Snippets 4

By Melanie E.

A Short Introduction:
This volume of Snippets is quite a bit different from the first three. Rather than being short, but complete, stories, this is more of an actual collection of snippets -- pieces of stories I've been working on. Some of these are relatively recent, being born from brainstorming sessions as I try to get myself back into writing. Some of these are years old, and have been mentioned in previous blogs and postings of mine as "works in progress."

All of them, however, have one definite feature in common: they are far from being finished, and I'm not sure if they ever will be.

Therefore, I have decided to post what I have, as is, for reader's enjoyment thereof. Some of these I might attack again at some point in the future, fleshing them out and finishing them off. Perhaps they will appear as something almost completely unrecognizable from what they are here.

Others, if the author is right, I might pass on to another, should someone I think could do a good job of them ask for one.

For now, this is what there is, and this is what readers will get.

Enjoy.

-----
Java
-----

"Hi."

I looked up from my laptop at the guy leaning over my table. "Um, hi?"

He turned his head and gave me an odd look for a moment, then began to smile. "I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone."

"No, that's alright," I said, closing my laptop and slipping it into its sleeve. "I wasn't trying to be rude. Go ahead and sit down."

He glanced about before sitting down across from me, then gave me an awkward grin. "To be honest, uh, I had thought you were a girl."

Now it was my turn to grin. "Oh really?" I looked him up and down, and mentally sighed. He was cute, that was for sure. At least six two I would say, with a dark complexion and deep brown eyes, and short cropped black hair, he was just my type. He even had the kind of goatee I always found so attractive on guys, and looked well built to boot.

"Uh, is there a problem?"

I shook my head, clearing it of the erroneous thoughts going through it. "No, nothing." If he had come over because he thought I was a girl, then he was obviously straight, and until I could afford to start seeing a doctor there was nothing I could do to make myself his type. But that was another problem entirely.

"So what were you working on?"

"I was just playing Everia, their wireless is better here than at home."

"Really? I play too. Avian rifleman, you?"

"Fae arcanist," I smirked.

That led us into a discussion of games that helped to ease the awkward tension that had begun to form between us, and before I knew it we had spent more than an hour talking.

"I really need to get going to class," I said apologetically, picking up my laptop sleeve and bag.

"Me too," he said, standing up himself. "What's your name?"

I had an idea that was too intriguing to pass up. "You thought I was a girl at first right?"

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

I looked at my cold cappuccino, then around me at the coffee shop. "You can call me Monica," I said, then left him there with a bewildered look on his face.

~

"So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

With a grin I closed my book, marking my page with my finger. "Apparently serving as practice for the world's cheesiest lines." I cleared room at the small table for him to set his tray down, taking the opportunity to admire his musculature in the loose basketball jersey he had on.

"It was Monica, right?"

"That's what I said."

He gave me another odd look, then shrugged. "Okay."

I watched as he shoveled food into his mouth, marveling at the massive quantities he was consuming. "You never gave me your name, though," I said, when he finally came up for air.

"I'm Michael," he said, holding his hand across the table to me. I reached out and shook it. "So what's your real name?"

I gave him a hurt look. "You mean Monica isn't good enough for you?"

He laughed. "Alright, then. Monica it is. So, MONICA," he said, emphasizing the name, "what's there to do around here? I just moved down from Brighton, and you're the only person I've talked to besides a couple of my coworkers."

"Where do you work?"

He waved out the window toward the building across the street. "Over there, at the newspaper. I'm the new reporter."

I gave him a disbelieving glance. "You don't look like a newspaper reporter."

"And what exactly is a newspaper reporter supposed to look like?"

I framed my head with my hands. "Fedora. Scruffy beard. Maybe a cigar and a trenchcoat, walks around with a tape recorder and a legal pad all the time."

"HAH! Where did you get an idea like that?"

I shrugged. "From the movies."

"Oh, of course," he said sarcastically. "But seriously, what is there to do around here."

I thought for a moment. "What kinds of things do you like?"

He leaned back, and I was surprised to see the massive pile of food he had brought was already gone. "Well, I like computer games, sports, cheesy horror movies and good music."

I wanted to die. This guy was perfect, and here I was unable to do a thing about it. Damn hormones. "Okay, well, there's 'The Killing Quarter,' that's the arcade up the street, there's a fitness center with open basketball courts downtown, and a local dollar theater that plays some of the worst movies you'll ever see. Not much in the way of music around here, though, besides the bar scene."

He nodded. "Sounds like this place is just about perfect."

"Yeah, it is," I said.

"So, what about you? What do you do?"

I raised the book I still held in my hand and indicated the title.

"'Teaching Through Tenderness?'"

"Yup. I just started at the local elementary school, teaching kindergarten."

He looked me up and down. "You don't look like a kindergarten teacher. They're usually wrinkly old ladies with those weird shaped glasses and a thing for cats."

I chuckled. "I deserved that I guess." Not that I was what you would call an outstanding example of manhood, one of the few things I felt happy about. At five ten I was a bit taller than I would have liked, but the hormones I had been on for the past two months had finally started to show some results, softening my skin, adding weight in my hips, and I had managed just the week before to finish my last session of beard electrolysis. With my shoulder length dirty blonde hair, it was no surprise that he had thought I was a girl when he had seen me the day before. "It's just something I've always wanted to do. Working with kids, I mean. I don't think anybody actually grows up wanting to be a teacher."

"I thought it was pretty common for kids to want to be teachers?"

"Oh, we all say that when we're growing up, but what we really want to be is archaeologists like Indiana Jones, or scientists like Madame Curie, or great writers like Mark Twain."

"Nope!"

"No?"

"Not a bit," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "I wanted to be a reporter, just like Clark Kent."

"And be Superman by night, I bet," I teased, before mentally slapping myself for the flirty tone in my voice. Bad girl!

