This Time

by Ilean Anne Jerque

  

Gene stood peaking around the corner at his dad. The man wasn't really his father but had assumed the role when he married Gene's mother, Lorrain. He wasn't a bad man, but since Lorrain's death, he had become very depressed and began to drink a lot. It was times like this, when he was drunk and hadn't yet eaten, that Gene was afraid of him. Sometimes he would eat and fall asleep in front of the TV, sometimes he would start to eat but change his mind and beat Gene awhile, or sometimes he would just start an argument and then beat Gene. The beatings hurt, but it was this time, the time of not knowing, that frightened Gene the most.

To avoid pain, Gene had become quite a good cook. Mom had always taught him new things about cooking as she learned them. Now these hints were used for survival. He made dishes that he knew his dad liked and often experimented with new recipes, even though a failure could result in a beating.

Mom had always prided herself in her clean house and Dad had considered it one of her best virtues. Cleaning the house had become a constant chore for Gene since a clean house was one less point available for an argument, and arguments seemed to always end with a bruise.

Gene's grades had also improved somewhat. Dad was a whole lot less understanding than Mom was when it came to a bad report card.

Dad rose from the chair and promptly fell back into it. He pushed himself up again and, swaying a little, walked slowly into the kitchen. Gene met him there, eager to serve him and get him eating. Dad lifted the lid off the potatoes and shook his head affirmatively. He lifted the lid from the field peas and sniffed. Gene jumped forward and offered a sniff from the simmering stroganoff. "Ready yet?" Dad slurred out.

Gene smiled, to keep the mood as cheery as possible, "Yes. It only finished cooking a couple of minutes ago so its real fresh."

"Coffee?"

Gene grinned, this wasn't something that Dad would have normally asked except to perhaps start an argument, "Fresh pot, Dad. Come on, have a seat and let's eat." Gene tried to coax him to the table.

Dad hesitated for a moment and Gene cringed. "Not too much potatoes tonight, boy. I'm kinda full from lunch." He moved to the table as Gene rapidly served the food.

Dad was the basketball coach at high school. He ate early and went to sleep early so that he could get up and run every morning. Supper was over by six o'clock and Gene had the leftovers put away and the kitchen cleaned by six-thirty. The pressure was off. There was to be no beating tonight. Gene headed to Scott's house to make plans for the upcoming Halloween carnival.

Scott and he weren't part of the planning of the thing, but they had been going to it every year for the past seven years, even while in elementary school. And each of those years, they had a good prank in store for some unsuspecting teacher or student. This year, Scott was to have an idea that would alter the course of Gene's life.

He arrived just as Scott and his fraternal twin sister Susan finished dinner. Susan was a cheerleader and her best friend, Lisa, also a cheerleader, was having supper with them. The four teens congregated in the den where Scott unveiled his surprise. "OK. Gene, this will be our last carnival at Medfield. So, I thought that we would really do-up the last one with a surprise for everyone. As you know, the carnival will also be a homecoming party since homecoming falls on the same weekend this year. My idea, and Susan and Lisa are willing to go along with this, is for us to replace them in the cheering squad at the pep rally before the carnival."

Scott waited a moment while he watched Gene running the idea through his mind. "Com'on buddy. It will be a great laugh whether we pull it off or not!"

Gene sat for a moment. He looked at Susan, then at Lisa, and then at Scott. He looked again at Susan, then at Scott. Scott was taller than him and he and Lisa were much the same size. Susan and Gene were identical in height, both had blue eyes, and an accident when he was eight had left Gene with a small, girlish nose that also greatly resembled Susan's. The accident flashed in Gene's memory.

Dad and Mom weren't married yet but they were at his family's reunion that year. Dad was batting and Gene was standing behind him, next in line. With a wild swing, Dad reached for a wide pitch but only succeeded in crushing Gene's nose with the end of the bat as it swung freely in his outstretched left hand. Gene was rushed to the hospital. The doctor said that if the impact had been a little to either side, an eye would have been lost, or if the hit had been slightly upward, Gene would have been killed. As it was, most of the bone of his nose was destroyed and removed, and a plastic replacement had been cemented in it's place. His new nose looked normal once the swelling went down, but as he grew, the plastic nose didn't, resulting in the small, feminine nose he had now. Once again, he scanned the apprehensive faces. "I look more like Susan than Scott does," Gene said in agreement with the scheme.

The girls giggled and Scott let out a little, "Alright!"

 

During the next few weeks, the boys worked hard at learning the cheers and at sounding like the girls as well as getting the athletic, parallel movements down pat. The girls supplied their knowledge and their spare uniforms. Lisa's had to be enlarged slightly to accommodate Scott but Susan's fit Gene well. There was some debate over what to do about the boys' hair. Scott would have to have a wig as his hair was too short and not Lisa's color, but the girls felt that Gene could get away with his own long hair as long as he cut the front of it to match Susan's bangs and side feathering. The remainder of his hair could be pulled back and swept under a fall to give him a nearly perfect match with how Susan wore her hair when she was cheering. As the time grew near, a dress rehearsal was called for. The boys donned uniforms, hair pieces, and make-up, and gave a try at their masquerade. Some things became apparent: both boys needed more weight in their "boobs," both need some padding in the hips, Scott's wig would have to be secured better, eyelash glue could do that job, and both boys needed to shave their legs.

Something else was also apparent: Susan and Gene looked a lot alike, more than they thought before. There were two changes necessary for the illusion to be perfect. Gene's eyebrows were far bushier than Susan's graceful arches, necessitating a good plucking, and Gene didn't have the pierced ears and diamond studs that Susan had -- also correctable.

Gene refused, "Oh no! I'll go along with cutting my hair and shaving my legs but I'm not going to pluck my eyebrows and pierce my ears."

"Com'on Gene," Scott pleaded, "look at how much you look like Susan. If you do it, nobody will be able to tell you apart from her."

"And besides," Lisa added, " your ears will close once the earrings are out and your eyebrows will grow back."

Susan grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes, "Don't spoil it now. People will notice if you don't do it. Please Gene, the changes aren't permanent."

They continued to badger Gene until he finally relented, "Alright, but I better not get any snide remarks about my eyebrows or I'll never speak to you guys again." He couldn't know at the time but he had just committed himself to a new life. There was, however, one milestone: Dad.

That evening Gene cooked steaks and baked potatoes and made a simple salad with fresh dressing. Dad was working on some plays in his study and didn't come when first called. At least he wasn't drunk. Gene put rolls in the oven, hoping the familiar scent would draw him out. It worked. He strolled around, sniffing about the kitchen, "So, what's the occasion?"

Gene hesitated before he spoke, afraid that a wrong word would start an argument, "Dad, I've got to talk with you about something. I fixed a special meal so that you would maybe listen before you made a decision."

"Yeah," Dad's tone could be better, " well I hope it isn't my `last supper'. What do you want to talk about? Need money?"

Gene trembled inside, feeling the need to get some placating food into the man, "Could we talk while we eat? The rolls will be ready in a couple of minutes and I would rather talk over supper. We can fill our plates while waiting and then sit down. I need to explain the situation to you."

"OK," Dad agreed. A good sign.

They ate while Gene explained all that he wanted to do. Dad made some funny faces when Gene told him about the ear piercing, but when he quickly added that Dad would have to give his permission for it, Dad rumbled and spoke, "Look Gene, I know that you and Scott have done some crazy things for Halloween but this may take the cake. Why do you want to impersonate girls?"

Gene's enthusiasm for the project rose as he spoke, "Not just `girls,' Dad, cheerleaders. We won't get a chance to do it again, at least here anyway. A lot of people will be expecting us to do something weird, like usual, but we want to do something that will surprise everyone this year. This is the opportunity to pull-off a grand stunt right under their noses!"

Dad shook his head slowly, "You mean you want to pull something over on Principle Wagner."

Gene nodded and added determined mug, "Especially him, since he figured-out that we were going to use his VW for our pirate ship before we could do it last year."

"OK, Gene. Just don't get me in trouble with him," Dad said with a sigh. Gene grinned and slipped a bite of steak into his mouth.

 

The Friday of the carnival came and now, after school, Gene had just been informed that he and Scott had an appointment at the beauty salon. They balked, this hadn't been part of the plan. Soon they found themselves not only at the mercy of Susan and Lisa, but also two other cheerleaders, Patty and Janie, and a tall beautician named Nancy. The boys were ushered into a back room where they were given first-hand experience in all that women go through to facilitate their attractiveness to men.

First, their faces were waxed. This was a definite necessity for Scott, who was already shaving nearly everyday, but Gene was getting into puberty a little late. At seventeen, he didn't really have whiskers, he mostly had peach fuzz. Nonetheless, both boys failed to enjoy the facial waxing, and let all know it with their miserable, morbid howls as the hair was yanked from their skin. They didn't object any less when the same treatment was applied to their legs. After this torture, the boys received an unexpected bonus of sculptured nails, Scott's in red and Gene's in a very shiny lavender-pink. Scott's wig was secured next and he dressed while Gene received his haircut.

Nancy first washed his hair and applied a warm, flower scented conditioner. After several minutes the conditioner was rinsed out and he was led into the beauty parlor proper for the cut. He sat there, in that chair, with every eye in the place riveted to him. Or at least he felt that way. Actually he only received a few looks before the others went about their business. "God, Nancy, everybody is looking at me," he said quietly. "Don't be silly. They only looked and then went on doing whatever they were doing. They've seen boys in here before." Nancy gave some reassurance but not much.

