Wild Horses

A novel, based on a true story

by Rebecca A.

 

Chapter Four.

In the package that Blaha had sent me were a few rolls of bandages and some safety pins to secure them. I didn't need instructions to tell me what they were for, and as soon as Gonzales left I began to bind myself up again. The truth is, I felt much more comfortable with my breasts free, but I didn't want anyone else to discover what was happening to me and I thought it was better to be safe than very sorry. Also in the parcel were another vest and a new center uniform. I tried on the pants first, and immediately noticed that they fit me a lot better around the butt. The shirt wasn't much different, I thought.

After dinner Bob came to take me and my meager bundle of belongings back to the main facility. For once he was polite when he spoke to me, and although he didn't use my name he didn't call me 'pussy' like he usually did. Although Bob didn't say anything to confirm it, I figured that Carlos Gonzales had been true to his word, and had talked to Bob about what was happening.

I had mixed feelings as Bob led me up the corridor toward the main wing. Happiness that I would have company again, and fear at what my new physical status would mean if I was found out. The fear was completely overwhelmed, though, when I saw he was leading me right back to my old room with Steve. The guard opened the door and I went in, immediately disappointed because Steve wasn't in. I slowly unpacked and then lay on the lower bunk. Each time I thought about the way I'd looked in that mirror I cried a little, but gradually I think I wore myself out, and eventually I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up a while later when Steve came back from dinner. He saw me and broke into a wide grin. "They finally decided you weren't such a threat to the rest of us, huh?" he teased. I was about to jump up and give him a hug, I was so pleased to see him, but I restrained myself.

Why had I wanted to hug him? That was definitely not the way to approach Steve. Although I always felt better the few times I had been in his presence, I knew that Steve was a tough guy at Brand who wasn't given to expressing emotion. Instead, I stayed on my bunk in the shadow of his bunk above, and he sat on the edge of my mattress and we talked and talked, catching up on what had been happening.

After a few minutes, though, he stopped talking and looked at me carefully, squinting as though he couldn't quite make me out in the shadow. "You look different, kid," he said uncertainly.

"It's the hair," I said immediately, wishing the wall behind me would dissolve so I could flee. "I haven't had it cut since I've been in here."

"Yeah, I guess," Steve said, though he seemed unconvinced. A couple of times through the rest of the evening I caught him scrutinizing me again, but he tried to pretend he wasn't doing it each time I met his gaze.

I mentioned to him that I was going to get my hair cut now that I was out of isolation, but he asked me not to. I thought that was kind of odd, but he said he thought having it longer suited me and I should keep it that way. I wasn't sure I wanted to have it really long, since I'd never liked my hair -- or at least its color -- anyway. But I figured I still had a way to go before it was as long as a couple of other guys' anyway.

We kept on talking and talking. Even though he was a lot older than I was Steve seemed to have no problems relating to the stuff I had to say, which I was glad about. I needed to talk about anything other than my problems with Blaha. Most of our conversation was Steve filling me in on other guys who had arrived or left, and most of the names didn't mean anything to me. After all, I'd only had a short time in the general population at Brand. Steve had even had a new cellmate come and go in the time I'd been in isolation, some jerk he didn't like much named Brian. I had a feeling -- from the way that Steve described him -- that Steve hadn't made Brian's stay very enjoyable.

Even though most of the discussion was about people I didn't know, it was good to have someone to talk to, and I liked listening to Steve. There was something about the tone of his voice, and his ready smile, which cheered me up. We continued talking until well past lights out. I undressed down to my t-shirt, unwilling to take it and the bandage beneath it off even in the dark.

It was only as I was going to sleep that it occurred to me that the one person neither of us had mentioned was Pangianis.

Next morning Blaha was true to his word. At breakfast a guard escorted me to eat, and stood only a few feet from the table where I sat. As I entered the room, the light conversation that had been buzzing around stopped completely, as all eyes turned to take me in. I could see Pangianis and a few of his goons glaring at me, but there wasn't much they could do. Eventually the conversations started up again. The guard escorted me back to my room and Steve joked that I was the most popular person at Brand, just because I had managed to irritate Pangianis so badly. I wasn't sure whether getting a psychopath riled was a good thing or a bad thing.

Everyone else had showered before breakfast, but I got mine afterward when Gonzales arrived to escort me. I stripped off and got under the water quickly, noticing from the corner of my eye that Gonzales was having a hard time trying not to stare at me, though he was trying hard to be discreet. I turned my back to him and finished rinsing myself off, then toweled myself dry and began dressing, carefully re-wrapping my bandage. Then we went back to the room. Neither of us said anything.

The days went on in a similar fashion, one after another. As Dr. Blaha had promised, the pills did seem to make me feel better, or at least less anxious about the threat I faced from Pangianis (or anyone else who found out about my weird new body). Dr. Blaha's other promises held up, too. I was escorted everywhere by a guard, almost always Gonzales if he was on duty, and I never showered with the other guys. Steve started to ask me about this one day, but then seemed to think the better of it and didn't finish the question. Every morning I made a point of getting up earlier than Steve so that I was dressed in more than just my t-shirt and jockey shorts when he saw me. I was very conscious of the lack of hair on my body, and didn't want him to see that, and besides I wasn't sure how well the t-shirt hid the bandage beneath.

Every day that I watched him get up I marveled at the way his body looked in comparison to mine. He wasn't super-hairy, but there was a fair bit on his chest, and he had very broad shoulders. Although he frequently reminded me of Danny in his actions he was taller and possessed the kind of good looks that I knew would have prompted the girls back at the Division Cafe to throw themselves at him. He seemed relaxed with his movements, unhurried, and I had to admit that, coupled with his accent and the slow, gentle way he spoke, there was a lot of appeal to that.

I guess at Brand there was nothing much to hurry to.

Although at first I knew he was watching me like a hawk, each day that went by I noticed Pangianis seemed to pay less attention to me. One of his goons hissed when passing Gonzales and me in the corridor, and another tried to embarrass me by saying "cute" every day when he passed my table at lunchtime, but the one time anyone tried to do anything to me Gonzales was onto them like a flash. Pangianis's offsider Sonny, the one who had helped cut me, came at me from behind with a sharpened bit of steel he'd gotten from somewhere as I was walking out of the library. I think another of the thugs was supposed to distract Gonzales, but something went wrong in the timing, because as soon as Sonny was within about three feet of me Gonzales had snapped out a deft kick to Sonny's wrist and disarmed him before he threw him to the floor and stood on Sonny's back with one foot.

Sonny did about two months in isolation for that. I wondered whether he was going to get one of Dr. Blaha's special programs for aggression too, but unfortunately justice isn't something you often find in juvenile centers.

Months went by. Each night as I went to bed I thought of all that had happened to me, all the strange changes that had taken place. It felt as thought the old me, the one from the old neighborhood, was slipping away. Back then I was teased for being small, but I knew who I was, and I got some respect from my friends because I was tough enough not to take shit from people. Here at Brand I was taking serious shit from the doctor. As I twisted and turned in bed some nights I saw Danny's face in my dreams, and each time he was laughing and jeering at me and calling me a sissy. In the mornings when I woke after these dreams I usually wanted to die.

Steve kept watching me closely when we were together. At first I was very self-conscious about it, afraid that he had noticed the bandage I wore or something else about the changes that had happened to me since Dr. Blaha's bizarre therapy had begun. Once, not long after Sonny's attempt on me, everyone was awoken in the middle of the night for a random search of our rooms. Fortunately it was a while after the lights came on before the guards got to our room, and I was able to secure the bandage fairly quickly before Steve dropped down from his bunk. But I noticed after I rose, in my t-shirt and underwear, that he eyed my legs strangely. During the search we had to stand against the wall in the corridor, and after I walked back into the room ahead of him I realized from the rather startled expression on his face that he had probably been studying my butt and legs from behind. I flushed red, but he didn't say anything, and I tried to pretend it hadn't happened. When in the next few days he still hadn't said anything I thought maybe I was mistaken, or the changes weren't as obvious as I had thought. Gradually I relaxed around him again, and came to accept the way he unconsciously flicked his eyes over me sometimes as just part of his everyday behavior. I even began to like it a little bit, but only when I didn't think too much about what liking it might mean.

My new freedom to mingle with the other inmates at Brand was constrained by the fact that I always had a guard nearby, which meant almost all the other guys avoided me like the plague. The first time I ventured out I was left entirely on my own, and I stood in the corner of the yard feeling like some kind of leper. The second time, this effeminate-looking kid who was maybe seventeen years old approached me. I could see the guard who was escorting me eye the kid warily as he approached, but since I didn't know who this fairy was I didn't get my defenses up too much.

"Hi," the fairy said boldly, in a singsong kind of voice.

"Uh, hi," I said, unsure what to make of this kid.

"I'm Cary," he said, putting an emphasis on the second syllable, stretching it out. Cary. I remembered Steve's comments about Nick Pangianis's 'partner' of choice. "Cary Philips. Some people call me Cee."

I knew who some people might have been.

"Mike," I said in return. I didn't proffer a second name.

"You don't look much like a Mike," Cary said.

"Huh?" I didn't know how to respond to that, or if I even wanted to. There was an awkward silence for a moment.

"Nick just wanted you to know that he didn't know you were with Hammond," Cary said abruptly. "He doesn't want any trouble."

I neither believed this nor felt inclined to comment on it. Nick Pangianis had shown every sign of wishing me all the trouble he could so far. And I was confused. What did "with Hammond" mean? I didn't see what Steve had to do with any of it.

"Why should I believe him?" I asked.

"Ooh, you are a feisty one, aren't you," Cary said archly. "I'm just passing the message on. You are with Hammond, aren't you?"

"We're in the same room," I said. Despite my feelings for Steve as a friend I resented our relationship being portrayed the way Pangianis and Cary's was.

"Really? Heck, honey, you are missing out big time, then. Steve Hammond is the only other guy in this place worth pissing on. And Nick does respect him, you know."