The confusion from our first meeting was back in his eyes as he stood up, leaving money for his meal -- and, I noticed, mine -- on the table.

"You know..."

"Yes?" I asked when he failed to continue, though I couldn't bring myself to look up at him.

"Monica really does suit you."

With that, he left the diner, leaving me blushing and grinning, wondering when we would next meet again.

-----
-----
Tickets
~~~~~~~~~<3

Have you ever wanted something so deeply, so badly, that you would do anything in the world to have it?

What would you do if you were given the chance to do exactly that?

"You won?!"

"I won!"

I smiled for Lonnie's benefit, but inside I was seething. He didn't even LIKE Grace Atkins, yet here he was, holding two tickets to her concert. A concert that had been sold out for two weeks.

A concert I had been trying to find tickets for.

"I didn't think you even liked her music. How did you know the answer to the question?"

He gave me a look that said 'really?'

"Really?"

I nodded.

He laughed wickedly. "You're always going on about 'Grace Atkins this' or 'Grace Atkins that,' how was I NOT gonna pick up some of that trivia hanging around you?"

He was still laughing, but I felt my own expression souring. The rat had won the contest because of me!

"I'll give you two hundred bucks for one of the tickets."

"Not on your life."

"Lonnie!"

He backed away from me, waving the tickets in the air like a trophy. "Hey, this is a great opportunity for me! Do you know how many girls would kill for a chance to get to go to this concert?"

"YES. Please, man? Com'mon! Two hundred, PLUS my Xbox!"

"Nope."

"I'll give you ANYthing, just please!" I sniffled, hating myself for wanting to cry. Even before the concert sold out I hadn't been able to lay my hands on any tickets I could afford, and now I was standing mere feet from them, and there was nothing I could do.

Lonnie looked at me, his green eyes flashing as I watched the cogs working in his head. "Anything?"

"Yes!"

Pocketing the tickets, he held up his hand in a boy scout salute. "Do you, Mason Damon Wooster, so promise to do whatever it is I ask of you in order to obtain my extra ticket?"

My hand shot up immediately, but my common sense caught up quickly. I hesitated.

"Well?"

"Lemme think for a moment."

"You got five minutes," he said, keeping his hand in position while checking his watch on his other wrist. I'm sure he would have started whistling the theme to 'Jeopardy' if he could, but Lonnie had never been able to get the hang of whistling.

We had been friends since we were little, growing up next door to one another. We had been born only a week apart to moms who had been best friends since THEY were little kids. We had done just about everything together, and now that we were in college, it had only been natural that we had gone to the same school. He had even agreed to pay half the rent for an off campus apartment to help me out.

On the other hand, Lonnie had a mischievous streak a mile wide. If I agreed to this, there was no telling what he would get me involved in.

Then again, he'd probably talk me into whatever he wanted to do anyhow. He usually did.

"One minute forty-five seconds."

"Deal."

"What?" He held his hand to his ear, immitating being hard of hearing.

With a sigh I held up my hand in a mockery of his own salute. "I, Mason Damon Wooster, do so solemnly swear to do whatever it is that my good, caring friend Lonnie Samus Masterson asks in exchange for a ticket to the Grace Atkins concert."

"You forgot good looking. BUT... I'll let it slide this time," he added when he saw me gearing up for a good scream.

I felt my shoulders slump at the relief of having the ticket. Hey, just 'cause I'm twenty doesn't mean I'm not allowed a good yell every now and then. "So, can I know what I've gotta do now, or are you gonna hold this out for the next time you really need something?"

He shook his head, grinning like the fool I knew he wasn't. "No, I already know exactly what I want you to do."

"What's that?" I asked, feeling my palms grow sweaty as I waited for his answer.

"You have to go as Masey."

Blink.

"You're kidding."

"Them's the breaks, kiddo," he said, giving me a not-ungentle noogie.

Okay, at this point, a little explanation is in order.

I've never been what you would call a 'normal' guy. When we were little, Lonnie would be the one who would play in the mud and run about climbing trees while I watched and laughed, being careful not to get dirty. When we got older, we would take turns choosing activities, him generally picking out toy guns or vehicles while I would go for playing zookeepers with our stuffed animals and pets, or other games of pretend. When we got older and started playing video games, things stopped being so frustrating, though he would still pick the shooting or fighting games while I preferred the building games and RPGs.

It was shortly after we turned thirteen that he had first caught me wearing a dress.

At first I had played it off as another game of pretend, saying I had just been curious and picked it up at the flea market for a couple of bucks. He had merely shrugged, and in exchange for not telling anyone got my help in what was to be the first of a long line of pranks on his older sister that would nearly get us hung on a regular basis.

The second time he caught me, I used the same excuse, and he let it slide.

The third time, I finally admitted to him that I was a girl.

In all the stories I've read online, this was usually the turning point for whether the main character was accepted or hated. In Lonnie's case, he said nothing to me and left the house.

We didn't talk for almost a month after that. I lived each day in terror that Lonnie would tell someone, or beat me up, or worse, keep simply ignoring me.

When he finally did speak to me, his words were simple and to the point.

"So what do I call you when you're dressed as a girl?"

Mason Darla Wooster was quickly shortened to "Masey," and after that any time he would come over and our parents weren't around it would be a toss-up as to which me he hung out with.

That was why we had an off campus apartment. This way, I could be a girl when I needed to without running into roommate problems or similar issues. In exchange, I cooked all our meals and kept the place clean.

Hey, I might be a walking stereotype sometimes, but damnit if I wasn't happy with the arrangement.

The only problem was that I had always refused to go out as a girl.

Since we were sixteen, Lonnie had been trying to convince me I looked good enough to go out. Several times we had almost done it, but something had always come up to prevent it.

The very idea scared the hell out of me.

Back to now...

"You can't be serious, Lonnie. There's no way."

"Alright then. Do you think Jenny would go with me? I hear she likes Grace At-"

"NO!"

He laughed. "Well, then. Either Masey goes, or another girl does. Your choice."

I glared at him.

"Hey, you cut the deal, I'm just laying the terms."

"...I hate you, Lonnie."

"And I love you too. The concert's tomorrow night, but you probably already knew that. Do you have something nice enough to wear?"

Despite my protests, I nodded glibly as Lonnie simply stood there, his ever-so-confident smile making me want to smack him.

Oh, he would pay for this. Believe me, he would pay.