Gene smirked, "Yeah, but how many boys do they see getting a girl's haircut?"

"Oh, a few," Nancy countered. "They used to make a big deal out of me coming here until I started working here."

Gene was a bit confused, "They made a big deal out of you cutting boys' hair like girls'?"

"No silly," Nancy stopped combing Gene's wet hair and looked him in the face, "they made a big deal out of me getting my hair styled like a girl's." There was still confusion on Gene's face. Nancy propped a fist on her slim hip with a small jerk that shook her exposed cleavage and sent a waft of cinnamon toward Gene's face. She leaned forward, touching his ear slightly as she admitted, "I'm a boy. Didn't Susan tell you?"

"Well...no...," Gene stammered in a small voice. He stared at her. Nancy was pretty. She had high cheekbones and expressive eyes. Her breasts were large and her hips were slim but well rounded beneath a small waist. Slim but shapely legs extended from her short uniform skirt. "You...you are a boy?"

"Yes," Nancy said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I look like a girl, I enjoy being a girl, but I'm still a boy under this skirt."

Gene was dumb founded, "But you...you have..." He made cupping motions towards his chest with both hands.

"Yeah. I take female hormones. They give me everything a real girl has with a few small exceptions, the main one is that thing hanging between my legs," she spoke as she returned to Gene's hair.

Gene sat quietly for many minutes as his hair fell in wet clumps on the bib around his neck. Straight bangs were clipped at about nose level. This line was carried at an angle down to the bottom edge of his hair and then the sides were layered. Nancy stopped clipping, evening the blunt line bottom behind his neck. The chair rotated and Gene viewed his new cut.

"Well, whatcha think?" Nancy asked.

Assessing the damage, gene was undecided, "It's different than I usually cut it but I can't tell exactly what it looks like. Why did you cut around the back? I thought that you were only going to cut the front."

The buxom hairdresser explained, "It just wouldn't look right to leave it tacky in the back and pretty in the front. Tell you what, I'm gonna roll your hair so that it will be nice and full," she tapped him on the head with a comb. Quickly, expertly, she rolled his hair and clapped the bonnet of a portable dryer over his head. Then, throwing her leg over his, she attacked his eyebrows with gold-colored tweezers. Painfully jerking away hair after hair, complaining to Gene to stop wincing, she finished and barely gave him a view before moving him to a dryer chair. He sat obediently with his head spinning under the hot air and smell of old permanents until Nancy returned to check for dryness. Well done. Taking him by the arm and leading him toward the back room, "Got somethin' back here ta' show ya."

Directing him into a curtained area, Lisa stood, in her uniform, waiting for him. At least, at first glance it was Lisa. But with closer inspection, Scott smiled at him from under a ton of make-up and a curly mass of hair that really looked like Lisa's.

Gene stood looking for a moment before Scott asked, "Do I look like Lisa?"

Grinning at his friend, "Enough. As long as nobody notices your knobby knees you'll pass for her."

Scott donned an odd expression, "I'm beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea after all."

Chuckling, Gene responded, "You're standing there looking like that and wondering if this is a good idea? This is not the time to get wet feet. Besides, if we pull this off even for a short time, we'll be famous...sort of."

Nancy tugged on his arm, "Over here, boy. We've got some more to do before you're ready to go." She sat him on a stool and took out a strange gun. After wiping the lobes of his ears with alcohol, she clipped the gun to his right lobe and pulled the trigger. A diamond stud punched through the lobe and was secured in back. The procedure was repeated on his left lobe. Gene looked up at Scott, "I've got to go through with this. I've gone too far to stop."

"Don't be so down, boy," Nancy piped in. "This will be an evening you won't forget. You're gonna look so good! Susan herself won't even be able to tell you from her." She pulled him from the chair and led him to the back room, where the girls were waiting to fix his face and dress him.

Gene was ordered to go behind a partition and strip. Lisa held a pair of very elastic panties over the wall and instructed him to "tuck `himself' well" so that his 'thing' wouldn't show as a big bulge in the dance belt. This was followed by a beige girdle with thick padding in the butt and on the hips. Next were the panty hose. He tried to pull the sheer nylon on as if it were a cotton sock, but his new, long nails ripped the sheer material to shreds.

"No, no," Susan scolded him, "like this." She opened a new package, marched around the cover, and gave Gene 'hands-on' instructions on the proper way to don panty hose. A blue dance belt followed. The result was a smooth, flat surface between his legs.

Gene's balls were crushed up inside his body, "What do I do when I have to pee?"

The girls laughed and Lisa commented, "You pull it all down. But don't tear your hose. Use your knuckles and not your nails." Gene stood with a dumb look on his face. "What's the matter?" Lisa asked.

"Which bathroom do I use?"

There was more laughter, Susan offered, "Use the girl's room, but get a hold of one of us to clear it for you first." Gene was handed the short, blue and white skirt to slip into, then he was told to come around the screen. The girls enclosed his torso within a long line bra, containing silicon falsies sewn into the cups. With the straps in place, jumping up and down and around produced a natural appearing wiggle. The girls sprayed him with Opium and pulled Susan's letter sweater over his head. He was then ushered to a chair where Susan carefully painted his face as she would her own.

Nancy came back when Susan finished and took down Gene's hair. Gently pulling a brush through it released the fresh scent of flowers. She finished by fluffing high it with her fingers. Retrieving a mirror from a nearby table, she held it so that Gene could see himself.

Gene looked but saw Susan sitting there, only she had shorter, fuller hair. Suddenly, wide-eyed, he realized 'Susan' was his reflection. He looked around for her, finding her near Scott. Taking the mirror and walking to Susan, he held the mirror next to her face so that he could compare his face with hers. "Good God," he uttered softly.

Susan was already gazing in amazement. She took the mirror from Gene and held it next to his face so that she could make the same comparison. Their faces were nearly identical. Gene's lips appeared fuller than they really were because of the dark pink lipstick, his eyes were slightly smaller but not so much as to notice, and his nose was a little wider at the bottom, but there was no other real difference. She gasped, "We look like me!" Everyone laughed, except Gene and Susan, both of whom were still too shocked to find humor in her words. The effect was quickly washed away as the others continued to laugh, and Susan and Gene joined in, also.

"OK," Nancy announced, "time to get that fall attached so that I can get on to my other customers." Nancy snatched the hairpiece from a cabinet. Sitting next to Gene, she began gently coaxing the bottom and sides of his hair back, to prevent flattening the lift provided by the curlers. A little bun was made on the back of his head. To this, she securely fastened the wavy, cascading fall. Where they joined, the indent, was covered by a soft, thick, white silk ribbon tied on top in a large, floppy bow. Nancy carefully nursed the remaining feathered sides and bouncy bangs into place and then secured the girly, feminine style with hair spray.

The girls tied sneakers on Gene's feet and he hesitantly walked to a full length mirror that hung on a nearby wall. Susan joined him. Now dressed alike, and with perfectly matching hair, there was no noticeable difference between the boy and the girl. They were the twins, virtually identical twins, not Scott and Susan but Gene and Susan. The twins compared themselves, giggling, joining the others several minutes later.

The group chatted and laughed until Gene realized that it was late. "What time is it?" he asked with worry.

"I don't know," Nancy answered. "'Bout six-fifteen."

Shock overcame the boy's face and he staggered, "Oh, God. I've got to get home and get supper ready. It wouldn't do to have gone through all of this and have Dad get pissed and not let me go now. Give me a ride home quickly, Scott," he said to Lisa.

"OK," Scott responded from the other side of the room.

Gene bent in an obvious look at Lisa's knees. He straightened to look into her face, "Sorry, Lisa." They all laughed.

Gene walked with trepidation through the back door. The TV was on. He was crossing the kitchen toward the living room when Dad called out, "Is that you Gene?" Dad had been drinking but didn't sound completely loaded yet.

"Yes, Dad."

"Late aren't you?" Dad suddenly appeared at the kitchen entrance. There was rage in his eyes. Gene shut his eyes tight and steeled himself in anticipation of an impact. "Oh! I'm sorry, Susan. I thought that Gene came in."

One of Gene's eyes popped open, then the other. He stood for a moment not sure of what to say. Dad started to say something but Gene cut him off, "It's me, Dad. Gene."

Dad hesitated, his mind clouded by the alcohol and his son's voice coming from the neighbor girl. "Son-of-a-bitch!" he blared as his mind put the picture in his eyes together with the conversation of a few weeks before. "That's you, Gene?!"

"Yes." Gene stiffened in fear of a fist crashing into his face.

"Hoooly shit! I don't believe this! Hoooly shit! Holy shit." Dad stepped back a couple of steps, gawked, and then walked into the kitchen. Gene relaxed some, but remained afraid that maybe Dad might be going for a knife to kill him. Dad called, "Come over here in the light so I can see you better. I don't believe this!" Gene stepped near his dad who walked around the boy, taking a through account of every detail. "I can't believe that that's you. You're pretty. I mean, you look exactly like Susan. Damn, you look just like a girl, just like Susan." He surveyed his feminine son for another moment, "Damn, Gene, you're pretty."