Eventually, after a few half-hearted attempts at conversation, Cary sighed. "What a pity. I thought you and I could get to be real good friends." Then he flounced off, swinging his hips as he walked, conscious of the snickers of some of the kids he passed but seemingly proud of prompting them. A couple of them glanced at me as Cary passed them, and I could see I was tarred with the same brush. That kind of took away any enjoyment I ever had from being outside after that. When exercise time was called I started going to the library instead most days.

I started taking some classes, since Brand required everyone to continue some study until they were 16, but fortunately Pangianis and his goons weren't in any of the same groups as me. I don't even know if Pangianis bothered taking classes since he was older, or if it even occurred to him that he could easily have got at me there. Three of the classes I took were with Mr. Danielson, a sour old bastard who seemed always to be looking at me kind of sleazily. He gave me the creeps, but even though he bugged me a little I was more relaxed around him than around Pangianis.

Because I could relax in class I really started to get into some of my studies. Danny would have laughed at me, called me a brain or something, but really Brand was such a mind-numbingly boring place to be that reading almost anything was preferable to just hanging out in the yard where nobody would talk to me anyway. All the time I spent in isolation meant that I had already read a lot of stuff that was set for classes anyway. When I look back on my time there now, I think my time at Brand had a big impact on the kinds of things I was interested in. Back at school I had always hated study.

Steve used to kid me from time to time about the stuff I read, which meant he reminded me even more of Danny. It was exactly the same kind of thing he would have done. I think Steve was kind of impressed that I could understand some of the books, in a funny kind of way, though he would never have said it. He didn't take classes, since he was old enough to be exempt. Instead he worked out a lot, and hung out with some other guys when we had yard time. He spent most of the rest of his free time playing his guitar.

Steve was a great guitarist, I guess because he put in so much practice. Because of that he didn't get complaints from the other guys, even though the music carried down the corridor and could be heard by all. He could play anything, even jazz. Once another guy tried playing a guitar, too, at the other end of the block, but he wasn't very good and so everyone started yelling at him to stop after a short while. Nobody ever asked Steve to stop, and nobody ever played his radio over the top of his guitar, either. A lot of evenings he would play and I would listen until the guards called for lights out.

I think those evenings are some of my favorite memories of my time at Brand, me laying on my bunk with Steve sitting on the edge of my mattress playing his guitar. He liked to play a lot of different stuff, but sometimes he'd bow to a picture of Keith Richards on the wall and pay mock homage before trying a Stones song. "Greatest songwriter in the world," he'd say. Even though it was hard to make some of that music sound interesting when he only had an acoustic guitar, he was pretty good, especially on some of the slower songs like 'Wild Horses'. I told him I liked that one, and he played it a lot after that.

One night I kind of forgot myself and sang along to 'Wild Horses'. When the song finished he didn't say anything for a few moments, and that made me very self-conscious. I became aware that there wasn't a sound anywhere else in the whole block. I blushed a deep crimson, and then Steve said softly "You sing really beautifully, you know?"

What I was aware of was that my voice hadn't broken -- it had changed in quality since I'd been at Brand, and become just a little bit more throaty, but it had hardly dropped in pitch at all, and I had sung up kind of high in the last chorus. It wasn't really a sound I wanted the other guys to hear. What an idiot I was.

I rolled over on the bed and put my face in the pillow. Then I felt Steve's hand on my shoulder. "It's okay," he said. "Really. That was beautiful. You should sing more."

I turned my head slightly and looked over at him. He had put the guitar down and moved closer up the bunk to be nearer to me. His eyes met mine and he reached out a hand and stroked my hair away from my face. It was a strange and beautiful moment. A tingle went through me when he touched me. I had never felt anything like it before. I dropped my eyes from his gaze, and he brushed my hair a few more times. Then he stood up and walked to the door of our room. I think he was suddenly embarrassed.

At that moment the bell rang that let us know it was five minutes to lights out, and he turned and came back and sat on the edge of my bunk again.

"Mike?" he said. "How old are you now?"

"Fifteen," I said softly. There was something about the way he was looking at me that made me very self-conscious.

"I'm twenty," Steve said. I knew that. I nodded, and he went on, hesitantly. "It's funny, you seem kind of older than that in some ways, but you look younger. Uh, have you... Do you...? Uh..."

I knew what he was searching for. He was trying to find a polite way to ask me how come I wasn't like the other guys at Brand. Maybe he wanted to know how come I didn't have any signs of a masculine puberty yet.

I guess there wasn't a polite way. I reached up to him and put my finger in front of his lips in a gesture of silence. "You don't want to know," I said softly.

"Yeah, I do," he said equally quietly. "Uh... don't take this the wrong way, I like you and all -- you know that, right?" I nodded. "It's just ... well, you're more like... sometimes you kind of make me crazy, and I don't know why," he said.

Just then Gonzales opened the door. "Lights out," he said, smiling. He saw Steve sitting on the edge of my mattress, with me lying down, and his eyes narrowed. "You okay, Mike?"

"Fine thanks," I called, grateful that the spell between Steve and I had been broken. I liked Steve a lot, but this kind of conversation was getting way more intense than we'd ever been before. Steve put his guitar in its case and Gonzales hit the switch.

I could hear Steve starting to get undressed. There was always a dim light in our room from the exterior lighting in the yard outside coming through the small window, so our room was never completely dark, but I could never see by it until a few minutes after lights out when my eyes had time to adjust. I started to take off my own clothes too, confident Steve would be unable to see too much in the time that it took him to get undressed. I stayed on the bunk to get undressed, and had to kind of shake my hips a bit to get my pants down over them while lying down. Then I took off my socks and unbuttoned my shirt. I thought Steve was just about to climb onto the bunk above me, but then he seemed to change his mind and he came and sat on the edge of my bed again. As he was sitting down I quickly got under the blanket so he wouldn't see too much of me when his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Sorry about before," he said. "I'm not, uh... " His voice trailed off as though he was embarrassed and thought better of completing the sentence.

"It's okay," I said, conscious again in a strange way that he was so close to me. I was nervous. I guess I should have just shut up then, but in my zeal to make him feel better I asked, "Why do I make you crazy?" I already half knew the answer to that, and I really didn't want to hear him say it, but my nervousness was tinged with an odd fatalism and I couldn't keep my mouth shut. Embarrassed, I continued getting ready for bed by taking off my shirt. Now I had only the t-shirt, jockey shorts and bandage covering me.

"Uh...," Steve began again. It was tragic how inarticulate he could get when he was nervous, and in my slowly returning awareness of light I could make out the side of his face, and the slight tilt to his head which indicated he was very embarrassed. "Have you... have you ever thought about, you know, with a guy?"

My immediate feeling was revulsion. Ugh! My deepest fear. There was a long, deep stillness between us, and I thought Steve would just get up and walk away, since he probably regretted saying that. But then despite myself I couldn't help smiling. He really was kind of sweet when he was embarrassed like that. It was strange to hear someone normally so strong and self-assured make themselves so vulnerable, and although I wasn't sure how to deal with the question I understood that by even broaching it Steve was trusting me in a very special way.

"No way," I said quietly, but I couldn't look at him when I said it.

"I just wondered," he whispered. There are some things you do..."

"You think I'm queer?"

"Maybe not. Sorry, It's just..."

I felt Steve's hand at my neck, gently brushing my hair back again, and I jumped. Evidently he could see me better than I could see him. And once again, after the initial terror, the feeling of him touching me, even in such a seemingly trivial way, was electrifying, and I was momentarily disoriented by the small buzz that went through me. When I didn't pull away from his touch, or say anything, he continued, his voice even softer. "Sometimes I look at you, and I wonder why I get these feelings. Like, I don't think I'm like that, you know? This place gets to a lot of people that way, but not me. But... I don't want to offend you, but the way you move sometimes, and the way you look when you're sleeping..."

Steve had been watching me sleep? That was news to me. I felt his hand go down the back of my neck and then his other hand touch my shoulder. Despite my nervousness I almost wanted to purr. I could sense him shifting slightly closer to me, and feel his hand moving toward the small of my back.

"Ah, Steve..." I began.

The hand on my shoulder was immediately withdrawn, as though he feared from my voice that he'd crossed a line. But at the same time his other hand had dropped just slightly further down my back, and his hand made contact with my bandage beneath my t-shirt.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Shit," I said, reality suddenly returning to me. What had I been thinking? I had been enjoying the way he had been touching me. I hadn't had another person touch me in such a long time. Maybe I was a fag after all. Did the pills Dr. Blaha was giving me change that about me, too? I didn't want to think so, but...

I liked Steve. I liked him a lot. I liked the way it felt when he touched me. I'd even started to get to like the way he looked at me sometimes. It made me feel... well, just liked, I guess.

No, I told myself, I wasn't a fag. Neither was Steve. He didn't act like a fag or anything. I thought we were probably both going to regret this in the morning. I turned away from him again, and collapsed down into the bed. In a moment I realized I was crying.

"What?" asked Steve. "What's wrong?" He reached over to touch both my shoulders again. Despite my misgivings only a moment earlier, I lay still, wondering how in the world I would explain to him the full weirdness of what I had become at the hands of Dr. Blaha. I sensed that the events of the evening had gone far enough that explaining it to him was somehow inevitable, but I felt a curious sense of powerlessness. It was almost as though from now on whatever happened that night was going to be not quite real, and therefore too hard to deal with consciously. Perhaps it was the sexual charge that still lay in the air.

Whatever.

While I cried, Steve slowly began to massage my shoulders, and then gradually to work further down my back to the bandage again. He felt the bandage once or twice and then reached down the bed to the bottom of my t-shirt and tried to pull it up. I didn't say anything, but I shifted slightly to let him. When he saw the bandage he was briefly solicitous.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

When I didn't say anything again he reached for the safety pin I used to fasten the bandage on my right side and undid it. I felt the pressures in the bandage begin to release, and then Steve tried to unwind it around my side. He couldn't do it while I was laying on my front like that, and I had to stop him.