~~~~~~~~~<3

-----
-----

Not ANOTHER Cheerleading Story!

==

"Hurry up, Evan!"

"I'm coming!" I yelled down the hall after my brother's retreating back.

"No yelling in the house!"

"Sorry Mom!"

It was always like this in the mornings. We were never late, but Adam always had to make everything a competition, and he had proven before that if I was more than five minutes behind him getting ready he wouldn't hesitate to leave me to find my own way to school.

I did one last quick check to make sure I had everything I needed before blasting down the stairs myself, making it just in time to see Adam heading out the door. I fought the urge to curse, another no-no in the house, as I dashed out the front door, making it to the car just as he fired up the engine.

"Good to see you made it."

"We've got an hour before school starts, and it only takes fifteen minutes to get there. Could you please tell me why you do this every morning?"

"We're twins, shouldn't you be able to read my mind and figure that out or something?" He asked with a sneer.

"No, I don't think so, or would want to," I sneered right back.

Despite being born on the same day to the same parents, Adam and I had almost nothing in common. "Paternal twins" the doctors had said even before we were born, due to our already marked differences. Even as babies Adam had been bigger than me, though I was the one who had been born with a full head of hair, a rich dark brown as opposed to Adam's dirty blond. Hoping we would be a boy and a girl, and in a fit of Christianity they had regretted ever since, our mom and dad had chosen the names "Adam" and "Eve." When it turned out I was a boy and not the girl they had wanted they changed it to "Evan," luckily for me.

Our differences had only grown more pronounced as we had grown older. I had continued to be the smaller of the two of us, and everyone assumed that Adam must be my older brother despite the fact that I was born a whole fifteen minutes before him, thank you very much. He had become the family jock, big, strong, and with the competitive spirit to match. Not that I couldn't be competitive, but I preferred to turn that competitiveness in on myself, always striving to do better than I had in the past at anything I tried.

Looking at us now, him in his letterman jacket proclaiming him varsity basketball captain and me in my cheerleading jacket, it was almost laughable to consider us twins. Yes, I'm a cheerleader. Currently I'm the only guy on the squad, since our other three graduated last year, but that hadn't stopped me from joining again.

Soon our ride was over, neither of us saying much, and as we pulled into the school I had an unexpected surprise.

"Hey, Ev, over here!"

Tina and Ryley waved to me from the sidewalk of the school, both bouncing excitedly. Two of my better friends, we had been on the cheer squad together for three years, but I still always felt the urge to grin when I would see them. Like Adam and I they were fraternal twins. They both had dark hair down to their shoulders, but Tina was the taller of the two, while Ryley was a little stockier and if anything the friendlier of the two.

"Hey girls, what's up?" I asked, giving them both small hugs as we met up, Adam simply rolling his eyes.

"Nothin', just wanting to talk to our FAVORITE person in the entire world about a little something-something we were working on."

"Good luck," Adam said, waving to me as he walked off, leaving me to the girls' mercy. When Tina and Ryley teamed up with a "plan," it was almost never a good thing for any of the other persons involved.

I backed up a step, looking at the girls. Both of them smiled at me, scaring me even more.

"Pleeeease?" They asked in unison.

I sighed. "It depends, what is it?"

"Well, it's kinda like this..."

-----

"What? Why!"

"Because it'll be fun!"

"Because it'll be funny!"

"Because it makes things easier," Ms. Bailey, our cheer coach, chimed in from directly behind me, making me jump with an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp.

"I don't think I follow," I said, looking into her dark eyes.

She smiled at me, showing a full set of perfect teeth. "You're the only guy on the squad, and if you recall, not a single boy made it past tryouts last year."

I nodded and winced at the same time, recalling just how bad the two 'applicants' had been.

"That gives us a choice. We can do the coed competitions, where we will be unable to do many of the required stunts. You're a fine young man, but you just aren't strong enough for any of the one-man stunts the judges find impressive."

It hurt, but she was right.

"Or, we can register as a girls-only squad this year. The regional rules allow a single boy to be on the squad and still qualify as an all-girls team as long as our program sticks to the guidelines provided concerning stunts. You're an excellent tumbler, and do wonderful work as a base when we're doing thows and lifts, so this is the way I would prefer to go."

"Okay," I said, seeing her logic, and finding the urge to point out the one critical flaw irresistible. "But why does that mean I have to wear a girl's uniform?"

"That was our idea," Ryley said in a small voice, raising her hand.

"But... why?"

"We already told you! It'll be fun!"

I stared at Tina, one eyebrow raised, until she began to giggle and blush. It had worked since we were kids -- we called it The Giggle Stare. "Come on, there's gotta be more to it than that."

"Alright already," Ms. Bailey said, clasping my shoulder gently. "They thought it would be a good joke, but it really does have a lot of benefits for the squad." When I didn't say anything, she continued. "First of all, it wouldn't have to be at games, just at competitions. Squads that have a guy on them in the all-girl competitions are supposed to be judged impartially, but always get treated a little different by the judges. They'll still know we have a guy on our team, but I'm hoping that by having you blend in with the other girls," a choice of words I didn't miss, "they will ignore that and judge us fairly."

I shook my head, and began to walk away.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

I laughed as I turned around, seeing Ryley watching me in confusion. "Sorry, girls, but you know this would never work. The first time one of our classmates went to a competition, or we competed against one of the local teams who had seen me at a game, what do you think would happen to us?"