Gene was taken back by his dad's rare behavior. Well, it wasn't actually rare, in fact, this might have been how he would act if he had been taking such stock of Mom, but Gene had certainly anticipated a punch in the face. Dad looked past Gene toward the empty stove, "It's

too late to cook supper now. Let's go get a burger or maybe we could go to a restaurant. We haven't gone out to eat in a long time."

Gene's mouth hung open. It took nearly twenty seconds before his brain overcame the shock. Words came slowly for him, "Ah, you want to go out to eat somewhere with me? Dressed like this? As a girl?"

"Hey, the cheerleaders go everywhere in their uniforms. The first time I noticed Lorrain was at the movies. She was wearing her cheerleader uniform. Of course, the uniforms then weren't as fancy or as pretty as they are now, but there is still a pride that goes with wearing them. Come here," Dad led Gene into his bedroom, "I want to show you some pictures of your mom in high school." Gene had seen the family album before but followed along rather than take a chance on disturbing Dad's good mood.

Dad went to the side closet instead of the main closet where the album was. He dug around and pulled a flat box from a stacks of boxes. "I've got pictures here that you haven't seen before. I was pretty obsessed with your mom after I met her. I think she would have waited for me instead marring your dad if she had known that I didn't die in Vietnam. But then, that was your grandparent's fault. A lot of things would have been different if they hadn't started hiding my letters." Dad was distant for a moment before going on, "Anyway, I took these pictures the last two months of her junior year. I had already enlisted and two weeks after I graduated, I was in boot camp. We would have gotten married if it wasn't for that. She wanted to finish school. I missed her senior year and I missed her for nine more years after that." He sat on the bed and opened the box. Gene sat on the opposite side of the box from him.

There were pictures of Mom in many different scenes. Most were of her in her cheerleader's uniform, but many were just every day shots, the drug store, the movies, a baseball game, sitting under a tree, etc. Dad reminisced with every picture but sat a minute holding a picture of Mom in a shiny black evening gown before he spoke, "She was so pretty. Her blonde hair and big smile were always shining. I loved your mother ever since our first date. With our first kiss, I felt that I would spend the rest of my life with her. Now that she's gone..." A tear rolled down his cheek.

Gene let a few tears roll, too. Even though he was reminded of his own sense of loss, he had pretty much cried-out his grief in the months following his mother's death. Now, he was able to hold back most of the tears and save his make-up. "Dad, if we're going to go eat, we need to leave soon." Gene had to accept Dad's idea because he needed to be at the pep rally in less than an hour otherwise all his pain and effort would be lost.

Glancing at his watch, Dad asked, "It's fifteen till seven Gene. Don't you need to be at the school by seven-thirty?"

Dropping his mother's pictures onto the bed, "Yeah, Dad. A few minutes earlier wouldn't hurt."

Deliberating on the way to the car, they agreed that Lucy's restaurant would be the quickest meal. Gene was reluctant, afraid of being spotted in a place so near the school. It was a premonition. As he walked in, several kids from school smiled and waved. Gene waved back, doing his best 'Susan' imitation. After traveling down the buffet line, they sat away from Susan's admirers. The waitress came by to collect the trays. Her name was Cindy Reed and she sat next to Susan in algebra.

She leaned over and said, "Hi, Susan. Aren't you cutting it a little close to the pep rally to be eating? Won't it make you sick?"

"I'm used to it," Gene tried to sound like Susan.

"Hoarse from yelling?" Cindy asked.

"Yeah," Gene wanted to cut the conversation sort.

Dad interrupted, "Excuse me, Cindy. I forgot a tea spoon, could you get me one?"

"Sure, Mr. O'connor. Talk to you later, Susan." She left to get the spoon, returning it with just a smile and a wave.

Sighing in relief, "Thanks, Dad. I was afraid if I said one more thing she would get suspicious." The couple ate the rest of the meal in peace and small talk.

They made it to the school with several minutes to spare. There, Gene ran to the girl's locker room to meet with the rest of the cheerleaders. Upon arriving, he learned that Scott had been discovered by the remaining four cheerleaders who weren't aware of the intended deception. Susan and Lisa hadn't arrived yet so Gene was greeted with, "Hey, Susan your brother didn't pull-off his `Lisa' disguise very well." Gene was at a loss for what to say. He tried to think of something that Susan would have said. Scott grinned at him strangely. Gene smiled, having just come upon the most perfect line: "I told him that he was going to have to find a better way to attract men than this."

The reply received a long, "Oooooohhh...," from the group and Scott protested loudly calling his sister a bitch. They all laughed and no one questioned that 'Susan' was not herself. Gene headed for Susan's locker, through the odor of stale sweat and foot powder, to get her pom poms and horn, just as planned. The others continued to pick on Scott. Lisa ran in. They began razzing her, but Gene immediately caught the urgency in her eyes.

Lisa made it to her locker as the rest of the team was agreeing to let Scott give cheerleading a try. She caught Gene by the arm and pulled him into a private conference behind Susan's locker door, "Susan and I were leaving her house a few minutes ago. We were going down the back steps. The dog was sleeping there. We didn't see it and Susan stepped on it and it took-off. Susan fell off the steps and broke her ankle. I heard it snap. She's on the way to the hospital now."

Gene felt panicky, "No! What are we going to do?"

"Well, don't freak-out. Do they know about you yet?" Lisa asked. Gene shook his head. Lisa made two quick "halting" motions with her hands, "OK. OK. Let's not tell them just yet. They're going to let Scott go out there for me, there's no reason for you not to go out there, too. You'll just have to stay out there all through the rally." Gene froze.

"All right girls," Mrs. Franklin, the cheerleader squad organizer had come into the locker room, "it's show time. I want to see everybody's dance belt as you leave. Let's go. Let's go." The girls grabbed their equipment and headed for the door. Passing by Mrs. Franklin, each girl lifted the back of her skirt, exposing her dance belt. Gene and Scott followed suite. Lisa hid in her locker until after Mrs. Franklin left and then took a concealed place near the stadium entrance where she could watch the others.

The cheerleaders made a dramatic entrance and lead a quick cheer. Then, skipping and bouncing and running to the entrance of the boy's locker room, they cheered in the football team. Flashing their poms and jumping for the sky, they yelled as the team ran in. As the last jock ran from the entrance, the squad was to follow. Lisa/Scott was the closest to the last man in the line and was to be the first to step out behind him. Scott's first two steps were clear, but he had misjudged the jock's speed and his third step landed in front of the guy's left foot. The jock's right foot hooked around Scott's calf and they both fell, rolling across the ground. With the forward motion, Scott's head managed to contact the next player's foot. The encounter tangled the ends of Scott's wig round the player's foot and it was ripped from his head, taking small patches of scalp with it.

At first everybody thought it was just a funny accident. But with the guy untying the wig from his foot and Scott sitting, holding his head, and swearing, the hoax was quickly realized by everyone. The school newspaper photographers jumped for shots and Principal Wagner ran to find-out what was going on. Armed with the information, he returned to the podium as Lisa ran from hiding to join the others. Explaining the hoax to the laughter of the crowd, he thanked Scott for his participation in the pep rally and his 'fine imitation' of Lisa. Apparently no one had told him about Gene. Gene searched the crowd and spotted his Dad. He sat, arms crossed over his chest, his right thumb held erect, a big grin across his face.

The squad led two more cheers. Gene performed flawlessly. Scott was escorted from the field to the locker room, where his wounds were treated. Coach Thomas, the football coach, made a few remarks more than was necessary while covering for Principal Wagner, who had ducked into the locker room to chew on Scott's behind for the stunt. Two more cheers ended before Wagner had his fill and returned to make announcements.

While he was speaking, the squad gathered in a clump on the sidelines and were whispering among themselves. Julie Cress, the head cheerleader had noticed some discrepancies in Susan's performance and, knowing of Scott and Gene's stunts from past carnivals, revealed Gene's fraud. The girls were tickled that Gene had managed to fool them for so long and were amazed at his resemblance to Susan. Lisa explained Susan's accident. No one even flinched when Julie said, "Well, Gene, you're just going to have to be one of us tonight."

Principal Wagner finished, the girls led three more cheers, and then closed the rally with the school song.

The cheerleaders led the team from the field and then returned to their locker room laughing and congratulating Gene on his debut as a female cheerleader. Mrs. Franklin was in the locker room pacing in anger, "You girls think that you were pretty cute helping that boy pull off this stunt. Well you're not cute! That was a horrible display out there and you all were the laughing stock of the school. Lisa, how could you let him impersonate you out there? And Susan, you must have helped in this charade. What gave you the audacity to believe that your brother could pull this off? You should be ashamed of yourself. All of you should."

"Lighten-up you old crab," Julie cut her off. "It was fun and they laughed at Scott, not at us. And lay-off Susan! Her brother did this stunt, not her."

Mrs. Franklin sneered above Gene as he sat on a bench, still unaware of exactly whom she was making cower, "You ungrateful little witch. I'm going to see you removed from this squad and maybe Susan, too!"

"No you won't!" Julie quietly exclaimed into the old cow's face. "You won't do anything about it because there are eight witnesses here that will tell Principal Wagner about your drinking the night you side-swiped that car with the school van after the Marshall game."

The others rose with agreeing "uh-uhs" and "yeahs." Gene joined in. Mrs. Franklin left in a huff.