"Steve. Just wait for a moment, okay?"

I felt him release me and I began to unwind the bandage myself. It was about eight feet long, so it took a few twists and turns to get it off while I was lying in bed. Finally I cast it aside and sat up, facing him. I waited for him to say something, sure that he could see me properly in the dim light. There was no reaction at all from him. He seemed stupefied by what he was seeing.

That was the worst response he could have made. I was suddenly terrified that he hated me because I was a freak. Despite my fears I had to find out what he thought. After he stayed motionless and silent for a few seconds more, I gently guided his hand to my left breast.

"Omigod," Steve said softly. "H-How? I mean, uh..."

"The wonders of medical science, I guess," I whispered. Steve had moved his hand around my breast so that his thumb was at the edge of my nipple, which immediately stiffened at his touch. It felt good. A little pit opened in my stomach, and my insides threatened to tumble into it in a warm, gooey free-fall. I felt his other hand on my right breast, doing the same thing. Mmmm. I knew I shouldn't be doing this, and shouldn't be allowing Steve to do it, but it felt so good. Much better than when I touched myself. There was something about Steve's hands, and the attention he was paying to me, that made this special. Strangely enough, the sensations were nothing like the ones I used to have when I jacked off. They were spread more throughout my body. In fact I didn't think I was even a little bit hard, even though I became aware that I had moaned softly when he traced his fingers around my breasts.

After a few more minutes of this I found myself laying down fully, with Steve beside me, running his tongue around my nipples and down my chest to my belly. He paused, then started flicking his tongue over me again, beginning up behind my ears and around my neck before concentrating on my breasts again. The feeling was kind of calming and exciting at the same time, and I writhed in pleasure. My body had a motion all its own, and my hips began moving, slowly, rhythmically as I grasped Steve's shoulders. I moaned again and he put a hand over my mouth to quiet me. Then, after several more minutes of touching and kissing me until I was almost becoming delirious, he rolled me over onto my front. I didn't know what I needed, I still wasn't hard, but I felt better than I had ever done even when I was jerking off.

"Sweet Jesus, you're a girl," Steve said softly, wonderingly. "What the fuck -- "

"-- No. Maybe. I don't know," I said, confusedly. "No, I'm not. Not a girl."

"Are you? Do you have...?" I still couldn't see him well, since he was between the light and me, but from his voice I knew what he was talking about. I felt his hands running down my back, then removing my underwear. His hand started to go around to my crotch, and it was then that I reached around and stopped him. That was too much. I didn't want that. He stopped trying, and then he kissed me some more. Then I felt him caressing the cheeks of my butt. I heard him make a small "mmm" noise as he did so, then felt him slipping his hand between the crack. It was wet, with what seemed like saliva. I had a momentary flash of panic. This was what fags did, right? The panic passed in the pleasure as Steve bent down to kiss the small of my back and then lay himself down again and kissed behind my ears. I liked the behind the ears thing especially. Then he lay on top of me more directly, and I felt his hardness laying in the crack of my ass. He continued to kiss me, and then I felt him put his hand, coated in saliva again, between my legs. He fingered my hole, gently. I must have gasped, because he kissed me and told me gently to relax. Then I could feel him shift his weight, and he was poking into me.

It hurt, a lot. He felt so big. I felt for sure that he was going to tear me apart. Again I must have made a noise, because he withdrew slightly and waited until I had relaxed. Then, in one quick thrust, Steve was all the way inside me. It hurt in that moment and I squealed in pain. He put his hand over my mouth again. It hurt *so* much! But then in a few moments the hurt was replaced with a different feeling as I felt him moving inside me. He grunted a few times, in a way that didn't sound like him but which I knew meant he was enjoying himself. I tried to relax and go with what was happening, and in a few minutes I felt him spasm inside me, and then relax on top of me.

For the next half-hour or so after he withdrew Steve caressed me, and kissed me, and gently played with my breasts, which seemed to fascinate him like he'd never felt a pair before. We lay together all through the night, his arm around me, while he slept heavily and I wondered what all of this meant for the future.

 

***

 

 

Chapter Five.

It was starting to get light outside. I gingerly untangled myself from Steve and began to wind the bandage around my chest. As I did so I looked over at the bunk. Steve lay stretched out along it, his body clearly visible in the slowly brightening room. He really did have a good physique, I thought. Even though I told myself wasn't attracted to him that way, I could see that girls would go for it. I thought back to the events of the night and began fastening the bandage before I reached for the t-shirt. Then I noticed he had woken, and was watching me.

"Uh uh," he said softly, shaking his head slightly. "Take it off again for a minute, just for me."

My first ridiculous impulse was to turn myself away from him so he couldn't see much of me, but then of course he had a great view of my butt. I held one hand to block the view of my crotch, and held my other hand up to the bandage stretched across my chest.

"You look amazing," he said. "Really. I noticed some things about you, but who'd a guessed?" His smile got broader. He was very persuasive when he smiled like that. He sat up in the bed, and motioned for me to come closer to him. Softly he began to talk to me, to tell me that although he didn't know why these things had happened to me, he loved the way I looked and felt. I blushed, and he reached out for the safety pin and undid it. As he unraveled the bandage again I stood nervously. Finally it was undone and my breasts were free.

"So beautiful," he said. "So perfect."

At about that moment the stress of my conflicting emotions got the better of me, and I began crying.

"Hey," Steve said. "What's the matter? I didn't hurt you or anything, did I?"

I sat back on the bed and told Steve everything, about how the events when I first came to Brand got all screwed up and how they, connected with what had happened to me outside, convinced Grieves and Blaha that I was a violent and aggressive kid with a problem. And how Blaha had kept giving me these shots, and now pills as well.

Steve put his arm around me as I cried. After about twenty minutes I had cried everything out, and I began to dry my eyes.

"So how do you feel about it?" Steve asked. "I mean... don't take this the wrong way, but you... you look great."

"You just haven't seen a girl in ages," I retorted.

"I was just wondering, like, what it feels like," he said.

"At first I hated it. I hated everything that was happening," I said. "Steve, I didn't choose this, you know?"

"I know," he said, caressing my shoulder with his hand. "It's kind of hard to understand, though, you know?"

"Yeah, it's fucking weird," I said bitterly, and then regretted it when he stiffened a little. "I mean..." I tried to correct myself. "I just don't know what to think," I said. "Sometimes I just want to die, sometimes it doesn't seem so bad... I even like some of the feelings when you... you know."

"So you don't mind?"

"Mind?"

"Last night?"

"No." There. I had said it.

"Good. Now you can bandage yourself back up before the goon comes."

I dressed, and we went about the day in our separate ways as we usually did. A different guard accompanied me for the first half of the day, and then I had Gonzales in the afternoon. I kept thinking he'd notice something different about me. I felt different. Apart from feeling sore where Steve had been inside me, I also felt much more conscious of my body than usual. It felt rounder, softer, kind of ... I allowed myself to think about it. Maybe it felt... sexier. Was that it? I found myself thinking of Steve, and the way he had held me and talked to me softly, all through the day. But all Gonzales seemed to notice was that I was more distracted than usual.

In the afternoon I went out to the exercise yard and stood at the side, watching Steve and his friends tossing around a baseball. He grinned at me, and I blushed and turned away. But I stood there a while longer, watching him. I liked that he looked at me, even in front of his friends. After a short while I became aware of the gazes from the other guys, and of the way they looked at Steve as if to gauge where I stood. It got a little uncomfortable, all that attention, but Steve kept smiling at me, and as I was walking back to our room I realized that no matter what I thought, he wasn't ashamed of me.

That night Steve slept with me again. At first I was awkward. He sat at the edge of my bed, stroking my hair. He had been playing guitar again, before lights out. First it was a bitter song I'd never heard before, something about a woman making a man poor, then some bluegrass style stuff which I didn't know and he didn't sing to, and then he played a couple of Stones songs.

He didn't really have a very good voice, but he had a nice expressive way of singing. The last one he played was a slow song he said was about someone's wife, Angie. He sang it deep and gravelly, not at all like Mick Jagger, and I was amazed at how different it could be. In the last verse I started singing along quietly, and he stopped, and then he made me sing it from the start.

I was embarrassed, and sang very softly, but it's not a complicated song to sing and he smiled while I was doing it. I closed my eyes and sang. It was easier than watching him watch me sing.

As he stroked my hair after lights out he kept singing, softly, "Angie, Angie, when will those clouds all disappear." He could tell I was nervous about him touching me again, and he took his time with me, stroking my shoulders gently and then turning me onto my back and lifting my t-shirt over my head. He stroked his thumb around my breasts -- the bit the encyclopedia called the aureolae -- and I felt a little shiver go through me as my nipples hardened and I felt my insides go soft. I loved that feeling. It was so strange, so warm and exciting and yet so soft at the same time, as though my body was full of energy but somehow not able to let it go. He stopped singing and bent to lick my nipples, and then kiss my neck and behind my ears again. I just melted.

This time when he came inside me I was better prepared, and it hurt less. It was still painful but it didn't feel like I was on fire or anything. He came after a few minutes again, this time gasping as he did so and grasping my shoulders so tightly that I noticed the marks the next day. Afterward I cried a little again, but I don't think the tears had much to do with shame. I just felt kind of overwhelmed. Then we lay together for a while again, Steve gently running one hand over my hip and the other over my cheek.

After a few days I stopped asking myself questions about whether what Steve and I were doing was right. I felt less self-conscious about being semi-naked around him. After a couple of weeks maybe I even got a little bit proud of the way I could distract him just by beginning to unbutton the top of my shirt. It was just nice to have his attention, and to feel wanted. I stopped feeling so ashamed of the way I looked. Without making any conscious decision about it, I stopped agonizing over whether Steve and I were gay or not.

Instead I enjoyed the things he showed me about myself, and the pleasure I could give him. I even kind of liked it when he took down some of the posters of girls on the walls -- it was weird, but I liked it that he preferred looking at my chest to theirs.