All three of them frowned, obviously painfully aware of what I was pointing out.

"The only option would end up being for me to wear the girl's uniform all the time, wouldn't it?"

They nodded slowly.

The smile I had been wearing for most of the conversation slid into a scowl. "I've got the highest GPA in our class, girls. I'm not stupid. Not only that, but we've been friends since we were kids, and never in that entire time have you been able to hide things from me. Just tell me what's going on."

Tina pouted, but stepped forward and shrugged. "We really did just think it would be fun, and when we told coach she liked the idea. We didn't think you'd agree, but wanted to ask anyway because..."

"Because it was fun to ask," I finished for her, drawing another nod from all three.

We were silent for a moment. I turned around, looking away from them as I mulled over things.

"I'll think about it."

"Huh?" Was the astonished response from behind me, but by that time the first bell had already rung, and I was on my way to class.

-----

The nice thing about the first few weeks of school, at least for me, was always how little work there was. Sure, there was plenty of
review of things most of the class probably forgot over their vacation, but I had never had that problem, and all my teachers knew it.

That was probably the only reason I made it through the day without getting in trouble for daydreaming.

What the girls had asked me to do... well, it wasn't the first time they had ever asked me to dress up as a girl. We had, on more than one occasion, gone out to the movies, or just to hang out, as Tina, Ryley, and Eva. Not that Adam, or our dad, had ever known, though I had a good feeling that Adam expected as much.

And I had looked pretty good. Nobody had ever expected I wasn't a girl, at least, and I had even been hit on a couple of times, to the girls' delight.

But this. This was more than just us playing around. I hadn't been lying when I said that doing it at competition meant I might as well do it all the time. No matter what, people would see, and instead of ripping the band-aid off slowly it would be better to just never cover it up to begin with. Add to that the times we had gone out before, and it was inevitable that someone would recognize me as Eva.

Yet, for some reason, I still wanted to do it.

Me and the girls had been friends for so long for a reason. I agreed with them that it seemed like it would be a blast, seeing people's reactions to it. And maybe, just maybe, it would give me a chance to go out with the girls as Eva a little more often, if we could use the cheerleading deal as an excuse or jumping off point somehow.

Maybe it was a little weird, but spending more time as Eva was the main draw of the deal for me. I had never kept it a secret from the girls how much I enjoyed our times out together, which I'm sure had played some part in their plan. It had always just seemed to me that I was more comfortable in my skin when we went out as girls. Perhaps this would give me a chance to figure out why.

-----
-----

The Notch System

===

If you were to ask us, neither Will nor I would be able to tell you exactly when it was that we started using our "notch system." It was just one of those things that happened, but over the years it had become one of our most steady competitions.

Any time one of us would do something that hurt the other or pissed them off, they would earn a "notch" on a pole we kept at Will's place. There were of course rules, and some things could even result in more than one notch being added, but for the most part how many notches one of us had never came into contention, since even with such a system in place we both trusted each other not to cheat the other. Even then, we let each other get away with a lot of "notch worthy" transgressions, and after so long doing it only the worst mistakes and foibles would be added.

When it was time to cash in the notches, though, we always knew we would be in trouble. We had an agreement that if there was a favor we needed that we knew the other would hate or never do under most circumstances, we could cash in part of our notches in exchange for the favor, no questions asked. In all the years we had been doing it, neither one of us had ever cashed in what we had reverently begun to refer to as a "notch favor," something we had steadily grown more and more weary of. As time went by, it almost became another competition entirely to see who would cash out their favor first.

Until now.

===

"I'm cashing in my notches."

Will said it so casually, an outsider would never realize how major his statement had been.

"...wait. What?" I looked up from my game to see Will standing next to the television with a sick look on his face. Carefully, I paused my game and set the controller down. "You're serious?"

"Uh, yee-eah." He shuffled his feet, staring at the floor like he always did when he had to say something he knew I would not like hearing.

Silence.

"Well."

"You're not gonna like it."

I chuckled humorlessly to myself, trying not to let my nervousness show. "Of course not. Geez, man... is it really that big?"

"Yeah."

I stared at him for a moment, taking in how nervous he was. Whatever he had to ask, it must be major, even for a "notch favor."

"Whoo, boy. Well, what is it?"

"I, uh..." He stopped talking, and instead scratched his neck uncomfortably. "I need you to go to my sister's wedding with me.

I felt the tension that had been slowly building in my chest deflate at those words. "Alright, that's fine. What was the big deal?"

"As my date."

"...oh." That certainly changed things. He never had to say what that would entail. "Will, you know I'd do anything for you, but I have to ask. WHY?" I knew the volume of my voice was rising, but there was little I could do to stop it. "You know I haven't done anything like that in years, and you're wanting me to do it now? In front of your family? Who all know me, by the way, so just what do you think they'll say when you show up with a girl who looks exactly like me?"

"Well, Shana always said you looked pretty when you let her dress you up."

"And what does that have to do with anything?"

"It was her idea."

I had stood up from the couch at some point during my rant, but now I sank back down into the cushions, cradling my face in my hands. I gave myself a moment to calm down. "Okay, why does she want me to go with you? Surely you could find someone else?"

He sat down in the recliner across from me and leaned back, rubbing his temples. The sickly pallor had started to drain from his face, leaving him looking merely stressed. "I know, and I could, except... you remember Holly Freeman, don't you?"

"Yeah. Isn't she your sister's best friend?"

"Yup. My sister said she's been asking about me, and wants to hook us up, but if I show up stag at the wedding I'll just look desperate. I told her I didn't know any of the girls around here well enough to ask them to attend the wedding with me, especially on a 'just friends' basis if I'm going to be hitting on another woman right in front of them."

"So she suggested me," I said matter-of-factly.

"You got it."