"You were so cool!" Lisa exclaimed while grabbing Gene and hugging him. Then grabbing Julie, "You, too, you brazen bitch." The girls all whooped in victory cheers and hugged each other and Gene. Julie suggested that they head for the carnival and have a good time. All agreed.

Gene wondered the crowded halls looking for his cohort in crime. A football player told 'her' that her brother had put his wig back on and went to the carnival. Gene had searched several halls when he heard a "Susan, Susan," coming from behind him. Remembering that he hadn't been exposed yet, that everyone still thought he was Susan, he stopped and turned to inform the person calling for Susan of the deception. But as he turned, he was swept from the floor, into a bear hug by a big, jock type. The jock crushed Gene against his chest and kissed him firmly on the lips. Gene tried to struggle but the guy easily kept him suspended above the floor.

He questioned the resistance, "What's the matter? I haven't seen you for over a month, haven't even talked to you all week and you don't even want to kiss me?" The big guy was passionately looking into Gene's eyes.

Realizing that this was Bill Flanders, Susan's boyfriend, a sophomore at State U., and star of their junior wrestling team, Gene made an effort to explain, but Bill again pulled their faces together.

Gene pushed hard against Bill's shoulders. His hands slid over the smooth jacket and his arms flailed behind the jock's thick neck. The scent of Old Leather filled Gene's sinuses. With their lips pressed solidly together, Gene was conscious of a kind of need in Bill's kiss. He relaxed a little and felt that Bill seemed to be desperately searching for his kiss to be returned with the same passion he was sending out.

Gene stopped struggling and discovered that Bill's seeking, firm kiss was very pleasant. Bill continued and Gene began to kiss back in unexpected response. His arms slowly closed around the heavy shoulders and his lips moved in his own fervent kiss. For several minutes they were there, face to face, with Gene suspended helplessly, willingly, above the ground.

Lowering his girlfriend and releasing his overpowering grip, Bill retained their burning kiss a few more moments. Gene was lost, his mind blanked, he couldn't respond, even after his lips had been released. Bill peered deep into his girlfriend's eyes, "You haven't kissed me like that in a long time. I can't remember you ever being so ardent over my kissing. What's happening here?" Bill spoke softly into Susan's eyes.

His mind was foggy and he felt faint, but Gene had an overpowering desire to continue the passion. Groping, feeling his arms still around Bill's shoulders, he pulled himself back to Bill's face. Engulfed with a sense of fullness, of completeness never felt before, he pressed firmly, letting lips dance to this passion and pleasure he now enjoyed.

"You two stop this. If you must display your affections, then go outside," a faculty member was trying to separate the pair.

They did separate, but Gene could hardly walk and Bill had to support him to a nearby window sill to sit. With his mind beginning to clear, he looked into Bill's face with the intention of explaining the situation to him. But what came out was: "My God, can you ever kiss!"

Bill expressed confusion at this remark, saying, "I've tried to kiss you like that before but you never let me."

Gene tried to huff out the explanation and was somewhat successful, "I..hope...that you don't kill me after what just happened but you don't understand." His voice was deep, sexy, still overwhelmed by the experience. "This is a case of mistaken identity. I know who you are but I am not who you think I am."

"Stop your little game," Bill whispered. He leaned forward and kissed his girlfriend again, lightly on the lips. Gene swooned, at first leaning into the warm kiss and then pushing himself away with weak effort. He tried again for another kiss but Gene felt that he had to resist because another kiss from this man might cause him to pass-out for sure. He fell backward against the window in avoidance.

"Wait. Hold it." Gene tried to gain some strength but it was as lost as his mind had just been. His hands pressed against Bill's wide shoulders but supplied no resistance. "Look, didn't Susan tell you about me?"

"What?" Bill was bewildered.

Gene forced words from his mind and throat, "Did Susan tell you about the prank that her brother and his friend, Gene, were going to pull tonight?" Bill slowly nodded that he had been told. Gene feebly held out his hand for a shake, "I'm Gene O'connor, Scott's friend."

Bill drew back in puzzlement. His mind fit the pieces together and his eyes grew wide in astonishment, "Fucking shit! I just kissed a guy?"

Gene motioned "yes" with his head and drew back onto the window sill to put as much distance between himself and Bill as he could. Bill rubbed his hands over his face a couple of times and then said, "Hey, I'm sorry, man. I didn't know. Sorry I forced myself on you."

Gene wanted to be friendly and to act like he accepted Bill's apology as what had actually happened, but the lack of clarity of Gene's mind was still evident: "Hey, no problem. You can kiss me like that anytime you want to."

Bill was quick to respond with a drawn fist, "What are you, some kind of faggot?!"

Gene jerked into the ball he used to protect himself from his father's pounding fists, his face pressed into his legs and his head wrapped in his arms. Shaking violently in fear, he whimpered lightly as if he were a beaten puppy.

Bill had never encountered such extreme fear in anyone. His anger stopped. Instead of animosity, he felt compassion for 'this girl' who appeared to be in fear for her life. His heart melted a little. Unsure of what to do, he reached out and tapped her on the knee, "Hey. Look, I'm not going to hit you. OK?" Gene didn't move. "Really. I'm not going to hit you."

Still shaking, Gene slowly unrolled. Suspiciously he watched Bill from the corner of his eye. Bill looked at him with the sympathy he reserved for an abused pet. Even aware that 'Susan' was a boy, Bill saw only a frightened girl. He reached out to her, "Let me help you up."

Gene cautiously laid his hands in the outstretched palms and lowered his feet to the ground. As he stood, he came between Bill's outstretched arms and into his heavy aroma.

"I won't hurt you," Bill said and somehow the words sank into both of them. They stood, held in that pose, until their eye-locked gaze was disturbed by the noise of the crowd around them. Bill spoke again, "I'm sorry I scared you." Gene diverted his eyes to the floor. Needing a response and some time with this soft person, Bill tried a diversionary tactic, "Ahh, look, can I get you something to drink or something?"

Gene shook his head "no" but didn't move. Their hands drifted down but failed to disconnect. They stood still, engulfed in a long silence.

Gene's mind wouldn't function; he didn't understand what was happening, why he reacted with so much fear. He hadn't balled-up like that for months. Standing for this time seemed to clear his mind but he still couldn't say anything.

Double-inhaling a deep breath, Bill spoke again, "Can I see your face?" Gene lifted his head slightly but halted short of eye contact. "I really would like to see your face," Bill said softly. Gene reluctantly looked up. Carrying Gene's hand in his, Bill traced Gene's cheeks and chin with a finger. Silently, he compared the features he touched to Susan's. Gene remained motionless but began to release his taught muscles as he watched Bill's eyes following the gentle contact of his finger. Bill marveled at the resemblance, "You don't look exactly like Susan but the resemblance is uncanny. You could easily be her twin." He touched the curves of Gene's nose with his finger, still without releasing his grip of Gene's hand. "You're pretty," Bill said faintly, and then, supporting Gene's face with a finger under his chin, Bill leaned and softly kissed this girl. Gene fainted.

It was dark. The air was cool. Gene's sanity came to him slowly and he was conscious of lying in the grass. His head wasn't on the ground, instead it rested on Bill's thigh as he sat in the grass. "Hi," Bill said as Gene's blue eyes opened.

"What happened?"

Bill grinned, "You don't know?"

"I'm not sure."

Bill grinned wider, "It isn't important. Do you feel like you can stand up?"

"I think so. My head is kinda disconnected from me, or something. I think I passed out." Gene rose to a sitting position and turned to face Bill, "Did you carry me out here?"

Looking around, he sucked in a breath, "I thought the cool air would bring you around."

Gene's head was becoming more solid, "I did faint. And you carried me out here."

Looking into his pseudo-girlfriend's eyes, "See, you know more than you think."

Gene's eyes grew wide, "You kissed me!" Bill nodded with a raised eyebrow. "Why? You knew I wasn't Susan. You, you even knew I wasn't a girl. Why?"

Bill looked at his feet and pursed his lips before answering, "I don't know. I've been sitting here asking myself that while waiting for you to come 'round. I don't have an answer."

They sat for nearly ten minutes, neither saying anything, neither looking at the other for more that a moment before diverting his eyes. Bill leaned back in the grass and looked at the sky, "I've always enjoyed watching these skimpy clouds drifting across the stars when they're so

bright. I used to stay awake for hours and watch them from my bed."

Gene peered at him from the side of his face, "Yeah. Me, too. I never looked for shapes, I just watched them move by."

"Yeah." They kept a quiet vigil for another ten minutes. Gene eased down, placing his head again on Bill's thigh. The carnival blared behind them, but held silent where they lay.

Gene started and jerked up to face Bill, "Susan! She fell and broke her ankle!"

"Oh, man!" Bill sat up, "When?"

"Just before the pep rally."

Bill sighed, "Well, there goes my date for our homecoming dance tomorrow."

Gene corrected him, "You mean your homecoming."

Bill looked at him, "No. I mean 'our.' State's homecoming dance is tomorrow night, also. Susan and I were going to go." Bill stood and offered a hand to Gene. He got up. They held the view of each other for a moment. "Hey, well, can I drop you at home or anything?" Bill asked. Gene cast his eyes down while shaking his head. "OK. Well, maybe I should just kiss you goodnight here," Bill said it in an almost joking manner.