So far as the rest of the guys at Brand were concerned, nothing had changed, and I still needed protection on a daily basis even though the threat from Pangianis seemed to have passed. But in our room at night Steve and I had quite a different life.

It got harder for me to hide things from Dr. Blaha as he got to know me better. I think he sensed that there was something new happening in my life on the first visit I had with him after Steve and I got together, but he didn't say anything and I didn't volunteer. Then, about five months after that day, I broke down in front of him, and he asked me directly how I was feeling about the changes to my body now.

I started to put on the same face I'd had with him all long -- it was an outrage -- but I think he could see that my heart wasn't as much in it as it had been. Watching me closely, he started to talk about stopping the shots, and perhaps ordering a mastectomy to stop me from worrying about my breasts any further. Something about that gave me a little shiver. I didn't realize it at the time, but much later I understood I actually liked my breasts, especially since Steve liked them so much. Anyway, I complained bitterly to Blaha about what he had done to me, but I think something in my face must have given him doubts about me. Not that it changed anything. He kept giving me the shots anyway.

Gonzales was much more clued-up. Whenever he took me anywhere like the showers or to Blaha's office he would chat to me about his family and stuff, and gradually I noticed that he was acting kind of different, maybe gentler around me than he had been. I guess he had seen me in the showers a few times. He wasn't supposed to look, but he probably rationalized it like it was for my own protection or something. Whatever. One day coming back from the showers he stopped me abruptly in the corridor and said to me "That Hammond. He is good to you?" When I blushed, he smiled, and then I laughed and he laughed softly too.

"Not as good as you, my friend"

"Ah. Mike." He seemed to weigh my name for a moment. "It is none of my business, but... things have changed."

"You could say that, Carlos."

"Can I say, I hope you are happy?"

"You can say that, thank you."

"Because, if it is alright for me to say this, it suits you very well."

"I am still not sure what to think," I said softly.

"You should do whatever feels right for you. For me, I think this is right for you. But I can see it is hard. But I am not, how can I say it, I am not prejudiced about this as some others from my country are. If you were my child, I would say this was okay, because it suits you so well."

"You are a very good man, Carlos," I said, still unsure what I thought of all this. "Thanks." I meant what I said, too. He was a good man. I had nothing to offer him but a friendly ear, but he stood by me when most other people would have turned away. He made me feel good about myself when I needed it, and I appreciated it. If I hadn't thought it would embarrass both of us I would have hugged him.

Gradually I noticed that the other guys at Brand were treating me differently. I don't know, maybe they'd been doing it for a while before I became aware of it. My shower schedule had been shifted back to before breakfast, before everyone else had theirs, so that I could go to classes, and I noticed that while I was walking back from my shower a lot of the guys I passed with Gonzales looked at me very intently. At meals, I noticed a couple of guys watching me as I walked back to my table. In the library, I noticed the kid who was in charge flicking his eyes over me, in the same way I'd noticed Steve doing before we first slept together. My first thought that time was that the bandage must have come loose or something, but that wasn't it. I tried to pretend he wasn't doing it, but it gave me the creeps. Then I figured it was my hair, which was now well and truly down past my shoulders and getting down my back. I had thought of cutting it several times, but Steve said he liked it long, so I hadn't done anything about it. It had kept growing, and now it was longer than anyone else at Brand wore his.

I caught glimpses of myself in the mirror on the back of Dr. Blaha's door when I was leaving after each visit. I was getting more and more used to the way I looked, but after the kid in the library had been staring at me I stopped at the door and did it more carefully. There was no doubt about it. I looked completely like a girl. My breasts were still small, but they were filling out. I even had a bit of cleavage. And my hips had definitely gotten bigger. I was getting quite curvy, really. It was so weird. I suddenly realized that dressing like a guy didn't mean anything at all. No wonder the guys were starting to stare. Most of them hadn't seen a girl in months or even years.

I thought of the song Steve had been playing the night before. The lyrics seemed pretty apt. "Trouble comin' every day."

Dr. Blaha noticed me looking at my reflection. "What are you thinking, Michael?" he asked me as I was studying my face closely.

"I'm wondering how you thought this was ever going to work," I said quietly.

"Michael, it has worked very well, so far. You are less aggressive, and you even seem happier," Dr. Blaha said. "By any objective standard this has been a profound success."

"But people are going to notice eventually," I said. "I mean ... I think they have already. How many people in here do you know look like me?"

"Perhaps they have noticed. What of it?" said Blaha.

I looked at him. Surely this was some kind of bluff on his part? He couldn't really think that having a girl -- a guy who looked like a girl -- around a bunch of adolescent males wasn't going to create trouble. I studied his face carefully. I wondered if I detected a hint of nervousness in the way he was acting towards me after all this time. Did he think he had gone too far with me? Was he worried about what would happen if people found out? I remembered the erection he tried to conceal when he saw me totally naked, and I wondered whether this therapy was really one the State would have approved of. Maybe he was bluffing?

Maybe he was just getting carried away with his own little fetish. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me sometimes -- there was no doubt he was turned on by what had happened to me.

I shrugged off the thoughts -- it didn't matter much. So long as I was at Brand Blaha could do whatever he wanted. It wasn't like there was anyone who knew me in the outside world who would make a fuss about what had happened to me.

"I think you're nuts," I said, and turned to go.

"Michael. You can always go back to isolation, any time you choose."

I pondered what Blaha had said as one of the guards took me back to my room. Was I happier? At first I dismissed the idea out of hand -- how could I be happier when Blaha had turned me into some kind of chick with a dick? But later that night, as I lay in bed with Steve spooning me with his body, his hand on my breast, I realized that I had never, in my whole life, ever felt wanted by anyone the way I felt wanted by Steve.

As I drifted off to sleep I saw Danny, in a fleeting glimpse, but he wasn't laughing at me, he was smiling.

Gradually it became obvious in the Brand community that Steve and I were together, as Cary had said months earlier. I got to start eating with Steve and his friends, and I guess it was just simple body language that tipped everyone off, since we obviously shared each other's space way more than guys at Brand usually did. I was surprised that it didn't seem to change the attitudes of the other guys there to Steve. He was a pretty popular guy, but even so I couldn't help but think that people would give him a hard time about being a fag. After a few weeks of watching other people, I realized that people were a little bit afraid of Steve, so maybe that was it. Anyway, whatever it was, it meant there were now a bunch of other, older guys, who at least spoke to me when we ate together.

I guess most guys who wind up at Brand aren't too bright. They mostly get sent there because they've screwed up pretty bad and been arrested a few too many times. I don't know whether there are very many smart crooks in the world, but there weren't any in evidence at Brand.

Anyway, we didn't have a lot to talk about. Most of them seemed pretty nervous around me, too. I didn't know at the time whether that was because I was "with" Steve and they were worried about his reaction, or whether it was just because they thought I was weird. It didn't worry me. Most of them I didn't like much, anyway. Especially Travis, this big, dark guy who hung around Steve like a bad smell. I hated the way he looked at me, like he was undressing me in his mind. And a few times I heard him talking to some of the other guys when Steve wasn't listening, and he kept using the word "she." It took me a while to catch on that he was talking about me.

Steve's best friend was this enormous guy called Leon. I swear he was maybe three or more times my weight, and most of it looked like muscle. Him I liked. I knew I made him nervous, but it was kind of in a good way, the way I made Steve nervous sometimes, like when I undid the top buttons on my shirt and Steve's train of thought abruptly stopped. Leon was always trying to feed me at lunch. "You eat like a bird," he kept saying. The truth was I had discovered that lately whatever I ate found its way onto my hips. Anyway, Leon was kind of sweet, even if he wasn't very bright, and I always enjoyed meals more when he was around. I guess the fact that he wouldn't hurt a fly meant his sheer size made me feel kind of safe.

Most of the time the guys didn't talk to me that much anyway because I was still accompanied everywhere by a guard. The surveillance was beginning to get a bit more relaxed, but they was still always a guard within twenty or so feet of me most of the time. I got the impression that there was some stuff being discussed by the guys that wasn't for my ears, since whenever I approached there was always an awkward silence followed by some lame attempt at conversation. So mostly I only spoke to them at meals, when the guards stood further away.

When Spring approached I started going out into the yard a bit more, just to feel the sun on my arms and face. I kept the rest of my body well covered, since I didn't want to start a riot, and I didn't walk around too much since I knew I attracted attention whenever I did that. So mostly I just hung around the sunny corner of the yard. From the other side of the yard Pangianis kept a close eye on me each day, but then so did Steve and Leon. Each day, independently of Pangianis, Cary would stand along the fence, watching me, inching closer and closer as the days went on until he was maybe only 10 feet from me. One day I just turned to him and said "What?"

"What?" He looked puzzled.

"Yeah. What?"

"I don't know what you mean." He had such a prissy way of speaking. Even though he had a southern kind of accent, like Steve, he managed to use it in way that just screamed 'fag'.

"Well, you've been hanging around for weeks now, I was just wondering what you wanted? Got another message from your boyfriend?"

Cary looked hurt, and for some reason that made me feel guilty, even though I hated him just for knowing Pangianis. "No," he sulked.

"Sorry," I said, and I sat down on a bench and began to draw on the ground with a stick I'd found. Cary moved closer. From the corner of my eye I could see Steve, Leon and a Guard stiffen slightly as though they expected something bad, but I pretended not to notice Cary standing next to me until he spoke again.

"I thought maybe you and I..." he began.

I looked up questioningly, and this seemed to motivate Cary to sit down beside me. Then suddenly he was in flood of tears.

I looked away. Jesus. Where had this come from?

On the other side of the yard Pangianis had been watching us, but when Cary began to cry I saw him turn his back on everyone else in the yard and begin to walk inside. I looked around helplessly. Everyone else seemed to be studiously ignoring Cary, who was sobbing wretchedly beside me. I didn't know what to do. Eventually I reached over and put my arm around his shoulder. In turn he launched himself toward my shoulder, still sobbing. "It's okay," I found myself saying again and again, even though I had no idea what had prompted all of this. Pangianis, I guessed.