"Damn." I flopped back into the cushions and thought for a moment about exactly what he had asked me, and by extension his sister had asked me. I had stopped dressing up around the time I had started growing facial hair, because I was becoming a man, and men did not dress up like girls. Since then I had learned differently, both from television and the wonders that are on the Internet, but I had refused to try it again for fear that I would like it too much.

"Listen, man, I know you don't want to do this, and if you say no then I'm not gonna make you. I'm offering the notches as a bribe, not as a pressure. But if you do, I promise not to let anything happen, and Shana said she'd help you out if there were any problems."

"And what about Holly? I know for a fact that you went on a few double dates with her back when Shana was still dating Mr. Groom-
to-be."

"Lucas."

"That's what I said. Back then, your sister cock blocked you all the way. what's changed now?"

"Holly's... it's complicated. Apparently her husband's been beating her."

"She's married, with an abusive husband, and your sister wants to hook you up with her. That's great. You realize your sister's fucked in the head, right?"

"Hey, don't say that!" Will gave me an icy glare, like he gave anyone who insulted his sister. "She's hoping that if Holly and I hit it off, she'll work up the nerve to leave her husband. Jesus Christ, Tom, I don't like this any better than you do, but Shana said that she's tried everything else to get Holly to leave the asshole but she's too depressed to do it."

"And she doesn't think you'll look like a creep showing up with a date and hitting on a married woman?"

"She's told Holly I'm showing up with someone who's 'just a friend' and that I wanted to talk to her about old times or some shit like that."

I laughed bitterly. "So in other words Shana's already set all this up without our input and now she expects us to go along with it."
Will nodded sourly.

I kept myself from saying it, but I still though it -- this was typical Shana. Will had always looked up to his older sister, and she had always used him. It always came just short of bullying, but if he refused what she wanted he always paid for it in some way later. The sad thing was, Will never seemed to notice how badly she used him, and the times I had brought it up were some of the few times that Will and I had ever had fights.

Unfortunately, I had always had a hard time saying no when Will asked me a favor, and having my "notches" cleared was a huge sacrifice for him to make.

"How far away is the wedding?"

"Next weekend."

"That's only ten days to get ready."

"I know."

I looked at Will's face again, and made a decision. "Let me see what I can do, and I'll give you an answer day after tomorrow, 'kay?"

Will gave me a nod, relief fighting on his face with embarrassment at even having to ask. "Thanks, man. Want a beer?"

"I don't think there's anything else I want more right now."

===

I took the box out from its hiding place in my closet and opened it up for the first time in months. Inside were the few girl's clothes I had bought myself, back when Shana had thought it was fun to occasionally dress me up, along with photos, a handful of costume jewelry, and the wig I had used. None of it would fit me any more, of course, but I had kept it as a reminder of how much fun it had been.

Back then, Will had not been the only one who looked up to his sister. I had been an eager accomplice in many a plan of hers, most of which had, for one reason or another, required me to be dressed as a girl. It had not been until after I started refusing that she had started her act of abusing Will's good nature. We always had fun together, and though sometimes her schemes would get us into tight situations, together we always found a way out of them.

This wedding scheme was most definitely Shana at her finest, I mused as I looked through the photos in the box, smiling as each one prompted fond memories. I had not spoken to her since her graduation -- had she changed since? If she was still coming up with plans like this, then it seemed doubtful, but if Will wanted me to give her another shot I owed him at least that much.

I closed the box up, keeping the pictures out, and put it away in the top of the closet again. While there, I took down my emergency sewing kit, and removing the measuring tape, set about finding out exactly how much work I would have to do to make this work.

Despite my refusing to ever dress as a girl, Shana's adventures had greatly affected me in other ways I had never been able to shrug off. I had always watched my weight carefully, and after the first time she had prompted me into shaving I had always kept my body devoid of hair, disgusted by the feeling of it growing. Will always thought it was hilarious, though he knew the reasons, and often picked on me about it. Now, it was looking like those same affectations would turn out to be useful.

Four hours and a good six hundred dollars later, and everything I could think of needing for the trial run was on its way, express shipping. In two days it would all be at the apartment, and the moment of truth would be imminent.

No matter what happened, though, I knew that the moment I put the first article of clothing on, everything would change for me.

There was no doubt in my mind I would like it. The only question was -- how far would this go?

===

It was only five days before the wedding that I finally revealed myself to Will. I had spent the two days between my packages arriving and my moment of unveiling practicing: doing my makeup over and over, dressing and undressing, trying new ways to make my body as feminine as possible. I even went so far as to call in all my vacation days for the year at work so that I would have time not only to prepare myself for the wedding, but afterward, to work on changing back.

The shock on Will's face was wonderful to see as I walked into the living area of our apartment. His game forgotten, the controller clattered to the floor as he stood up, gaping at me. I simply smiled, and did a small spin for him to get a better look.

"What do you think?"

"...Wow."

"Will I do okay for the wedding?"

"Okay? Christ, you look better than when Shana used to do it."

"Really?"

"WAY better."

I looked down at myself. I had chosen the least feminine outfit I could from the women's clothing I had purchased, on the assumption that if I could pass when dressed down then dressing up should be no problem. A pair of fitted jeans with a dark grey tank top under one of my old men's work shirts, buttoned but hanging loose, with a pair of simple tennis shoes made up my entire ensemble. If it had not been for my breasts and the shape of my compressed midsection beneath the shirt, it would have almost passed as a normal outfit for me.

The most notable differences beyond the breast forms were above the neck. A short but feminine haircut hung in a shaggy mop, just brushing my freshly shaped eyebrows at the front and the collar of my shirt at the back, while I had spent well over half an hour working on my face, making sure to cover up even the slightest bit of masculinity I could find. Old tricks I had learned at Shana's side had come back far more easily than I had expected them to, and I needed no mirror to know that anyone else in the room would have been just as shocked as Will at my transformation.