Gene's head flew up, eyes wide in surprise. His lips parted but no words would come forth. Bill stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the lips and then stepped back, "You know, you kiss pretty damn well yourself." He dropped his head, turned, and walked away with his hands in his pockets.

Gene watched the young man cross the street, climb into an MG, and drive away. Suddenly inhaling, he wasn't sure of when he had taken his last breath. Turning, he headed for the carnival but veered to the left; home was two blocks away and the walk in the cool night air would be nice.

 

 

"Hey, Gene," Dad was shaking his shoulder, "Wake up. Susan is downstairs. She wants to talk to you."

Gene gained consciousness and pushed himself to a leaning sit. "Dad, tell her I'll be down in a minute. I got to go to the bathroom first." Dad nodded and left. Gene pulled himself out of bed and headed for the toilet. It took him a minute to remember why he was wearing panties and when he did, he couldn't remember what happened to the shoes, panty hose, or skirt. He was still wearing Susan's letter sweater and bra although the cups were listing twenty degrees to starboard. He took care of business, straightened out his boobs, and grabbed a pair of jeans from his room on the way downstairs.

Climbing into his pants before reaching the bottom of the stairs, he strolled into the living room. Susan was standing on one leg and two crutches. Her left foot was encased in a cast up to about mid-calf and the cast was supported by a strip of nylon belting looped over a belt that

hung awkwardly from one hip and down over her rear. When she caught sight of Gene she burst out laughing.

"OK. So what's so funny?" Gene stood with one hand on his hip.

Susan pushed-out between giggles, "Have you looked at yourself yet?"

Gene staggered to the wall mirror. He winced at a face that was a patch work of beige tones and smeared shadows. Lipstick was a barely visible smudge that extended from his lips, nearly to his left ear. His hair was smashed up and back on one side and the fall hung loosely toward the right. "Yech. I look like a College Station hooker after A&M won the state championship."

Susan exploded into laughter and fell onto the couch. After recovering, she had some interesting news for Gene. "Bill came to see me this morning. We passed some small talk and he commented that it was too bad we couldn't go to the dance. I said, `Sorry to disappoint you.' As soon as I said that, he looked at me and asked, `That boy that impersonated you last night, Gene, could you ask him if he would go with me in your place?' I think that he was honestly more interested in having you cover for me than in me going with him. Can you believe that?"

Trying to mask his excitement, Gene asked, "Did you tell him I would do it?"

She read his excitement in astonishment, "Well, no. You want to go on a date with Bill?"

Looking at his hands to avoid eye contact, "Well, I..., well it wouldn't, like, really be a date or anything. I mean, I would just be helping him out. You know, I mean he seems like a nice guy and all, and it would really be a shame if he missed his homecoming dance just because his date couldn't make it, you know, since he is so nice and everything. It would especially be a shame since he could still go if he got a date, but then he would have to go back to the campus to get a date, which he could only do this late if he got lucky. But you wouldn't want that, would you? After all, what kind of date could he get at the last minute. Some dog, I'm sure. At least I look enough like you to pass as a good looking date for him. He wouldn't have to walk into the dance with `Miss Loser' hanging on his arm. See, its kinda important for a guy to..."

"Alright!" Susan looked at him suspiciously, "What happened between you two last night?"

Chancing her anger, the boy looked pleadingly into her eyes, "Susan, can I go in your place? I mean, aahh, I'm no threat to you. I'm a boy and Bill isn't interested in boys or anything. At least, I don't think he is, or else he wouldn't be going with you, you know. See, there's no..."

"Stop!" she cut him off again.

Gene quietly stared into her eyes before he softly spoke, "I couldn't go if you don't help me with my make-up." There was more silence as Susan stared in amazement. "I would need a, a dress to wear, also. Maybe you would have one to fit me?"

Susan shook her head a little, "I don't believe this. All these years I've been living next to you and I never would have thought you were gay."

"I'm not gay!" Gene exclaimed assertively. He lowered his head, looking to the floor for an answer before he spoke calmly, in a far-off voice, "Sometimes something happens in your life and its just too important to dismiss it as dirty or stupid or, or wrong! No matter what others think about it, it is something that you have to explore. It's something that speaks to the rest of your life." He looked pleadingly at her, "Susan, I have to know what happened last night myself."

Susan gradually nodded in understanding, "You won't have any trouble fitting into my dress. What are you going to tell your dad?"

"I don't know." Gene thought a moment, "Dad will be busy at the game. He'll leave by six PM. I can tell him that some people want me to hang-out with them tonight--kinda like I've gotten some new friends from last night's stunt. Dad drinks after every game and will pass out by midnight. If I call him about eleven-thirty and tell him I'll be home in an hour, he'll go on to bed." He looked excitedly at Susan, "It will work!"

Almost as if she couldn't believe she was going along with this, Susan said, "I'll see if Lisa can spare some time before the game to help. But, you're going to have to get ready at my house. It's a long walk over here on crutches."

Gene hugged her while exclaiming, "Oh God. Thank you, Susan. Thank you. Thank you."

She struggled from the couch with Gene's help and headed for the door. As Gene opened it, she said, "I want my uniform back tonight, too."

 

Dad left about ten till six. Gene quickly cleaned-up from the supper he was too nervous to eat and headed for Susan's. Lisa couldn't come but Susan was prepared. Hanging from her closet door was a pretty party dress, the kind made of white lace panels, hanging from the waist and shoulders at different lengths. A pink ribbon snaked through each panel, near the edge. Its open, square, and low-cut collar would give a generous glimpse of cleavage. A first glance, one might think that it was a wedding dress rather than a party gown. Laid-out on the bed were nylons, panties, a half slip, and a strapless, long line bra with falsies lying inside the cups.

Gene tapped on Susan's window and she motioned for him to come in the back way, quietly. Entering the room, he walked straight to the dress, "Am I going to wear this?" Susan nodded affirmatively. He slid his hands among the panels and watched his long, pink nails as they moved behind the pretty lace. Turning to Susan, he smiled in approval, "It's very pretty."

Susan returned the grin, "I was hoping to impress Bill with it myself. Have fun wearing it but be careful, it tears easily."

Gene agreed, then asked, "Where's Scott? I don't know if I want him to see me wearing that."

Moving to sit at her vanity, she explained, "He and Daddy are watching some sports thing on TV and Mom is out shopping, but she should be home in a few minutes. I told them that my leg was bothering me and I didn't feel like trying to do anything tonight. They'll be leaving soon after she returns." Letting out a breath as if she were giving up something in frustration, she added, "Bill is going to pick you up at your house at eight, so we'll have to hurry. I was going to miss half the dance but you're only going to only miss the first half-hour or so, hope you can hold up."

"I'm in pretty good shape," Gene replied.

"Oookay," Susan grinned. She told him to strip and wear her robe while she went and ran a bath for him. He entered the bathroom to the heavy scent of flowers and musk emanating from the water. Susan motioned for him to get in as she hobbled from the room. Gene soaked in the warm water and listened to the sounds of the Younger family leaving. Susan called for him shortly and Gene met her in her room. She handed him a pair of tiger striped panties, quipping, "Here you go, tiger." Hopping to her vanity, she instructed him to sit on the floor in front of her. Pulling up a section of Gene's hair, she began rolling it on hot curlers, "I should have had you wash your hair but there isn't time. This shouldn't look bad though, your hair isn't dirty." They made some small talk as she worked. Susan was still curious about last night, which Gene avoided discussing, and she was also curious about how Gene was feeling in his feminine roll.

He had to think a moment, "It's strange in so many ways, yet it feels like I've done it before, but I haven't. Like when I was laying in bed, sliding my legs between the sheets again and again. The hairlessness of my legs was new to me but that smooth sensation was almost familiar. And the fall! I've never had hair that long and I could feel it resting on my shoulders and it felt normal instead of being out of place. And my nails! I've never had them so long but I haven't had near the trouble with banging them into things as Scott had."

Susan offered, "Maybe you were a girl in a previous life." Gene nodded, then quietly wondered about the remark. Susan waited for him to say something while winding four curlers before she asked, "Got you to thinking, didn't I?"

Gene twisted to look at her, "God that's weird. I never believed that reincarnation existed. I really have to wonder about that now."

Susan grinned and gave the last curler a little extra tug for effect. She ran her hand around Gene's chin. It was still smooth as a baby's butt from the waxing. "You won't need to shave. That means your make-up will look as smooth as it did last night."

She turned Gene to face her and began working on his face. Starting with a thin base coat, she dusted that with loose powder and carefully darkened his brows, emphasizing their graceful arch. Using purple and green shadows, she drew the blue from his eyes and with careful shading, Gene's cheekbones were as well defined as any woman's. Finishing was with generous coatings of mascara, dark red lipstick, and Channel no.19.

Susan then began to sculpt Gene's hair, first by removing the curlers and letting the curls spring free to cool. Next she coaxed the curls into a soft, smooth style, and held it in place with a ton of hair spray. Gathering the back together into a large curl, she tied it with a large white lace kerchief and further secured that in place by slipping a clip under it, from which hung seven pink ribbons that ended with teardrop pearls. Digging into her jewelry case, she removed two earrings, pearls with a teardrop pearl dangling from each, and screwed these into place next to the diamond studs in Gene's ears. She dug again and pulled out a double strand of pearls to place around Gene's neck. This was followed by two rings and a pearl bracelet. Rounding out the accessories was a nice watch with a pink band.