"It's not like I don't try," Cary said, sniffling.

"Yeah, I know," I said soothingly, still wondering what in hell was going on.

"He just... just... I don't know anymore," and the sobbing started again.

He. Well, that narrowed it down. Pangianis, clearly. "You shouldn't let him eat at you like this," I said, still wanting to make a break and leave Cary to cry hear alone. But, you know, when someone is really distressed it's hard to treat them badly.

"I know." Sob. More sobbing.

"It's just not worth it, you know?"

"What would you do?" Cary asked, and I realized I was in over my head.

"Maybe you should tell me what happened," I said, and slowly he dried his tears and commenced telling me.

A new boy had come in three weeks ago, and he was, well, like Cary, and he was dark and pretty, and Nick had been paying him a *lot* of attention. The same old stuff. Except it was pretty new to me. I didn't ever think about gay guys like that much. Anyway, now Cary was feeling like the jilted wife, and even though I had been rude to him ever since I'd been at Brand he felt that maybe I would understand. "Since you and Steve Hammond..." he trailed off.

"Yeah, I guess I know," I said, surprised to hear myself admitting my relationship with Steve. What the hell, I thought. Everybody knows anyway.

Nick had organized to have Cary moved out of his room and the new kid moved in. I didn't know how he could arrange that, but apparently he had something over one of the administrative staff or something. So now Cary was almost "out in the street" as it were, in a cell with some fat kid who wouldn't talk to him. Hardly anybody at Brand would talk to him, because people still weren't sure if he 'belonged' to Pangianis.

I made lots of sympathetic noises, and we talked a while until it was time to go inside again. He was really cut up, but he wasn't self-pitying or anything. Cary wasn't too bad, I decided, once you got around all the mincing and flouncing and prissiness.

"Thank you," he said as we walked down the corridor flanked by my ubiquitous guard.

"It's nothing," I said.

"Yes, it is," he said. "You know, most guys, you come to them with a problem, they want to solve it for you. I knew I could just come talk to you and we could just, you know, talk, without having to solve it."

I nodded. "I guess. Some things just can't be solved, you know?"

"Exactly," Cary said. "But it helps to talk about them."

"You take care, Cary," I said when we got to the door of my room.

"I will, honey. You know, call me Cee, okay?"

I nodded uncertainly, and then went inside.

"What was that all about?" Steve said to me as I entered.

"The heartache of love," I said, easing myself onto my bunk.

Steve looked over at me and grinned. "Sheesh! Queens! She's always been into drama."

I flinched when I heard him say "she," and he noticed.

"You're different," Steve said, his grin gone.

"Uh huh. You got that right," I said coldly.

"No, I meant..." he paused, as though to consider what he did mean, and then he shrugged. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Is that how you think of me, Steve? Like Cary?" I asked softly, half-afraid of the answer.

I guess Steve could see he was in dangerous territory, but there was no going back now. "No," he ventured tentatively. He came and sat down next to me, and took my chin in his hand. "You're smarter, and prettier, and... Well, I could never be interested in Cary, but you..."

Later that night, as we were laying together after making love, I had to continue with my questions. There was some mad whirlpool pulling me into it, demanding answers to questions that were better left unanswered.

"Steve?"

"Uh huh."

"Do you think of me as..."

There was a long silence. We both knew the words I hadn't said.

Finally he leant across and kissed me. "I love you for what you are, you know that."

I couldn't let it alone. "And what is that?" I asked, too afraid to look at him.

"A beautiful girl. You are, you know." He stroked my breast, and kissed me again.

I let that remark echo around in my head for a month or so afterward. Mostly I tried not to think about it too much. I mean, it was probably easier for Steve to do this stuff with me if he thought of me as a girl, and I guess the things he most liked about me were the things like, well, my tits and ass, I guess. Not for nothing had those posters been on the wall of the room.

Steve had taken to calling me 'Em' instead of 'Mike', which I guess helped him to forget the inconvenient pieces of my life when he needed to. Gradually his friends were doing likewise. Something else Cee and I had in common.

Life went on. The guys talked about whatever it was that they talked about, and I hung out at the corner of the yard and got some sun. I started getting kind of bold and rolling up my pants to get some sun on my legs, even though, being a redhead, I didn't tan much. I only got an hour or so of sun each day anyway. Cee and I pretty much staked out that bench as our own, and talked about everything and nothing. I discovered I really did like him. He was a good judge of character. He *was* a drama queen, but he didn't have any self-pity in him, and I admired that since he'd had a pretty shitty life even before he came to Brand.

Although some Italian guy had been kind of sniffing around, making it known he was interested, Cee was treating him with contempt, stringing him along. "Neanderthal," he said to me, "That's his only defect. No class. A great body, but no class. Me, I like them to have something between their ears as well as their legs." For some reason that sent me into a fit of giggling. I tried to suppress giggling around other people, but I was getting pretty relaxed around Cee.

Steve and I got closer and closer. I loved the time we spent together in our room, where -- depending on which guard was on duty -- I could unbind my chest and let my hair out and just relax. I loved the way Steve acted towards me, with kindness and attentiveness and gentleness. A lot of evenings we spent with music. Steve was *so* into music. He said once to me that even at those times he never had anything around to play, he would just play in his head, which was almost as good. He was gradually making me less self-conscious about my singing, so most nights he would play stuff and I would sing along, or he would sing and I would do harmonies. "Honey, you turn me on, I'm a radio," one of the songs went. Steve wasn't much of a singer himself, but he knew a little bit about it, and he was a good teacher.

I always wondered what I really sounded like, and one night Steve recorded me on his cassette player and played it back to me. Wow. I think it's always weird when you hear the sound of your own voice from outside your head, but it was even weirder for me, to hear that singing and then have to wonder about what the other guys in the place thought of me. I tried to shrug it off, but it was another thing that reinforced my difference.

I *loved* singing, though, and I was so grateful to Steve for the musical education. Occasionally I would sing unaccompanied when Steve was out of our room at workshop or in the shower. Usually I chose old pop songs with good melodies, the kind of stuff that my Mom used to sing along to when I was young. "The only boy who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man." I thought of Mom often, and sometimes when I sang those songs it made me feel a little bit like she was still with me.

The more time I spent with Steve the more enraptured I got. He could make me tingle to my feet just by touching me on my neck. We slept together every night, and made love almost every night, too, except for a week when I had some kind of flu and then the following week when Steve caught it, too. If anything the sex after we were both sick was even better, since Steve was gentler. As we both got to know each other's bodies better we learned what pleased each of us most, although I still had some kind of block about Steve touching my penis or my balls. I think, in retrospect, that my reticence about that was probably a good thing. Steve wanted to please me, but I think he mostly liked to think of me as a girl.

My body just continued to do its thing. My tits weren't exactly in Dolly Parton territory, but they were pretty prominent on my chest when they weren't taped up, which was the whole time Steve and I were alone. He just couldn't get enough of them. Even Dr. Blaha expressed surprise at their continued growth. And when he measured me on my sixteenth birthday we discovered my hips were bigger than my bustline. 32 bust, 20 waist, 34 hips, 5'4" tall, 105lbs. He said he was lowering the dose, but neither of us mentioned anything about stopping it. By this stage I wasn't sure *what* I wanted. Part of me still knew it was all just too weird and guys just didn't *do* this sort of thing. But the other part of me thought of the way Steve made me feel when he ran his hands over my ass, or my breasts, or when he kissed me behind the ear.

Dr. Blaha did drop me off the other tablets I was taking, which I had discovered a few months earlier were Valium. Actually I had been making some income on the side with those, palming them each morning and afternoon and selling them to Warren, this weedy looking kid further down the hall, in return for books he got his mother to send me. So I was kind of disappointed about that. Still, at least Dr. Blaha remembered my birthday, and gave me a small volume of poetry.

The real surprises on my sixteenth birthday were some other presents. Leon gave me a diary, which was sweet. I had no idea how he got it, but I was very appreciative. I almost kissed him to say thank you, and I think he knew it, because both of us blushed right down to our toes and tried to find something else to talk about. Cee gave me a tortoiseshell clasp and some barrettes for my hair, which was now about halfway down my back since Steve insisted I shouldn't cut it. "Your hair is *so* beautiful," Cee said when he gave me the present. "You should do more with it. Your friend Gonzales helped me get these," he said, "so I guess it's sort of from him, too."

I wasn't going to wear the clasp around the rest of the guys, since it was way too girlish no matter *what* they thought of me already. But apart from my hair being long it was very thick, and I was grateful to have something to keep it off my face when I was writing in my room, or when I was trying to play guitar. (Steve had been teaching me that, too, and surprisingly none of the guys complained when I practiced).

But nothing really prepared me for the present Steve gave me. Even he must have had second thoughts about how far he was pushing me, because he wound up giving me two presents.

The first was pretty tame, and obviously something he organized as an afterthought. It was the sheet music to an old Gram Parsons album. "You can sing this stuff now," he said, "and I know you'll be able to play it soon enough."

Then he produced the real present, and held it out to me tentatively. I unwrapped the small parcel, and pulled out the contents.

I looked at him, unsure of what to say.

He looked back at me uncertainly, I guess fearing that maybe he'd made a mistake.

"Steve," I said softly. I didn't know what to think.

"Well, I want to know if they at least fit," he said.

"Turn around" I said. I was till shy about letting him see the front of me when I undressed -- well, my lower half, anyway. He turned around, and I undressed. Then I held up the small black items from the package, and tried to figure out how they worked. The panties were easy enough, and I pulled them on quickly. Then I had to readjust myself in them and tuck my penis underneath, since they didn't quite fit right otherwise. Once I had done that, though, they fit great. They were much better around my butt than the shorts I had been wearing.

