just thought that Maggie could use some stuff that looked good!" Julie aided Elaine's defense. They did make the perfect picture of innocence, and for a moment, James thought perhaps they were being truthful. Then she remembered who she was dealing with.

"And it wouldn't hurt if you could borrow it occasionally, right?" James stated, looking directly into her sister's eyes.

"Well, uh...." Elaine stumbled over her response, and James knew that she had hit right on the mark.

"What kind of jacket do you want, Maggie?" Anne ended the awkward silence that had developed, by bringing the attention back to James.

"Well, it's Idaho, so a winter jacket." James said, thinking about the cold weather that she had encountered on her first time around. It had been her first time in snow, and the memory of those white flakes drifting down made her ache for something warm. "I was kinda hoping for down...."

"Oh, wow, I had one of those back when I was in college...." Anne smiled at the memory. "I don't think you want purple though, right?"

"Naaah. How about one kinda like that green one I used to have as a kid?" James thought about the little green and yellow jacket that her mother had sewn for her back in the third grade. She had been the envy of all of the other little boys in class, because Anne had let her sew all sorts of cool patches on it. The memory was pleasant, of a time back before her life had gone to hell in a handbasket.

"Can we check clearance?" Anne led the small group back towards a rack in the back of the department. "I remember having one of those on the camping trips I used to take up to Yosemite. We'd sit around a campfire in between climbs, somebody would always drag out a guitar...." Anne pawed through the rack as she spoke, eyes searching for the right item.

"How bout this?" Elaine pulled a sky blue jacket with tan trim out from the side of the rack she was looking through.

"That's nice." Anne commented, looking at the item.

"Oh, it's great! Maggie, if you don't want it, can I have it?" Julie grinned, running her hands over the thick fabric.

James actually didn't know what to think. It was a lot lighter in color than she was used to, and she kept imagining how it would look if it ever got dirty. The image wasn't exactly pretty.

"I think you might want to try that one on." Anne said to James, as she continued to look through the rack.

Shrugging, James removed her leather jacket and handed it to Elaine, trading it for the thick winter item. She slid first one, then the other arm into it, and zipped the bulky coat up rapidly. What immediately struck James was the feeling of warmth that took hold inside the jacket. It had to be down, since she could feel the movement of the feathers as she shifted slightly, feeling how her arms moved. It was definitely comfortable, but the California heat was rapidly making the simple try-on session intolerable. It would be a good item for this winter however. Maybe they had it in a darker color.

After another five minutes of searching through the rack, James realized that if she wanted to get this jacket, she would have to get THIS jacket. The thought wasn't terrible, since it was definately something she would enjoy wearing, if she could just get past the pastel color scheme.

"It looks great, Maggie." Elaine grinned again. "See mom, I told you I wasn't shopping for me!"

"Yeah, he doesn't even look a little bit like a guy." Julie blurted out, looking at James. "Uh...."

James groaned at Julie's little gaffe. She didn't think anybody in the store had heard Julie, but she really didn't feel like being stared at as a freak for the rest of the trip. Fortunately, Julie seemed a bit embarrassed by her slip, and immediately busied herself looking though another rack.

"What do you think honey? Get it?" Anne said, looking at James softly. She seemed to be thinking about something, perhaps a memory.

"Yeah, sure. I think I'm going to pack it until Idaho though. That thing is warm..." James rapidly removed the jacket, before retrieving her own and putting it back on.

"Good, the last thing I need is you freezing to death." Anne smiled, taking the coat from her. "Okay, three more things here and we're done."

"Totally done?" James smiled at the thought.

"No, done with Macy's."

"Oh. What?"

"Shoes, formals, and makeup."

"WHOA! Hang on there Mom, you didn't say anything about THAT."

"What? Shoes?" Anne said, an amused expression on her face.

"NO.... makeup...." James dropped his voice to a near whisper.

"Maggie, it's nothing to be embarrassed by." Anne said, shooting a glare at Elaine that kept her from making whatever comment she was about to.

"Mom, I uh..... this isn't optional, is it?" James asked the final question, already knowing what her mother would say.

"Nope."

"Then please don't make me look like Tammy Faye Baker, okay?"

All three of the other women in the little shopping party chuckled at the last comment, seemingly sharing a private joke. James hoped that she had said the right thing.

"No, don't worry honey. I don't even expect to get you very much. Just some subtle stuff for your formals. In fact, let's just get it over with right now."

James found herself being led to the makeup counter. Her eyes roamed over the huge racks, noting how almost everything seemed to be some shade of pink. Well, no, not everything was pink, she corrected, looking at the dark blue dress worn by the extremely attractive woman manning the counter. James' eyes roamed over the figure who greeted them, noting the raven hair and the exquisite green eyes that drew her attention right from the start.

"Hi. How can I help you today?" The woman behind the counter addressed Anne, and as she did so, James couldn't help but notice how her smile seemed far more genuine than that of the old lady at Mervyn's.

"Well, Maggie here is going off to college, and would like to see how she'd look with something subtle."