Gene was then instructed to dress. He removed the robe as Susan looked away and quickly stepped into the tiger-striped panties. With surprising ease and deftness, he slid into the pantyhose without creating one run. Susan, who had been peeking, was impressed since he had destroyed a new pair the day before. He then lifted the bra correctly to his chest without any instruction. Susan hooked it in the back and turned him to pull the device into correct position. In place, the strapless bra pulled slightly away from Gene's chest and didn't look right. Although the sides of the cups were in place, the falsies peeked out in the cleavage and looked as if they were stuck to his chest much like the Bots Dots (those reflective bumps) do when stuck to a flat road. She tried to pull up some skin from his chest up to cover them but the skin just returned to it's original position.

"Wait here," she said after a few moments of thought. She grabbed her crutches and hobbled to the garage, returning with a large can of spray adhesive. Pulling the bra down, she took each falsie, sprayed a generous helping of the adhesive on it, and stuck it below and toward the outside of each of Gene's nipples, instructing him to hold them in place while she sat down. She continued, "That spray should harden any second and those won't come off."

Gene jumped in shock and let go of the silicon boobs. The plastic forms remained firmly in place. He poked at them but they held fast. "How am I going to get these off?!" he yelled.

"Hey, calm down. They'll come off in awhile, but right now pull your bra back into place. Gene did so and the plastic boobs pulled Gene's skin along as they took their place in the cups. Suddenly, Gene had cleavage. "Yeah, thought that would work," Susan said proudly.

Gene slithered into the pretty dress. Stepping into the shoes was another problem. The tall, white heels were smaller and tighter than Susan's comfortable uniform sneakers. Gene squeezed in and took a few steps, "I don't think that I'll be able to walk in these all night." There was no alternative to try. Gene carefully stepped to the mirror. Susan held out a slender gold chain with a single pearl in the middle to grace his right ankle. Gene marveled at his reflection. He absolutely glowed with the radiance of a young woman. Turning slowly, he was excited by every feminine facet of his appearance.

Susan watched his joy, not knowing exactly what to make of it. "Here, one more thing," she said. Taking a wrist purse from a drawer, she filled it with perfume, powder, lipstick, a couple of tissues, and her driver's license, and then hung it over Gene's wrist. "Wait!" She hopped to the bathroom and called for Gene to join her. As he entered, Susan snatched the purse and pushed a tampon into the opening, "If anyone gets suspicious, offer to show them `your' license and while pulling it out drop this. That ought to convince them." Gene laughed.

Accompanying Susan back to her room, Gene was nervous, "Guess I should go and wait for Bill. It's almost time." Susan nodded agreement and offered Gene a hug. He gladly obliged and they hugged for a long time. As they released, Gene took Susan's hands and looked into her eyes, "Thank you, Susan. Thank you for all you've done."

With sincerity, Susan said, "It's been fun and you have fun tonight, too. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Remember, you're wearing my name as well as my favorite dress."

Gene grinned, "What shouldn't I do?"

"Well.." Susan held the pause until Gene grinned, then spoke, "Don't get drunk. You'll be OK as long as you keep your mind intact."

Gene gave her a little kiss on the cheek and left for his house. By the time he reached his back door, his feet hurt. Searching his mind for what to do, he thought of his mother's clothes. Removing the shoes before running into Dad's bedroom and then dropping them on the bed, he opened her closet. All her pretty clothes were there, protected with cellophane. Gene read the shoe boxes until he came to one that his mother had marked "White/pink heels." He stretched, and retrieved the box. Inside were a pair of white pumps with three and a half inch heels and thin pink stripes running from the underside of the big toe, across the shoe, around the side, down the heel, and ending at the heel cap. Taking one from the box, he slipped it on. It was a little loose, which was certainly preferable to the tight pain he had been experiencing. Donning the other, he appraised his view in the mirror, "Perfect." Bill knocked at the door and Gene ran down to meet his date. "Hello, Bill. Come in," Gene tried to hide his obvious excitement.

"Wow!" Bill took a few steps inside and turned to view his date, "You look fabulous. Beautiful."

"Why, thank you." Gene deliberately and gracefully shut the door in an effort to fight his desire to grab Bill and extract more of the passion that had so enthralled him the night before.

Bill read Gene's feelings and tried to put him at ease, "You've never been to a college dance before have you?"

"Ah, no," Gene responded dropping his eyes to the floor.

"You'll do just fine," Bill said while lifting Gene's face with a finger and gently kissing his lips. Gene ached for more but received Bill's words instead, "You're absolutely beautiful. It's a long drive. We'll need to leave now to avoid missing a lot of the dance."

"Yeah. Let's go," Gene was disappointed but opened the door to leave. He began to step out when he was grabbed by the arm and spun around.

Bill looked deep into his eyes, "I couldn't stand going anywhere with that droopy face sitting next to me." Gently pulling Gene against his chest, Bill firmly, passionately kissed his attractive date. Gene did likewise.

"Oooh, oh, 'scuse me Susuan."

Gene jumped at the voice from the doorway. He twisted his head to see Dad stumbling in, drunk almost to the point of falling over. Dad leaned against the door and pointed at Gene with a wobbly finger, "Susuan, you are exsteamly boou(hic)full. Whoo ist this luchy guy?"

Gene, still standing in Bill's arms, didn't answer but looked up at Bill and then back at his dad. Dad waited a moment and than started toward the couple with his hand outstretched, "I'mm Dirk O'connor." Bill removed his hand from Gene's back and introduced himself while shaking Dad's hand. "Glad tou met you, Bill. Annbody know where Gene is?"

Gene looked at Bill again before speaking, "I think he went over to see Scott."

"OK. I'll jus...whare's your cast?" Dad pointed in the general direction of Gene's feet. Again Gene didn't answer, but Dad had already caught-on as he peered into Gene's face with bleary eyes, "You're Gene! Whhat the fuck? You, you were kissin this guy. You faaget! God damn faaget! Get the fuck outa my house and doon't evfer come back! Go! Get out faaget!" Dad made a wild swing at Gene who lurched backward to avoid the fist. His knuckles slammed into Bill's chest, making him take a step back. Dad nearly fell over. Bill back-fisted him in the face and Dad was out cold before he hit the floor.

Bill had never lost his grip on Gene, who now began to cry. He wasn't releasing big tears, only a trickle from each eye. Bill pulled him to his chest, offering his handkerchief at the same time. "He's got a pretty good punch, especially for a drunk. What do you want to do?"

Gene bent down and kissed his dad on the cheek. "Leave him here. There is no way I'm going to stay here while he's drunk. Let's go. If he wakes up he'll drink more." Gene took Bill's hand and started out the door, "Wait." He went to a hall closet and pulled-out a pillow and a

blanket and covered his father. They left. Gene made sure the door was locked. At the car, this time a big Ford, Bill opened Gene's door first and supported his arm as he slid in.

The drive took about forty-five minutes. Gene slowly recovered from the emotional ordeal and joined in the conversation that Bill was attempting to support by himself. He found Bill interesting in addition to attractive. Never before had Gene been so intrigued in another person

and while he didn't know why he was now, he allowed himself to be attracted and enjoyed the magnitude of his new feelings.

Bill wanted to be an engineer and architect and design highway systems. Describing some of his ideas absorbed Gene, and Bill was delighted with the probing and intelligent questions. He was also amused with the growling of Gene's stomach. "I take it that you haven't eaten."

"No. I didn't have time."

Bill leered a melodramatic appraising eye at his date, "You like Chinese."

Grinning, Gene said, "Steak."

"Oh. An all-American girl, huh. I know a good steak house but it's a little noisy."

Gene smiled and looked at Bill from the top of his eyes, "I've never minded noise as long as we can still talk."

Bill made an abrupt left into an industrial area near the college. On a corner, under a broken street lamp, stood "Pop's Steak House." Parking in the adjacent lot, he escorted Gene from the car. Nearing the entrance, the sound of men singing, accompanied by a poorly played piano, caused Gene to stop and question to Bill, "If this place is full of men and they find-out about me...well, are you going to protect me?"

"You're in no danger." Bill opened the door and Gene stared at a family affair. Kids were at many of the tables and a few were running around creating a ruckus. Women and men sat around in same-sex clusters but it quickly became apparent that most of these people were either husbands and wives or involved in some kind of romance with someone else in the place. Everybody was wearing shirt sleeves and jeans. Gene and Bill were the only ones there wearing something that couldn't be purchased at K-Mart. "Good steaks," Bill said loudly over the noise.

"Looks like fun, too," Gene commented. Bill's eyes grew wide in delight.

"Billy, Billy, Billy!" some guy wearing an apron wound up his voice over the singing.

"Hey, Pop. Got a quiet table?" Bill shouted back. "I'm here with a date."

Pop gave Gene a once over and held up a thumb. He motioned them to follow him to a table near the stage where the guys were belting out off-key music. Pop pulled out the chair for Gene and whispered in his ear, "The band will be out in twenty minutes. It will be quieter then." Then to them both he yelled, "T-bones and twice-baked potatoes tonight." Bill nodded "yes" and Pop left.