Then I took a look at the bra. I tried to struggle into it, but the straps were set too short, and I had to take it off again and adjust them before trying again. It took a bit of contortion to get it done up at the back, but it wasn't too hard.

Wow. That felt... weird. Weird but good. Suddenly I understood why women wore these things. Not that my breasts were sagging. They weren't big enough for that. It just felt nice to have them supported a little bit. The bra was a pretty good fit, and I briefly wondered how Steve had known what sizes to get.

Steve seemed kind of impatient, but I gave him a warning against turning around too soon. The next item I tried on was the garter belt. I only knew what it was from seeing all those old Playboy magazines; otherwise I would never have figured it out. Lastly I unwrapped the stockings. There was a little diagram on the back of the pack that explained you had to sit down and adjust them bit by bit instead of pulling them on, so I did this, all the while telling Steve to be patient.

Finally I told him softly that I was ready. I threw my hair back over my shoulders and stood there, very self-consciously, while he turned around. It was pretty much worth it. He didn't just gawk, he got positively incoherent. I guess I blushed in response.

"Em." He said, like he was in awe or something. That only made me more embarrassed. I learned that day that sometimes there are things more sexy than nakedness (though there's nothing wrong with *that*).

"I guess they fit pretty good," I giggled.

"Em, you're beautiful."

Pretty soon, of course, he had most of the stuff off me again, and we made love slowly and tenderly until near the end when Steve seemed to be in some kind of frenzy and was more aggressive and forceful than usual. I didn't mind. I liked to feel him get kind of desperate and out of control when he got close to orgasm, and then to lie next to him while he went through 'le mort petit', as I'd heard it described in some novel. He had all that strength, and then so little energy.

That night, as we were mumbling things to one another before sleep, Steve said something about "When we get to Mississippi," but I thought he was rambling and I just let it go so we could both sleep.

 

***

 

 

Chapter Six.

The plan would probably have gone better if it hadn't been for me. I know I screwed with their concentration just by being around. Then again their plan would never have even existed if it hadn't been for Pangianis's continued obsession with me, or they would have had to find some other plan, or something.

I don't know. I guess that even after all these years I still try to rationalize all that stuff. Personally, I blame Travis, whose dick was always about forty times the size of his brain.

Whatever. I didn't find out about the whole plan until the night before, when Steve and I were laying together and he said softly to me "Em, if you had to take anything from here, what would it be?"

"You" I said immediately.

"No, I meant any *thing*. I hope I'm more than a thing to you."

"Well, it's a nice thing," I said teasingly as I reached down and tugged at his cock briefly. "But if you mean what would I take for me? I haven't ever thought about it. I guess the only things I really want to take out of here when I leave are the birthday presents I just got. But they'll all be pretty old by the time I'm out of here. And I don't have anything else"

"Not really," said Steve. "We're out of here tomorrow."

"What?! And who's we?"

"You, me, Travis, Leon, anyone else who can take advantage of the situation."

"What situation?"

"At breakfast tomorrow morning, I want you to go down to eat as usual."

"Uh huh. So?"

"I want you to act... sort of sexy during breakfast. Get Pangianis steamed up. At the end of breakfast I want you to take off your bandage in front of him."

"What?! Are you outta your mind!"

"Not at all. Oh, come on, Em, everyone knows you're different. They just haven't seen how different."

"You want me to go naked?"

"No, my love, I would never ask you to do that, you know that." He grasped my nipple in his hand. "But you know, you are very perky these days, and if you just wore a t-shirt..."

"I'm going to get killed." My mind was flip-flopping between this preposterous notion and the fact that he had just said the L-word. My Love. He'd never said that before.

"No you won't. Leon and I will see to that, I promise. On my own life, I swear we will not let anything happen to you."

"What's going to happen?"

"It's best if you just stay alert and follow my lead. Wear whatever presents you want. They're all wearable things, aren't they?"

I nodded. "Except the diary Leon gave me, and the book Blaha gave me. But I can live without books."

"I'll make sure your diary comes with us."

"Steve?"

"Yes, Em?"

"Why? Why are you doing this now? Won't you get out next year? I mean, you were convicted as a juvenile, like me, right? That means they can only hold you for another few months, until you turn twenty-one, right?"

"Yes, my love, that's right."

"So why now. Why not just wait? Isn't this going to make it much worse?"

"Because you, my love, are going to be here for a lot longer than that. Five more years. You're not going to get any time off for good behavior or any of that stuff, not after spending so long in isolation already. After I'm gone, who's going to take care of you?" He kissed me gently and I snuggled into his shoulder and began to cry.

In the morning my first thought was that it had all been a weird dream the night before, but Steve was up and organizing things in the room before I woke. Gonzales came to get me before breakfast, and I went to the showers with him, worried that Steve's plan was too adventurous and something would go wrong. I washed my hair, and pulled it back after I'd towel-dried it. Gonzales commented on it as we walked back to the room. "Miz Em," he said, and I was surprised to hear him call me that, too. "Your hair is even longer than my daughter's. Very nice."

As we were approaching my room I was suddenly torn. I didn't want anything bad to happen to Gonzales. I didn't want to upset Steve's plans, but Gonzales had saved my life, and been a good friend, even if he was a guard. I was going to say something to him, about being careful, but I realized there was no way to do that. Instead I stopped and quickly hugged him. He was surprised, but as I turned to enter our room I could see him smile. "Shower time, Hammond," he said to Steve before turning back to me. "I'll be back to take you to breakfast in thirty minutes, Miz Em."

Inside our room after his shower Steve took a long time to get dressed. As he pulled on his pants I noticed with some unease that he had found some duct tape and taped a knife to his calf. I never even knew he had it. It looked like a knife from the mess that had been sharpened up, and I was reminded of the time Pangianis and Sonny had cut me with a similar blade. Steve saw me looking, and smiled that winning smile of his to reassure me. "No, I'm not planning on using it, Em. It's just for protection, for later."

I didn't want to ask what later was.

I noticed Steve looking pensively at his guitar. Even though it was just a cheap one, we'd had a lot of good times with it, and I could tell he was having difficulty leaving it behind. Finally he shrugged, and left the room.

I dressed, putting on the panties and the garter belt and stockings under my pants, and stuffing the bra into one pocket. The other pocket I filled with the clasp and barrettes.

As we walked down to the mess hall I noticed Steve standing near the door. He pulled Gonzales to the side as we went in and murmured something, and I saw him slip something into Gonzales's hand at the same time as the guard's face drained of color. Inside the mess hall everything was pretty much as normal, except Leon and Travis had staked out some seats adjacent to Pangianis's table, which was unusual. We walked over to the seats they had saved, and I saw Pangianis eyeing me closely as I walked. I deliberately gave my hair a flick as I sat down, which I knew was a gesture that a lot of guys found hard to take, and then I looked him in the eyes across the two tables and smiled at him. He was no pushover and it didn't faze him in the least. His eyes flicked to Steve and Leon and Travis for a moment, then he just kept right on looking at me.

As I went to get breakfast I put a little more swing into my hips than usual. There was something about having that sexy lingerie on under my clothing that made me feel more provocative. So help me, I got a little buzz out of acting, well, sexy. There were a few whistles, and Gonzales and the other guard on duty looked nervous. As I walked back I could feel Pangianis's eyes -- and the eyes of every man in the place -- firmly locked on to me, and I played up to it. I was nervous as hell, if you want to know the truth of it, but Steve had gone over the instructions again that morning and I knew what he was aiming for.

I was too nervous to eat, so I played with my hair and waited for the signal from Steve. Pangianis never took his eyes off me, and I licked my lips a few times for good measure while looking directly at him. Then I noticed Gonzales step outside the room briefly, and a friend of Travis's get the attention of the other guard over at the serving counter.

There was Steve's signal. I reached under my arm and undid the safety pin that held my bandage in place. Then I undid one my shirt buttons, slowly. Pangianis was watching every move, and I could see there was something about all this that was getting him nervous, or at least distracted. I took off my shirt, leaving the t-shirt on underneath. Then I reached up under that and in one smooth motion removed the bandage, which sprang off now that there was no safety pin to hold it. My breasts swung free.

I thought Pangianis and Sonny were going to cum there and then. No-one behind me could tell what I had just done, but the eyes of the guys in front of me were totally locked on my chest. You'd think they hadn't seen a woman in years. Well, I guess they hadn't, and for all that Pangianis seemed to go for boys when there was nothing else available it was clear he hadn't lost his taste for women. But he wasn't moving. He was too stunned. Rats. This wasn't part of the plan.

I reached up and tweaked my nipples, and they got hard right away. I thought Sonny was going to burst a blood vessel.

It was then that Travis had the inspired idea. At least I thought at the time it was inspired. He picked up the plastic jug of water on the table and abruptly threw it all over me, drenching my t-shirt. It clung to my breasts, and was semi-transparent. My nipples became even harder with the shock of the cold water, and stuck provocatively out, clearly visible.

That did it. Nick and Sonny erupted from the table.

"You fucking tease cunt," Pangianis yelled. The guard turned around to see the two of them flying across the space between the tables, and ran to try to intercept them. Gonzales was still outside. Leon and Travis intercepted Pangianis and Sonny and tripped them, and the guard arrived to hold them down, a foot on Nick's back and a baton on Sonny's neck. That was when I went into my real act. I stood up on the table, and turned around.

The room dissolved in total uproar. None of these guys had seen a woman in years, let alone what seemed to be a young woman in a wet t-shirt. They started whooping and hollering and stamping on the floor, and then it was only a matter of time before a few morons at the side of the room started tearing up the furniture and throwing it through the window. "Oh, baby!" "Come and get it honey!" "You're hot!" They were screaming. "She's a he!" one cried, but that seemed to get lost in everything else and anyway I don't think anyone would have cared even if they'd thought about it.