I allowed myself a chuckle as I crossed the room and picked up the controller from the floor and turned the game off, catching Will's reflection in the now blank TV screen staring at my backside in the somewhat tight jeans.

"It's still me, you know," I said, turning around to face him again.

With a shake of his head, he sat back down, resting his elbows on his knees. "I know, but... damn. I knew you'd look good, but... damn." He closed his eyes and leaned back. "How'd you make it look so, realistic?"

"It's amazing what a waist cincher and a little padding can do," I said as I lowered myself onto the seat next to his, doing my best to remember the mannerisms Shana had drilled into me when we were younger.

In truth, I had been just as surprised at how easily I had managed the charade. I simply didn't have the nerve to let him know that besides the breast forms and waist cincher, everything else was me, including the ass he had been staring at moments before.

"So, you still want me to do it?"

"Hell, I dunno. What do I call you when you're dressed like this?"

"Well, when we used to do this with Shana I always used the name Lacey, but I don't think that really fits me."

"Heh, not really," he said, looking up and down my body before shaking his head again. "How about Tamara or something like that?
Close to Tom, but different?"

I shook my head. "Too close. We need something different."

"Halle? Buffy? Candy?"

"NO!" I said, louder than I had intended, then started laughing. "No stripper names either, perv." I thought for a moment. "How about Amber?"

"And you said no stripper names..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing! Amber's great, I like Amber."

"Good," I said, standing up. "In that case, nice to meet you Will, I'm Amber." I held out my hand to him.

With a chuckle of his own he stood up and took my hand, lifting it to his lips and gently kissing the back. "Lovely to meet you, Amber," he said, grinning.

"Now that that's out of the way, how about taking a girl out for something to eat?"

"My pleasure." He offered me his arm, just like when we had occasionally "doubled" with Shana as part of one of her pranks. I blushed, but knowing it was an act we would have to get used to if we were going to the wedding together, I took his arm. I surprised myself with how little hesitation I felt as I took my first steps out into the world as a woman in over ten years.

We decided to go ahead with the plan, and Will even agreed to pay for the dress I would need for the wedding. We also decided that it would be best if I spent the rest of the time until the wedding as Amber, giving us a chance to get used to the difference in how we had to act around one another.

Meanwhile, in the back of my mind, I was working on a plan of my own for confronting Shana. Will showing up stag at the wedding was a poor excuse for getting me to dress up as a woman, and even if Will refused to admit it I knew that Shana was up to something else as well. What could it be? I was determined to find out.

===

"I dunno, Amber. I'm having second thoughts."

"Not now, Will. It's too late."

It was. Here we were, packing up for the drive to his parents' house where the wedding would take place, and there was no turning back. We had already had the same discussion the day before, and come to the same conclusion, so there was no way in hell I was turning back now.

As it was, I doubted Will was that much more nervous than me. Which one of us was it who had endured the bikini wax at the beauty parlor down the street, including being mildly ridiculed by the attendant when she learned who I was? ME. Though I did get my own back when her boss, who happened to be transsexual, found out. Who was it who would be wearing tight clothing and uncomfortable shoes for the next four days, and then had to work to change back? ME. Who was it whose bank account was suffering the most due to having to buy a designer dress to fit in with his family? Okay, that was Will, but I earned it, dammit.

But I knew what was really bothering him. For the last three days he had been living with a woman for all intents and purposes, and one he was obviously attracted to to boot. I had caught him I don't know how many times following me with his eyes and jerking his gaze away when he realized what he was doing. He thought I looked good, and it was messing with his head far worse than any prank I had ever pulled on him.

Me? I reveled in it. Will knew I was bi with a preference toward men, but it had never been an issue with our friendship, but this was the first time since, well, since I had quit dressing up, that I had ever really held a man's eyes. As a guy my affectations kept me from being very impressive, but as a girl those same idiosyncrasies helped to make me more than passable. I might not have been beautiful, but I was attractive in my own way, and that way obviously caught Will's eye.

We finished our packing and started on the eight hour drive to his parents', mostly in silence. Will was apprehensive about what his sister had planned for him, and I used the time to think.

I had thought about what it would be like to pursue a relationship with Will for a long time. He was straight, but he had admitted to me on more than one occasion that if he did find himself attracted to a guy he was open to considering the possibility. The problem was that I had never wanted to run the risk of losing my best friend.

Perhaps this was my chance to experiment with the idea in a way that, just maybe, Will would feel better about as well? It gave me an idea, one just crazy enough it just might work.

"Will?"

"Yeah?"

"What exactly was Shana's plan for hooking you up with Holly?"

He gave me a half-shrug, keeping his eyes on the road. "Honestly? I don't think she's thought that far ahead."

I figured. Always the schemer, Shana's plans always fell down when it came to the details. "I have an idea on that."

"Go on."

"The practice run for all of this is tomorrow afternoon, right?"

He nodded, his brows crinkling in worry. "Yeah?"

"Well, perhaps your sister was wrong about you coming with just a friend."

"WHAT!" He swerved dangerously, nearly hitting the car next to us, but recovered in time, eliciting nothing more than some angry honking from our neighbors.

"Just listen!" I said, once I managed to pry my acrylics from the dashboard. "We're more than friends, alright? But perhaps we have a fight at the church after the practice run. You're broken up, and need someone to comfort you, and we arrange it with your sister ahead of time so that Holly's the only one around at the time. You two can bond over complaints about your significant others. It's a start."

He thought about that for a moment. "Alright, I guess. It makes sense."

I nodded, then reached for his hand on the car's shifter knob. This time he managed to keep control of the car, but I could see the sweat beading up on his forehead.

"Uhm, Amber?"

"Yes, honey?" I asked, smiling sweetly at him and sliding closer on the bench seat.

"...Nothing," he croaked out, licking his lips and darting his eyes back and forth between our hands and the road.

It might have been a little evil, but it was oh so much fun.