After finishing a song that could only have been known by those attempting to sing it, a big, young guy on the stage jumped off, grabbed Bill, and carried him to the stage. They started singing "D.I.V.O.R.C.E." and several women joined the chorus on stage. As they started "Blueberry Hill," Gene was hoisted onto the stage and spun into Bill's waiting arms. He had to stay there, in Bill's arms until the song was finished, which wasn't a bad place to be anyway. Pop showed on stage and began shooing everyone off so that the band could prepare. Four college students formed the band that specialized in "Simon and Garfunkel" and "The Mamas and the Papas" and other 60's and 70's stuff.

Pop brought steaks to the table along with a bottle of red wine, "I get a lot of college students in here. Bill has been coming for nearly a year, usually two or three times a week. You're the first girl he's ever brought here, and one of the best looking young women that has ever walked through those doors. Here, enjoy the wine and I hope we'll see you again."

"He's not your dad, is he?" Gene asked.

Bill explained, "No. Everybody calls him Pop. He really cares about the college kids that come here. He feeds many of them." They ate and talked, enjoying the music and atmosphere. There was homemade cherry cobbler for desert.

Stuffed to near immobility, the couple decided to head for the dance. As they made for the door, Bill was stopped by four young couples. Friends of Bill's, they had opted for "Pop's" instead of the dance. "So this is your cheerleader," one of the guys said. "She's pretty. Hi, I'm Richard and this is Sharon, David..." Introductions were made all around. But, when it came time for Bill to introduce his date, "This is Ge...Ge..." He looked at Gene with bewilderment.

It has been said that "necessity is the mother of invention," but fear has given birth to a few inventions also. Gene interrupted, "That's OK. Gigi is a family nickname that I can't seem to shake. You can call me Gigi, if you like." Bill turned to the group and smiled. A space was made at the table and Bill and "Gigi" joined in for what was supposed to be a few minutes. When the band took a break, several patrons began the impromptu coral section again and Bill's friends took turns on the stage, eventually dragging Bill and Gigi there also.

It was nearing midnight when Bill finally announced, "Hey gang, I promised Gigi that we would go to the dance and there's only about an hour left. We're going to have to leave." Goodbyes were said and the couple drove to the dance while carrying-on a running conversation about Bill's friends.

As they pulled into the parking lot at the student center, it was obvious that the dance hadn't been going well. There were only about thirty cars in the lot and a few couples standing outside. At a corner of the building some student was emptying his stomach. The security guards sat in a pick-up near the entrance, listening to the Grateful Dead at maximum volume.

They entered the hall. Canned music was playing and maybe fifteen couples were dancing. Gene looked around at the beautiful decorations and the colorful ribbons hanging from walls, the ceiling, and wrapped around poles. Balloons floated here and there. Sparkling lights above glimmered dreamily on the floor. Gene reached for Bill but he wasn't there. He had headed for the refreshment table to get the scoop on what had happened. Gene stayed until he returned.

He returned with the story, "The band got a little wild. They started smoking dope on stage and when the Dean told them to get out, one of the band members hit him in the head with a guitar. The police came to shut the place down but the Dean wouldn't let them. This happened only an hour into the dance. We may have missed the action but we can still dance," Bill offered his arm.

Gene accepted, "Perhaps it's better this way. Now there are fewer people to see you whence when I tread on your toes." Gigi leaned and rubbed his nose against Bill's. He escorted his lady to the floor where they danced through several songs.

A slow number began and the couple gradually decreased their movement to swaying. Bill kissed his date once, twice, again, until their swaying had ceased. "Come with me," Bill took Gigi's hand and led him out the back door to the riverbank.

Walking, talking, cuddling close to ward off the effects of a late South Texas autumn chill, they enjoyed the fragrance of a nearby rose garden and strolled slowly, Gigi's heels sinking in the soft dirt, until they came to a small grassy area surrounded with scattered low bushes. There they sat, at first talking, and then kissing. By and by, soft smooching gave way to impassioned desire. There was some confusion at first, Gigi's breasts were absolutely unresponsive but the burning in his chest carried them on. Soon, Bill's pants were pulled below his buns and Gigi sat atop him, rubbing his crotch against Bill's full erection. Bill slid his hands under Gigi's skirt to his waist and began to pull down his pantyhose.

"I get seconds!" some voice said. Above them hovered three street slime that had wandered onto the campus as they drank. Bill pushed Gigi to the side and tried to get up as he pulled his pants on. "Shoot that asshole," the slim leader of the thugs said. One of the gang responded by pulling a gun and putting a round into Bill's head. Bill lurched backward and rolled down the slope, stopping on some rocks below. Gigi watched in horror.

The leader laughed, "What's the matter sweetheart? You're not even screaming. He must not have meant that much to you, huh?"

Gigi did shriek and charged the leader. The hood's solid fist crashing into Gigi's right eye stopped his screams and staggered him. A fat crony, smashed Gigi's mouth with a swift right, lofting him into the air and sending him rolling down the slope. He came to a halt beside Bill's profusely bleeding head. Gigi tried to stand but his right foot became wedged among the rocks as his weight came over it. The fat crony hit Gigi in the face again. He arched backward over the rocks but his foot didn't move. His leg snapped. Gigi screamed in pain through the metallic tasting blood that filled his mouth from his broken lips.

The leader easily ceased his screaming by inserting a knife between Gigi's teeth and slightly into his throat. "Be quiet darling or you will end-up like your brave stud there," he grinned maniacally.

Taking no concern for his dangling leg, the gang pulled Gigi from the rocks and threw him to the ground. The cronies held each arm with a knee, as the leader knelt between Gigi's thighs. Keeping the knife on guard in his right hand, he took Gigi's skirt in his left, and pulled it over Gigi's head while sneering, "It's not that I don't think that you're pretty, darling, I'm just not interested in your face right now."

Gigi started to scream but the fat crony held a fat paw over his mouth. Blood leaking into his throat clogged his breathing. For the first time, Gigi realized that he was about to die. He thought about his mother, his dad, Scott and Susan and other friends, and about Susan's ruined dress. He couldn't see the leader but felt the cold blade of the knife as it was inserted between his skin and his underwear. With a flick, the blade pruned the material from his body.

"What the fuck! Hey fellas, look at this! This ain't no girl, it's a guy! We got us a couple of faggots here!" The leader leaned into Gigi's face, his nose pressed into Gigi's eye, "You want to be a girl, faggot? I can take care of that." The leader placed the knife near Gigi's penis and shoved it into his body. Gigi lurched, freeing his face, and screamed. "Shut-up faggot!!" the leader yelled. Gigi watched as the leader's right hand rose above his head, the darkened blade, red glinting in the moonlight, swung down hard toward his head. Gigi twisted as the knife smashed through his skull above his left ear.

 

Gigi was dreaming. At times he had nightmares, remembering the attack. At times he was in a hospital with nurses and doctors, Dad, Scott, Susan, and others coming in and leaving. Sometimes people would move the joints of his dream body, sometimes they would read or sit and talk. He kept dreaming but couldn't seem to wake-up. He dreamed the TV was on and he was listening to a news story about a new president and about a record snowfall and all kinds of other things that happened, but still he couldn't seem to wake. He tried to move but he felt disconnected from his body. He was small and far away. His body was in a dream that was different from the dream his head was in, which was different from the dream other people were in. He dreamed about when he was in school and about Bill. He was asleep on the couch and Bill was at the door. He woke up.

A hospital room. His eyes wouldn't focus well but he could see that. The sharp smell of alcohol and disinfectant brought back memories. He could see white uniformed figures moving in an open area on the other side of a window from him. He could hear them talk, hear the noises out there and they were real. This wasn't a dream.

He tried to move. With great effort, his weak hand rose on command from the sheet. Lifting it before his face, he viewed his long, lavender-pink nails and the tube taped to the back of his hand where the IV entered. Repeating the trial, he viewed his other hand. It was much the same. Trying to speak was impossible because of a long tube that filled his throat and mouth and was taped to his face. His weak hands again responded to command and took a hold of the tube. Barely able to pull it from his face, the tube inched from inside him until the end was exposed. His mouth was dry and he had to slosh his tongue around and over his teeth until there was enough lubrication to facilitate movement.

At first his vocal cords wouldn't work. Again and again he tried until sounds began to emanate from his throat. They were soft, high pitched, and weak, but after repeating them enough, one of the nurses in the open space turned and looked. Gigi raised one hand and waved with his fingers.

The nurse yelled something and ran toward him. The room rapidly filled with white suited personnel. "Hi," the nurse said.

With great difficulty Gigi spoke again, "Can I get some water?" One of the nurses bolted from the room.

The first nurse took a hold of his hand, "Do you know where you are?"

"I don't think I'm dead. This must be a hospital."

"Yes," she smiled. "Do you know what day this is?"

"No," Gigi said after some thought. "I think I heard that it was March first on the TV. Have I been asleep for five months?"

"No, sweetheart," the nurse said patting his hand, "you've been in a coma for two years and five months."

Gigi stared at the congregation. The nurse returned with a pitcher of ice water. Gigi took a few sips from the straw. With his throat wet for the first time in years, words came easier but questions welled so fast that he couldn't know what to ask first. He swallowed another gulp of water, "Anything to eat around here?" The crowd laughed and began leaving as the doctors took blood pressure, temperature, and, poking him, searched for reflexes.