The guard holding Pangianis and Sonny looked panicked. He knew he couldn't let them go, because they'd probably kill him, but he didn't know how to stop me without doing that. I winked at him as Steve gave me his hand and I jumped down from the table. The poor guy looked completely stunned. He hesitated, and Pangianis seized the moment to twist him down and roll away. The guard reacted quickly, bringing up his stick as he was going down and striking Pangianis across the back of the neck. Even in the confusion I could hear the sound of the stick hitting his neck, and I could see his head jerk in reflex. He fell to the floor and the guard kneeled over him, stunned, then seized the moment to grab Sonny, who seemed to be moving in slow motion. Once he had him, he wasn't letting go of him.

Everyone seemed briefly distracted, and then Leon and Steve helped me through the broken window and the four of us were out, streaming across the lawn to a truck at the rear of the building. The guard looked at us helplessly as we were standing in the window, then at Sonny, and then we were running. I heard the footsteps of some others, but I didn't look back.

For all its pretensions, Brand was not like an adult jail in terms of security. We didn't have any towers or anything like that, just a double security fence with razor wire around the perimeter, and an armed guard on the front gate. Coupled with all the security on the building. I guess they just weren't used to juveniles being so determined. I followed Leon as he scrambled into the back of the truck. Steve and Travis took the front while a few other people tried to scramble over the lift on the back. One of them was Cee, and I helped him up. Another was Warren, the weedy guy I had sold my Valiums to. There were a couple of others I didn't know well.

I don't know how Steve planned it, but the truck must have had the keys left in it, because the engine fired up straight away and we made for the side perimeter fences. There was a lot of scraping and noise as a fence post was flattened under the truck and the wire strained and broke, but we just drove straight through them.

The ground was pretty rough outside the fences, because it was all undeveloped land. I got thrown around the back a lot while we crossed over it, and Leon reached out to steady me. I grinned at him as we were flung together by a huge bump, and his arms encircled me. Then we hit some paved road, and he abruptly released me, turning bright red as he realized what had happened and a brighter red when I moved to the other side of the van and he could see my tits through the still-damp t-shirt. "Ooh!" Cee squealed. "Girl, you sure have grown up!"

I blushed. I don't know why, after the exhibition I had just put on, but I was all of a sudden self-conscious. Leon, bless him, seemed to understand, and he took off his shirt (he had a t-shirt on underneath) and handed it to me. It smelled a lot of Leon, and I could have worn it as a dress it was so huge, but I was grateful to be able to cover myself up while I was stuck in the back of the truck with all these guys. Especially after what had just happened.

About fifteen minutes down the road the truck slowed and turned and then stopped, and a few moments later Steve and Travis appeared at the tailgate. "Okay," Steve said. The rest of you can take the truck. Anyone know how to drive it?"

One of the guys I didn't know grunted.

"Okay, it's all yours, do whatever you want with it." Steve continued. "Em, Leon, we're outta here." He helped me down from the truck and began to walk over to a Malibu parked behind a few trees. I looked back at the truck. Cee was standing at the top of the tailgate, looking nervously at the other guys, obviously wondering what to do next.

I turned to Steve. "Steve."

"Hurry up." he said, as Travis got into the driver's seat of the car.

"Uh, what about Cee?"

"Huh? Oh, shit. Look, the deal is just us four, okay? I said whoever got out was welcome to seize opportunities, but this isn't one of them." He kept walking to the car, but I stopped. Eventually he turned around. "Shit, Em, don't do this to me."

I just stood there. Behind me I heard the truck start up again. Steve looked angry, then frustrated, and then finally he said "Okay. Just to the border. That's it."

I turned back to Cee and motioned for him to jump and come with us, then ran to the car myself. Travis had started the car, but got out of the driver's seat and stood by the door. "No fuckin' way, man," he said to Steve as the truck began to move off.

"Way. Just to the border, that's all."

"I ain't driving *that*."

"You just did. So shut the fuck up and drive some more, Travis," Steve said, holding open the door so Cee and I could scramble into the back seat next to Leon.

It was one tight fit. Leon wasn't built for the back seat, and my hips seemed to take up more room than they used to. Cee squeezed up between the window and me and giggled, which made Travis angry. He shoved the car into gear and we roared off in a shower of stones. "Fuckin' faggot patrol," he said.

"Shut the fuck up, Travis," said Steve.

"You heard the man," said Cee, I thought a tad unwisely. I looked at Leon, who shrugged.

We drove for a while in silence. Travis took out his aggression on the car. I don't know whether it was that, or that he hadn't driven in a few years, but we took some of the corners pretty wildly and Steve told him to slow down and stop attracting attention. Then we were on the interstate and he settled down anyway.

Things got a bit tense for a while when a cop got into the stream of traffic behind us, but he pulled off a few ramps further along and everyone sighed audibly. We stayed on the road about three hours, and then pulled off just over the state line and drove up into the hills. I didn't know how Travis knew how to get wherever it was we were headed, but he seemed confident. Around noon we turned off the narrow blacktop and up a small track to a cabin. Travis turned the engine off and we all got out of the car and stretched.

It was pretty. The cabin didn't look like much, but it overlooked a broad, open valley of patchwork fields. There was a shed behind the cabin, and a water tank, but no sign of electricity or phone or any other connections. "Whose place is this?" Cee asked.

Travis scowled. He just hated the sound of Cee's voice. He walked up the steps to the cabin and took a key from above the door, then let himself in.

"Travis's cousins," Steve said after a few moments. He stretched some more, then put his arm around me. "Hey, bet you didn't think we'd make it."

"Yeah, I did," I said, and it was true. I had a lot of faith in Steve.

Leon went for a walk around the back of the cabin, and Cee, Steve and I walked up the steps and went in. It was dark and musty inside, and Steve opened a blind and then a window.

Travis was obviously in the only other room, because we could hear him moving around. In a moment he reappeared, dressed in a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt. It was kind of startling, since I'd only ever seen him in Brand issue until now. He look almost friendly, until I noticed he had was carrying a mean looking gun, some kind of assault rifle or something, by the stock. He walked across to Steve and handed him a large envelope, which Steve opened. It was full of money. It looked like a lot of money, even though it was all twenties. A twenty bought a lot more back then. Travis played with the gun for a moment, weighing it in his hands, and then lay it on the small table near the door.

"Won't be needing that." Steve indicated the gun, as he stashed most of the money in his wallet and handed what looked like a few hundred to Leon and Travis.

"I hope not, Steve," Travis said. "But my cousin thought it was a good idea, and who am I to argue with that kind of generosity?"

Cee and I went to see what was in the other room. There were two suitcases on top of the only bed, one of them open and filled with men's clothing. Steve joined us. "I'm afraid we didn't get a chance to be choosy," he said to me. "So see if any of this fits you. Travis's cousin didn't want to go shopping for women's clothes."

Cee went out to the porch and I started to strip off. I still had the panties, garter and stockings on under my pants, and I left them on. As I straightened up from taking off the pants I felt Steve's arms go around me. "Mmmm," he said. "Pity we can't stay. That bed looks pretty good, whaddaya say?" He snuggled his nose in behind my ear and kissed the back of my neck. I wanted to melt. He cupped my breasts. "Say, did you remember the bra I bought you?"

"Of course I did," I said, and bent down again to retrieve it from the pocket of my pants. I straightened up and Steve helped clasp it behind my back.

"Em, you look so hot," he said. He kissed me some more. "But we gotta keep moving. Try to find something to wear. We'll buy something more appropriate later."

I settled on a large man's white shirt. All of the pants were way too long for me, or too big in the waist, so I settled for the dark blue pants I'd worn at Brand. I'd long ago figured they were in a woman's cut anyway, so I figured they looked better. Then I brushed my hair out and pinned it back with the barrettes. Looking in the mirror I figured I was pretty safe -- there was no way I looked like an escapee from a *male* juvenile correctional facility.

The thought suddenly struck me -- I didn't have to do this any more. I was away from Brand, away from Grieves and Blaha, and I didn't have to look like a girl if I didn't want to. I clasped my hair behind me and pulled it back. No joy. Even if I hadn't had the barrettes in my hair, I still looked like a girl from all the shots Blaha had been giving me. Then I looked across at Steve and noticed him watching me. He smiled, and I blushed.

If I didn't look like a girl anymore, would Steve still like me? I mean, would he still *love* me?

I let go of my hair and walked over to kiss him again. After we'd snuggled for a minute or two I remembered something that had been bugging me in the car. "Steve, about Gonzales..."

"Yes."

"Is he going to be in trouble for this morning?"

"Huh?"

"Did you pay him off or something?" I was worried. Carlos was one of the goons, but he was a nice guy, and I had actually grown fond of him.

"I slipped him some money, yeah. But that was just a parting gift. I wanted to warn him to be at the back of the room when the shit went down."

"Do you think they'll suspect him?"

"Doubt it. He was there, and he tried to settle things down, he just couldn't get through the crowd to where the action was happening, y'know?"

"Good," I said. "I'm actually going to miss him, Steve."

"Don't go getting all mushy on me about Brand," Steve smiled. He kissed me again. "We don't have to think about that place any more."

Steve gave me some money "just in case", and I checked my hair again before we went out onto the porch together. Cee was sitting on the front steps. "What now?" he said.

"Now we head into town for some supplies, and then we drop you off at the place of your choice," Steve said.

"I don't really have a place to go," Cee said.

"You should have thought of that before you climbed onto the truck," Travis said from the end of the porch.

Steve ignored Travis, and continued. "You should probably try to put some more distance between yourself and Brand if you can," he said. "Maybe we can drop you at a bus station or something." He paused. "In the meantime, there are some clothes inside. See if you can find something that will fit you. You're gonna stand out like a sore thumb in those issue clothes."

Cee went inside to change, and Travis moved closer to Steve. "You know it was a mistake to bring *it* along." he said.

"Well, we did," said Steve evenly. "No point worrying about it now."

"What if it gets caught and gives us away?" Travis said quietly.

"How? I ain't planning on staying here long, you know that" said Steve.

"It ain't *your* cousin's place," said Travis.