"Ok, Maggie? Hi, I'm Joyce. Why don't you have a seat and we'll see what works." Joyce pointed to a small chair that sat in front of a large mirror. She led the way, and James' gaze drifted to her ass. She momentarily noted how it looked in the dark blue skirt, before reminding herself that there was exactly nothing that she could do about it.

"So what are we thinking here? I love your eyes, by the way." The woman moved in front of James as she sat in the chair.

"Uhm, thanks." James said, looking back into the woman's sparkling green. If James had been a man again, she would never in a million years would have had the courage to even say one word to this enchanting woman. "They're new." James tried for a humourous comment, which in fact did bring a small smile to Joyce's face.

"MOOOOM, can we go up and look at the formals?" Elaine's voice was distant to James, as she felt her attention being drawn to the woman who was scrutinizing her face.

"Sure, but be back soon. What do you think, something light?" Anne looked back to the girls, who scurried away rapidly, before turning her attention back to the cosmetics salesgirl.

"Yeah, maybe, I think that we should definitely accent her eyes though." Joyce nodded softly, before turning to rummage through a small rack. She came up with a small round case, and a tool that looked a bit like an oversized cotton swab. "Close your eyes."

James did so, and waited as she felt a light pressure on her eyelids. It tickled, and she forced back a giggle. The movement of Joyce's hands was indeed pleasureable, stroking the tool back and forth across the sensitive skin of her lids. After another moment of her touches, James could feel something on her eyelids. If anything it felt like being slightly sweaty. It wasn't unpleasant, but would take a little getting used to.

"Okay, open." Joyce's voice was calm, and when James opened her eyelids she saw no major changes in the mirror. A moment went past, and then she noticed the slight peach color on her eyelids. It wasn't a major change, but it brought even more attention to her eyes.

"I think that's going to work." Joyce said, admiring her handiwork. "Are we going with that one?"

"Definitely." Anne's response was quick, and Joyce placed the small round container on the table.

"I don't think we need to go with too dark a rouge, since she's already got great cheekbones. How bout this one? Close please."

James snapped her eyes shut as Joyce approached her face with an applicator that looked like an oversized paint brush. The touch on her face was gentle, and James thought about how if she had still been a man she would have probably have had to pay a huge amount of money for the kind of attention that Joyce was showing him to just sell a couple pieces of makeup. All to quickly, the gentle caresses of the brush were over, and James opened her eyes to see herself again.

The rest of the session was similar. Joyce would select an item for it's subtility, and then spend a few exquisite moments touching James' face, applying it. James wanted to ask if she always went this far on a first date, but choked back the thought. Her mother was standing right there, and making lesbian comments would not make the time they were spending together any more pleasant.

"Wow. I think that's going to work perfect. What do you think Maggie?"

James thought she looked like a model. The minor changes that the application process had made brought out a beauty that James did not know that she possessed. Upon further reflection, her first thought was actually, hey, I'd fuck her.

It was actually rather uncomfortable that that was the exact thought that she had been having with regards to Joyce as her mother again handed the credit card over for the items they were purchasing. James had thought that she had gotten over that whole teenage obsession with sex, but apparantly her body wasn't going to let her get away without going through it again.

"So, shoes or formals?"

"Can we get some lunch, I'm actually getting pretty hungry." James said as they walked towards the escalators.

"After we finish up here, ok? Let's do formals, since shoes are easy."

Formals, as James should have realized from her mother's statement, were not easy. She lost track of the amount of times she trudged back and forth to the dressing room, after one of the little shopping group had insisted that she "try just one more." Dress was a dress was a dress. It got to the point where James almost didn't see herself in the mirror anymore, just a figure that her mother and sister were playing dressup with. Considering some of the items that her sister and her friend suggested, that might have been a good thing. Julie and Elaine seemed partial to fashions that were appropriate to a catwalk. Either that, or dancing on a pole, which James did not plan on attempting anytime soon. It brought her considerable relief when Anne vetoed several of them without even a preliminary try-on.

After the ordeal of fabric and uncomfortable zippers, James found it a welcome relief when the final purchases were made. She wasn't even sure exactly which items her mother had finally chosen, since exhaustion was rapidly becoming the largest factor in her life. No matter how much James hated shoe shopping, she found herself actually looking forward to it, for the simple fact that she would allowed to sit down was extremely appealing.

A quick trip down the stairs, and there they were at the shoe department. James allowed her mother to once again take charge of the proceedings, heading towards a large chair that seemed especially welcoming. She mechanically slipped her feet into each pair of sneakers that were presented, answering all questions with a non-committal grunt. It was when the shoes changed to ones that she was not familiar with that she began to speak up.

"Wait, mom. I don't need heels on my shoes."

"Maggie, you need at least one pair of pumps for your formals." Anne corrected her wayward daughter's comment with a shrug.

"Mom, I'm five eleven. I don't think I need heels." James said again, trying to get away from this particular style of shoe.

"Yes, you do." Anne said, fitting the dark shoes to each of James' feet in turn.