A doctor was sticking him with a sharp thing, asking him if he could "feel this?" Responding affirmatively to every prick, the doctor worked his way up an arm, across a shoulder, and eventually poked his breast. Gigi nodded at the prick but reached up to feel the strange sensation. As he touched his breast, he felt the silicon falsie still clinging there, only, he could feel his fingers touching the falsie as if it was his skin. He rubbed the breast. It wasn't a falsie, it was his skin. There was a real breast on his chest! And one on the other side! He searched for an answer in the doctor's face.

Reading this, the doctor offered some information, "There was some confusion when you first came here. Mistakes were made because of wrong information. Your father is on his way here now. I think it would be best if he explained all that happened." He folded the record chart, "You need to rest right now. You're going to have a great deal of adjusting and decisions to make shortly. You'll have to be strong." He walked toward the door but stopped before leaving, "If things get to be to much for you, I'll give you something to help you relax and not feel so upset. Just ask for Doctor Kildare. And, no jokes about my name." He left.

Gigi watched as his thin arms and hands felt his breasts. He touched down to his tiny waist and to boney hips under taught skin. There was no fat anywhere. Between his legs a plastic tube ran from the pubic hair. Lower, there was no penis, no balls, only a mound of pubic hair with a long slit separating the right half of the hair from the left. Running his finger from the bottom of the slit, he pushed gently and his finger entered. With more pressure it penetrated the slit farther. This was a strange, new sensation. Pushing more, feeling the long nail tickle inside, pushing until his finger could go no deeper, his palm rested against his pubic mound and the plastic tube. "My God! Its a pussy! I'm in a girl's body!"

Gigi started to scream but scenes from the attack ran through his mind, silencing him. He grabbed for the call button. Screaming now, it wasn't in fear or shock but for a nurse. She ran in. Gigi screeched, "Bill! Did Bill Flanders die?"

The nurse pushed him back to the bed, "No. He was here six months and then left under his own power, just like you will. Look, I know that the doctor wants your father to explain all that happened to you, but I've been with you since you first came into the emergency room the night you were attacked. I'm Cathy Mullins." She held out her hand to shake. Gigi did. "I probably know more than your dad and at least as much as anybody else does about you. If you want, I'll tell you the whole story."

"Yes. Please."

Cathy got comfortable on the bed and held Gigi's hand. "You came here in bad shape. Your leg was broken just below your knee, your face was terribly swollen. Both cheek bones were broken. You had been stabbed in the brain from the left side of your head, and your intestines were hanging out of your body where your groin had been cut open. All evidence of your sex had been destroyed. You were white and cold from blood loss. Nobody really thought you would make it. A surgical team began repairs on your groin and a neuro team opened your skull to remove bone fragments. Your brain had a deep cut but there wasn't much that could be done without risking more damage. They sealed some small arteries and closed your head. The other team put everything back where it belonged in your abdomen and then closed the wound. You died on that table twice but we managed to revive you. Your leg was set. After that, it was touch and go for several months. You had massive infections and one time we had little hope for you. You were so sick and weak.

"We worked for weeks trying to uncover who you were. There was no evidence to your identity and your friend Bill was still in a coma from his gunshot wound. The bullet hadn't penetrated his skull, it only took out a slice of it. No missing girls were reported anywhere nearby. Your father, as he told me later, didn't report you missing for over a month because he thought that you left because of something that happened between you and he that night, remember?" Gigi nodded. "When we got the notice of a missing boy, we never thought about you. No one ever questioned that you might be a boy because you were so pretty. Even though you were flat chested, with those mastectomy forms glued to your chest, we just thought you were a young girl trying to appear older than you were to get a date with a college boy. The police found a piece of an ID at the attack scene with 'female' still present in the sex block. There was a tampon in your purse. That added to the confusion.

"Several months went by and the court took responsibility for you as a `Jane Doe.' A young research plastic surgeon named Thomas, petitioned the court to allow him to provide you with a normal appearing and behaving vagina through an experimental procedure he developed. You seemed to regain consciousness from time to time but never quite made it. Doctor Thomas argued that it would be less traumatic for you if you awoke with your female organs at least partially functional, even if you could never give birth. The court gave permission and the surgery was performed.

"They opened your groin and removed a short section of your large intestine. The blood vessels were left intact and the intestine was treated by sanding the inside to remove the cells that make the tissue behave as an intestine. It was relined with grafts of the mucus membrane from your mouth and from laboratory grown tissues cloned from the cells of your mouth. Then it was placed in the position of a vagina and secured. The nerve stumps of your sexual organs were located by using electrodes and these nerves were grafted into the existing nerves on the vaginal portion. The destruction to your groin left just enough urethra to create a normal urinary tract but it was Dr. Thomas' skill that prevented you from having to wear a bag for the rest of your life. Later another surgery gave you a normal appearing vaginal opening. Female hormones were started and you developed a normal appearing female body. Dr. Thomas also rebuilt your cheeks with implants. You are as pretty as any girl could ever hope to be.

"It was five days later when Bill regained conciseness. He was released, but the damage to his brain was extensive and he had memory losses. Susan visited him at his home one day and seeing her reminded him of you. It was then that he put all the pieces together.

"Your dad told us to leave your body as it was since there was no way to create a functioning penis. If you choose to return to being a boy, it would be easier then if we had completed male reconstructive surgery and you weren't happy with it. You can function sexually and tests showed that you may be able to experience female orgasm. But, you must decide who you want to be now. You have to start a big chunk of your life over either way.

Gigi reached to feel the scar on his head. He hadn't seen or felt his hair yet and was surprised at how long it was, spraying out over the pillow, and hanging down behind the bed. Cathy spoke again, "Susan has been coming in every few days and brushing your hair. She gives you a manicure once a week. Susan also refers to you as `she.' I corrected her once. She insisted that `she' was correct."

Dad came into the room and Cathy left as father and son hugged.

 

Over the next few weeks, Gigi was very involved in physical therapy. His body had nearly wasted away from the inactivity those years and his muscles were severely shrunken. As he began to get active and exercise, he began to eat more. He chose to continue female hormones for the time being and with the gaining of strength and weight, his gaunt body took-on more and more feminine curves. By the end of April, Gigi was indistinguishable from any other tall, slender young woman.

Gigi was also reunited with all his friends, except for Bill. He was back in school and couldn't leave until the semester was over. He hadn't contacted Gigi yet, but asked Susan to tell Gigi that he would see him as soon as finals were over.

Gigi spent time with a psychologist, but mostly, Gigi and Susan spent a lot of time together. They talked about femininity and womanhood. They talked about fashion and make-up and boys. They talked about the possibilities of past life and present life. Before leaving the hospital Gigi had made a decision and the courts had agreed. On May 10th, Susan Younger and Susan Gigi O'connor left the hospital together.

Gigi spent the next few weeks milling around town, marveling at the changes, remembering the smells of flowers and trees and hamburgers, and getting used to the many varied and subtle aspects of being a woman. Buying new clothes and learning make-up skills came as naturally as it does to any American girl. She learned to compensate for her lack of strength by using leverage from her lowered balance point rather than muscle power. When that proved inadequate, she found that a 'helpless glance' worked wonders in recruiting brute force from some interested male.

Gigi's relationship with her dad dramatically changed also. When she first arrived home, the house was clean, her room had been painted a rose color (it had been tan), and Dad was in the process of hanging curtains that Mom had been saving for a baby girl. The pastel flowers now suited Gigi just fine.

Dad had stopped drinking over a year ago. He no longer raised his voice in anger, much less a fist. Now Gigi and he spent long hours talking together about how rough it had been after Mom died and about how much they missed her. They cried together on occasion, too.

It was June first. Gigi sat on her mother's bed, milling through the boxes of sweaters and shoes and cellophane-covered hangers of clothes that had belonged to her mother. Gigi was given possession of these, and although very out-of-date, she found that most fit her and by wearing them, she felt a closeness to her mother that only daughters can feel. Looking at the colors and the choices of fit and style, she grew to understand her mother and what she found important. Sorting through the clothes, some would be kept, others would be given to the Salvation Army, a final break from the pain of the past. Growing tired, she laid back on the couch for a short nap.

When the door bell rang, she bolted-up, expecting Susan, who was coming over for lunch. But it wasn't Susan at the door. A handsome young man was there, dressed casually, handsomely, in a white blazer and blue jeans. Sizing him up for a moment and catching sight of a small piece missing from his right ear she recognized Bill. She smiled.

"Gigi?"

"Yes, Bill. It's me."

He let out a small "wow" and then said, "Can I come in?"

"If you like. But, I was just thinking about going out for lunch. I'm kinda in the mood for a big steak," she said through a wide grin.

Bill was stunned for a moment. He remembered the night of their attack. Smiling, he offered his arm but Gigi insisted on getting her purse before leaving. It contained her new license, with her picture, her name, and her "female" designation, and she carried it with pride.

As they walked to Bill's car, Susan was heading across the yard toward Gigi's house. Gigi waved and yelled to her, "Tell Dad I've gone to have a steak. We'll be back...," she looked at Bill momentarily and then turned to Susan, "We'll be back...this time."

Susan smiled and watched as Gigi and Bill walked across the street, climbed into an MG, and drove away.

  

  

  

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