We rode like that for almost ten minutes before I finally gave in and let go of his hand, bursting out into a cackling fit over the relief on his face.

"You shoulda seen yourself!" I said when I could finally speak again. "It was great!" I knew my makeup had to be running from the tears of laughter running down my cheeks, but I couldn't care less.

His expression soon changed from relief to one of plotting. "Oh. So that was all just you picking on me huh?"

I nodded, afraid to speak again lest I lose control again.

"Well, fine," he said, a smirk crossing his features as he slid his hand off the shifter and up onto my leg.

I let out a high pitched "Eeep!" as his hand slid higher, resting under the hem of my sundress on my thigh a good four inches above my knee.

I looked into his face. He really thought he had me in a more uncomfortable position than I had gotten him. He began to rub my thigh softly, lightly squeezing it.

The look on his face changed quickly when I squeezed his hand between my thighs and sighed softly. It took him a second to pull his hand free, returning it quickly to the shifter knob.

I couldn't help but laugh, seeing his cherry red blush, and I continued to chuckle the entire rest of the trip.

===

I grabbed his hand again as we made our way to the door of his parents' home, shushing him quietly when he went to complain. So far I was enjoying this little charade, and I wasn't going to give him the chance to ruin my fun.

Besides, as much as I hated to admit it, how I felt about Will was perhaps more than just a little crush. It had been for a long time, and there was no way I was going to lose this opportunity to act on my feelings.

He rapped the bronze doorknob three times, the same rhythm he had used for as long as we had been friends. Less than a minute later, the door was flung wide as a short, high-speed missile with white hair shot out and practically tackled him.

"Mom!"

"Sweetie, it's so good to see you! You never call, and we get so worried, but when Shana said you'd agreed to be in her wedding I just knew you'd return home to us and -- who's this?" His mom asked, finally noticing my presence, and my fingers still entwined in his.

"Uh, Mom? This is my, ah, girlfriend. Amber. Amber, this is my mom."

"Hi Missus Reese," I said in my softest voice, offering her my hand that was not holding onto Will.

I had known the little fireball that was Angelina Reese long enough to know that her natural hair color had once matched her fiery personality, so when she glanced at Will and then gave me a knowing smile I knew I was in. "Sweetheart, this family hugs. Come here." She let go of her son and I bent down to give her a gentle squeeze, trying my best not to give her any indication of who I was.

"We'll talk later," she whispered into my ear as we embraced, and I gasped quietly. When she let me go, she gave me a quick wink before leading us in and up the stairs. "I've prepared your old bedroom for your stay at home. It should have plenty of room for the two of you," she said, swinging the door wide and stepping aside. "You two take your time unpacking, dinner is in three hours. Your father and I will be in the den if you can spare the time to talk to us."

"Thanks mom," Will said, giving her another quick hug before going back downstairs to grab our bags. I tried to follow him, but his mom stopped me.

"Let him grab your things. We need to talk."

"Yes ma'am," I said, smoothing my dress and sitting on the bed.

Angelina gave me one of her patent smiles as she came over to stand before me. "Don't you ma'am me. You'll call me mom, just like you always used to when you were a little boy."

I slumped into the bed, all pretense forgotten. "Sorry mom."

"You should be. Now, which one of you had this brilliant idea then?"

"Shana."

She huffed. "I thought so. Will always has been a pushover."

I grinned. Angelina and I had always gotten along well -- she really was like a second mom to me.

"Now, can you explain why you were hanging all over my son on your way up here?"

I proceeded from there to tell her the plan, such as it was, to hook Will up with Holly. She nodded as I described Shana's proposed plan, and then my own additions to it.

"Well, I would tell you not to do it but I know you won't listen. Just be careful not to get hurt."

"I'll make sure Will doesn't bite off more than he can chew."

"I was talking about you, dear," she said enigmatically. Just as I was about to ask her what she meant, Will returned with our bags, and she left us alone.

"What was that about?"

I shook my head. "Nothing you want to know about. Trust me."

He nodded, and without another word we unpacked our bags. When that was done, he turned to me with a yawn.

"I think I'm gonna take a nap before dinner. What about you?"

I took the chance and ran with it. "Sounds great!" I said, then closed and locked the door before pulling a pair of terrycloth shorts and a tank top out of one of my recently-packed drawers.

He looked at me, stunned, as I dropped my dress right in front of him and slipped on my clothes to sleep in. "But..."

I spun around to face him, and when I saw his eyes dart from me to the bed I sighed. "We'll have to share the bed tonight, Will, so just get used to it."

He hemmed and hawed for a moment, but finally gave in and stripped down to his own boxers before climbing into the bed next to me, but on top of the sheets I had climbed under.

I still had one last dig to get in, however. "Goodnight, sweetie," I said, then snuck a kiss in on his forehead before turning over and closing my eyes, still grinning from ear to ear.

===

Dinner that night with his parents was more stiff than I was used to as his father tried to feel me out with conversation while his mother simply watched, her amusement obvious by the smile in her eyes. I wondered if she would tell him about me later, but figured the answer was probably no, since she was the one Shana and Will got their prankster streak from. I did my best to weave a believable web of lies, Will pointedly ignoring my many attempts to draw him in for backup.

Maybe that kiss was a bad idea after all.

After dinner I excused myself and with a less than ladylike nudge informed Will that he would be taking me for a walk around the grounds, which he did reluctantly.

As soon as we were out of earshot of the house, I started the conversation I knew we would have to have eventually.

"Alright, Will, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable but if we're supposed to be dating then--"

"Stop," Will said, with an edge to his voice I hadn't heard in a long time. When I looked at his face, I involuntarily took a step back. He was pissed.

"Will?"

"What's going on, Amber? Okay, you're dressed the way you are because I asked you to, and Shana asked me. I get that. I even get that you're supposed to be my date so we need to be comfortable being close in front of other people. But what the fuck?"