James finally relented, as she had all day. There were more important things to fight about, after all. It wasn't like she was actually going to have to wear these things when she got up to Moscow, anyway. She remembered how she had been able to count on one hand the number of times she had worn one of the suits his mother had bought for her the last time around. Surely this time it wouldn't be any different. Heck, she hadn't even had to wear a suit once during rush week the last time.

Two purses and another pair of shoes later, James relished the quarter pound hamburger that she had coerced Anne into purchasing. After the amount of work that she had done this morning, the simple chance to sit down and eat was incredibly refreshing.

"So, I think we only have one more stop." Anne announced, in between bites of her own burger.

"Great, then home, right?"

"This has been so much fun, Missus Brandistock." Julie piped up, as she slurped at a large soda.

"Do I get to do this when I go off to college?" Elaine asked, her eyes wide with the thought.

"One at a time here girls." Anne held up her hand to silence the chattering. "Yes, Maggie. Thank you, Julie. Of course, Elaine."

James waited a few minutes more, while she finished chomping on the large sandwich. Only one thing bothered her, and that was the amount of grease that dripped onto her fingers as she ate. She'd eaten here numerous times, and yet the grease had never bothered her half as much as it did today.

"So, what's the stop?" James asked as she crumpled the greasy paper wrapper and tossed it onto the tray in front of her.

"Vee Ess." Anne said, clearing her own tray away.

"Excuse me? No. No. No. I think I heard you wrong there. You did not just tell me that you're taking me to a fricking lingere store." James knew she was overreacting, but after the rest of the day, this was the last straw.

"Maggie, you need underwear for your formals."
"I HAVE underwear. Okay? I don't need anything else." James had no idea why her mother wanted to take her into a store that sold underwear for the exclusive purpose of turning men on. Heck, when she was a guy, just walking past the display windows had often been enough to inspire a semi. Did her mother really think.....

"Honey, we need to get you something that isn't going to show a panty line. Plus you need a bra for that strapless dress we got you."

"Fine, but Vee Ess? Come on mom, we both know what kind of stuff they sell there."

"Have you ever been in there, Maggie?"

"I don't have to, mom. I can see the display windows just fine."

"Then you have no idea what they really sell in there."

After a long argument, James finally relented. When they actually started trying on items, she realized that her mother had been telling her the truth. Victoria's Secret might have a great deal of risque items, but there was another side that men tended to forget about. Functional underwear was quite common once she got past the front few racks. James actually found that she did have a preference in underwear: avoiding butt-floss. The few items that she allowed her mother to coerce her into buying were fairly conservative, and actually would look fairly good if she ever found the occasion to wear them. Not that that was likely. James had no intention of ever letting the stuff touch her, but she was humoring her mother.

Finally, they had finished. Anne and the two younger girls led James back to the car, her arms loaded with small bags. As they approached the vehicle, she immediately called out, "SHOTGUN!"

Anne drove them all home, stopping briefly to drop off Julie. As the car pulled into the driveway, James noted Randall, unloading his truck again. She momentarily wondered if Randall actually ever got any work done, since all she ever seemed to see him do was load and unload the truck. With that thought, James began to remove the bags from the back of the car. She finished collecting the last of them, and began to walk up the driveway, when Randall called out to her.

"Went panty shopping, James?" the sarcastic comment struck James hard. She looked down at the bags in her hands, and noted sadly that the Victoria's Secret bag was on the outside. Randall just couldn't let that one go, could he?

"RANDALL!" Anne's voice was sharp, and it took James a moment to realize that she had indeed adressed Randall, and not her. James looked back, to see her mother staring at Randall with a murderous look in her eye.

"What, honey?" Randall asked, dropping the tool he had been holding into the truck bed. He wiped his hands on his blue jeans, and spread them apart in an appeasing gesture. "Just a joke."

James shrugged, and continued up towards the house. He had seen this conflict a few times before. Anne and Randall would fight over something he said, they'd go to their room, and the next morning, Anne would be in a good mood again. As an adult, James had figured out exactly what had most likely gone on in that room.

"NO, It's NOT just a joke. You have no idea how hard this was for Maggie. She worked harder at being a member of this family today than I have ever seen her do. You do NOT get to make fun of her because she bought underwear." The tone in Anne's voice was strange. James had heard that anger before, but it had always been directed towards herself. The fact that Randall was bearing the brunt of it was unusual, to say the least. James was half tempted to stay and listen to the rest of the conversation, but felt a hasty retreat would be the wiser course. As she opened the door and headed into the main room she could hear Randall stammering out some lame apology, and Anne's angry retort. She closed the front door behind her, since Elaine had already preceeded her into the house, and went to the stairs that led up to her room.

James dropped the shopping bags in a corner of her room, and lay back on the bed. She was tired, but a normal kind of tired. It had been a very long day, an all she wanted to do now was rest. Her right hand dropped to the basket near the foot of her bed, and fished in it for a moment, before coming up with an old issue of Mad Magazine. If she ever needed to laugh, now was the time.

  

  

  

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