"Fair point," Steve said. "But who's to say he'll get caught anyway? And if he does, what makes you think he'll talk?"

"He's a fag, man. He'll 'fess everything in a minute."

"Knock off the fag shit, okay," Steve said tersely, and Travis looked guilty for a moment before turning and heading off to find Leon.

That exchange set the tone for our trip into town. We all climbed back into the Malibu, Travis driving again, and bumped down the road without saying a word to one another.

Davenport is not a big town, at least not by the standards of where I grew up. Back then there were maybe 10,000 people, a couple of cafes, the courthouse and a small library, a few blocks of stores, but nothing to get excited about. That worried me, because it seemed to me that any strangers were going to stick out, and five teenagers in a Malibu with out-of-state plates on it were probably going to be remembered by the locals. "That's where the bus picks up," Travis said to Steve as we drove past a run-down looking store. Travis cruised around the three blocks that made up the downtown area, and angled the car in to a parking space only a few doors up from one of the larger stores. Steve stepped out as Travis shut off the engine, and Leon got out from the seat beside me.

"C'mon, Em," Steve called. "Shopping time." The other guys clambered out as well, and Travis announced they were headed to get some stuff from a guy he knew. I looked at Cee, who clearly wanted to come with us instead of Travis and Leon. I was worried about leaving him alone with Travis, but I trusted Leon. But Steve had other ideas. "Cee, you make sure these two stay out of trouble, okay?"

Cee looked doubtful, and Travis looked pissed, but the three of them crossed the street and entered a hardware store.

Steve and I walked down a few doors until we came to a clothing store, Wilson's. It was kind of dark inside, and the displays in the window were all about five years behind the current fashions I'd seen on the few occasions I watched television, but it was quiet too. We were the only customers inside, so far as I could tell. At the back of the store I could see a couple of women unpacking some clothing and hanging clothes. A bored-looking black girl sat behind a counter over to the side of the store, reading a magazine. She hadn't even glanced up as we came in.

"Don't go crazy," Steve said quietly. "Just get something for today and maybe tomorrow. Whatever you need." He peeled off about three hundred dollars from a roll of bills he had in his hand and gave them to me.

"Steve," I began questioningly.

"Never told you my folks had money, did I?" He smiled. "Lots. They wouldn't give it to me, not after what happened, but they give my sister anything she asks for. My sister and I get on just fine. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

He walked across to the men's department, at the other side of the store. I nervously made my way across to the nearest rack of women's clothing. It was tops, mostly the halter-necked kind although there were a few sleeved tops with plunging necklines on the rack as well. I skimmed through a few of them, and then realized that I had no idea what size I was. What were my measurements the last time I saw Blaha? I really couldn't remember. I knew the panties I had on were small, and the bra was a 32b, but what did that mean in these tops? Mildly panicked, I moved across to another rack, which was full of skirts. These were marked 6,8,10,12. That was no help, either. I turned to catch Steve's eye -- not that he'd have been any help -- and was startled to find that the bored sales assistant was standing right behind me. II jumped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sugar, I didn't mean to startle you," she said. "Can I help you with anything?"

I tried to regain my breath. "Uh, I grew... I put on some weight this year, and I was just wondering..."

"Okay, sugar. Let's see, I think you're a 6 in that skirt you've got." I realized that in my shock I had pulled a skirt from the rack as she surprised me. It was short -- it looked very short, in dark blue cotton with small white flowers on it. It wasn't so bad, except maybe for the shortness of it. I didn't mind showing off my legs for Steve, but I'd never worn a skirt before in my life.

"You want to try it on?" she said, holding a skirt. She was only a couple of years older than I was, I guessed.

"Uh, I guess." I said.

"Well, you might wanna try a different top on to see how it looks. You're not gonna see any of it under that shirt." She said. "How 'bout this?"

"Uh, maybe," I said. I had no idea how that piece of fabric was going to cover my chest.

In a few moments I had the skirt, and three tops, and she was ushering me toward the changing cubicles. I had a moment of panic that she was going to stay inside with me, but she hung the clothes up and pulled the door to as she left. "You just call out if you want something else," she said.

I stripped off my shirt and pants and saw myself in the full-length mirror for the first time since my last visit to Blaha's office. With my cock tucked between my legs there was no way anyone could tell I wasn't a girl. I had never seen myself in a bra before, and I was amazed at the way it made me look, even though it was too flimsy to do much in the way of support. I didn't need much support anyway. But the bra seemed even a little small in the cups for me, since the flesh of my breasts bulged over just slightly.

I tried on the skirt, and then pulled on one of the tops over my head. They both fit perfectly. The top was in a purple synthetic material, pretty much like a t-shirt, except it clung to my body a lot more, and it had a low neckline that showed the top of my breasts. As I bent over to pick up another top from the chair in the room I caught a glimpse in the mirror of my cleavage revealed as I bent over. I remembered how I used to try to sneak glimpses down the top of Maria's blouse whenever I thought she wasn't looking.

Maria. As I turned in the mirror to see -- as best I could -- how I looked from behind, I remembered Maria, and how great she had looked in just jeans and a t-shirt. Looking at myself I realized that we had pretty similar figures. She was probably bigger in the bust, but I was narrower in the waist.

I tried to shake off her memory, and I tried on the other tops. The second one, in a pale blue, went well with the skirt and was slightly less revealing. I decided I felt more comfortable in it.

The third top was a halter, and I realized after I put it on that I wouldn't be able to wear a bra with it because the straps wouldn't be covered. I took it off again and had just taken off my bra when the salesgirl knocked on the door and then entered immediately without waiting for me to say anything.

"How you doin', sugar," she said.

"Okay," I said nervously. No-one except Steve and Blaha and Gonzales had seen me naked since I had come into Brand. I hadn't been near-naked in front of a woman since I was eight, when my mother saw me in the shower. At first I was anxious, but then I relaxed. It wasn't like she had never seen a pair of breasts, after all, right? I began to try to do up the halter, but I couldn't get it fastened in the back.

"Here, let me help you with that," the salesgirl said. "It's easy once you get the hang of it, but why they didn't put an easier clasp on it I'll never know." She fastened it and I felt it press my breasts up higher on my chest, snugly gathered in by the stretchy fabric. It felt kind of good. I looked in the mirror. The top left all of my body below my breasts and above the waistline of the skirt totally bare, and really showed off my slim waistline. My nipples pushed out against the fabric of the top.

"Maybe you put on weight, sugar, but it's done gone to the right places," the salesgirl said. "Is that your brother or your boyfriend out there?"

"Steve? Uh, my boyfriend."

"I figured -- saw you come in together. I think he's gonna love you in this."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. Honey, they all gonna love you in that outfit."

"Okay. Thanks." I reached down to the pants and shirt I'd discarded, then thought better of it. "Say, can you cut the tags off these so I can wear them out of here?"

"Sure, sugar." She looked with disdain at the clothes I'd worn in. "But you gonna need some new shoes if you want to wear that."

I looked with dismay at my Brand-issue sneakers. They were androgynous enough, but they were old and shabby and she was right, they didn't go with the skirt.

"I guess..."

"There's a store right across the street."

"Yeah..."

"Don't you be worrying about the cost, sugar. I done seen the money your boyfriend got, he gonna pay for this when he sees you like that." She said. "What else you need?"

"Uh..." I stopped to think. It was Steve's money, after all.

"Did you like just fall off a bus here or somethin', sugar? I mean, you got strange clothes on for such a pretty thing."

I tried hard to think clearly. "Uh, yeah... Yeah. I was, I was in a small accident on my way here to see my cousins, and when they towed the car we didn't get our bags out, and I had to borrow this from my cousin Travis." It sounded kind of lame even to me.

"Accident? You mean you don't have anythin'?"

"Not really... I mean, we can get my clothes in a day or so, but until then I need some things."

Within fifteen minutes she had me in new lingerie, pantyhose, a denim jacket and a pair of jeans, and so many sweaters and dresses I had to stop her. Everything I tried on she pronounced perfect, and after she complimented me on a short yellow sun dress I collapsed on the chair, laughing. "Don't you be laughing, now" she said. "Looks like your boyfriend is gonna help pay for my holiday."

We settled on three tops, a sweater, the pair of jeans and the skirt. And the lingerie and the pantyhose. And the denim jacket. I wore the jeans and the blue top out of the fitting room, barefoot, and she began to ring them up on the register. Steve joined me, an anxious look on his face.

"That took a long time," he said.

"Don't you be giving her a hard time," the salesgirl said. "After she's been in an accident and all. That'll be three hundred and nine dollars and eighty eight cents." Steve looked at me, stupefied, and handed over the cash without a murmur. I had a little explaining to do when we left the store.

When we got back to the car there was no sign of Travis, Leon or Cee. At first we were both worried, but there was no sign of anything untoward, so Steve and I went across the street to the shoe store. The sales assistant there seemed to get some kind of kick out of feeling up my feet, which made me giggle and got Steve a little pissed. We came out of the place with a pair of boots for Steve and three pairs of shoes for me.

We sat in the car nervously for almost half an hour, expecting at any minute to be set upon by the local police. Finally the others showed up. Travis was clearly tanked, carrying a half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey. Leon might have been drinking too; it was always hard to tell with him. Cee looked bad. At first I thought maybe he was drunk, too, but it wasn't that; it was more that he looked pale and, well, kind of dazed. There was liquor on his breath, but I didn't think that was the problem. My senses went into overdrive trying to put together all the ugly emotions that were coming from the guys

Steve was pretty mad with Travis, but he didn't say anything. That's how come I knew he was mad. He took the keys from Travis and got back in the car without saying a word, and the guys meekly got in and looked suitably chastened. Steve drove over to the supermarket and he and I got some food while the guys stayed in the car. Then we all went back to the cabin. Not a word was spoken the whole time we were in the car.

 

 (continued)

 

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All rights reserved by the author, who can be contacted at rebecca7@cotse.com.

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