I had blown it royally. I had pushed him too far too fast, and now I had to explain everything. Was this what Angelina had warned me about? I thought it was.

"Okay. I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry. I just..." I stopped, unable to make myself go on. How do you admit to your best friend you've wanted to be with them for years?

"Is it because you're in love with me?"

"What!"

Will stared at me, his face now calm. "Is this because you're in love with me?"

"Mighty full of ourselves, aren't we?" I asked, my irritation showing through.

Will sighed. "Oh, come on. I've known for a while you were attracted to me."

"Says the guy who's been staring at my ass for nearly a week."

The anger flared in his eyes again, and I knew I was pushing too far. But what was I supposed to do? Here he was, confronting me with something I had thought I had kept secret, and he had known?

My face must have betrayed my thoughts, because of all the things he could have done at that moment, he laughed. "You really thought I didn't know? We've been friends since what, preschool? I've seen the way you look at people you like, and I've seen the way you look at me. I'm not an idiot."

I lowered my head. "Alright, so MAYBE I've had a bit of a crush on you for a while, okay?" I rushed the words out, trying to say them before I locked up again. "But as Tom I never would have tried anything you know that, but since I'm Amber at the moment I thought it wouldn't hurt and you'd probably react better if I looked like a girl and, uh."

"So I was right."

Silence.

"Yeah?"

He nodded. He no longer looked pissed, but he still looked far from happy. "Listen, Amber. You're my best friend, and you know I care a lot about you but I'm still a bit uncomfortable with all this. I..." He paused, seeming to be unsure of his own words. "Can we just cool it a bit when it's just the two of us? I'm not saying no to you," he said when he saw my face, which must have looked horrible, "but I don't know if I can handle this, you, right now, okay?"

I didn't say anything.

"Friends?" He asked me, opening his arms toward me, and I gladly hugged him. "Now come on, let's go back inside." He offered me his hand, and I took it far more nervously than I had back in the car. No longer was I just testing the waters to see how he would react. I had pushed it too far, but he had responded with the same friendship we had always shared.

As we walked back to the house, I thought about his words from earlier, and wondered if what I felt for him really was more love than a crush. I was starting to think it was. Suddenly, I knew exactly what his mom had been talking about.

===

-----
-----

Body Work

--

I guess I can't say I wasn't expecting SOMEthing to happen. Well, of COURSE I was expecting something to happen, that's the entire point of the thing, but I really wasn't expecting something like THIS.

Where to start? I guess the beginning is always the best. My name's Cody West, and at the time this all started I was just beginning my sophomore year at Charlotte Hamilton Isenberg College, though most everyone around here knows it better as CHIC College. No, it isn't a girl's only school, though I think something like seventy percent of the student body is female. Actually, it's a pretty good liberal arts college, and is named after a rich lady who used to own the land it was built on. Since it's so small, tuition's pretty low, but I had lost one of my part time jobs after having a little too much fun my freshman year - what with LAN parties in the computer lab, tabletop games in the cafeteria, and all the parties held the rest of the time, I could never find time to work in my busy social schedule. Losing that money really hurt my finances, and even though I had learned my lesson, my one part-time job wasn't going to cut the gap in my tuition. I had two choices, drop the cost of the dorms and move back home - an hour and a half drive each direction every day, and no bus route anywhere near my parent's place - or find another way to make some money that wouldn't take away from my study time.

My roommate Justin tried to be supportive, but we both knew it was my own stupid fault, and he couldn't keep himself from picking on me about it.

"Don't you wish you'd listened to me last year when I told you that you should spend less of your time playing Half-Life with your little geek friends?"

I hung my head. "YES. I know. I was stupid. Can we please just STOP TALKING ABOUT IT," I asked as I continued to riffle through the want ads, "I need to find another part time job, or a full time one that won't mess with my classes, otherwise not only will I be outta here but you'll be having to deal with a new roommate."

"I'll help you look."

"Thanks."

Justin picked up one of the papers I had strewn around me on my bed and started looking for jobs for me. Justin was a great guy, but he had some pretty bad trust issues after his freshman roommate took most of his stuff at the end of the year. When I moved in as a freshman he was a sophomore, and weary of having to deal with someone else around all his things, but we established a good set of rules quickly. He knew he could trust me, and I knew I could trust him, even though we were as different as, well, as college roommates tend to be.

I dunno, is it a rule or something? If you're a geek in high school, your college roommate is gonna be a jock. If you were gay, you're gonna end up with a homophobe, country boys will get gangster wannabes, the list goes on. Unless they requested roommates, every person I knew on campus had their polar opposite as a roommate, and me and Justin were no exception. While I was pasty and, admittedly, a bit frail from spending way too much time playing games and reading, Justin was your typical good ol' boy minus the bigoted attitude. For every hour I spent in high school in my room shooting friends up online he must have been outside digging ditches or hauling hay or any number of other manly farm-things from the way he described it, but even with our very different backgrounds we found common ground in our intelligence, both of us being honors students and living in the male honor's dorm.

"Ooh, here's one. 'Waiter needed for new club down on'... no, never mind, it's that new gay bar down the street, I heard they only hired drag queens."

"What kind of normal guy would take a job like that?"

"I dunno. 'Sides, you aren't skinny enough to pass as a girl, even if you are a CHIC."

I mumbled something that was undecipherable, but may well have been "Go fuck yerself with a hammer." My weight was one issue I was NOT going to get into with Mr. Ideal standing right there. What can I say? 'Dews and Slim Jims combined with hours in a computer chair do not a striking figure make, unless you're doing a belly flop. I still wasn't as bad as most of the guys in my gaming group, I mean, I wore a size 40 jean and that isn't all that bad for someone six foot tall.

One caught my eye. "How about this. 'Seeking responsible young adult for afternoons in sales at'... crap, no, they only sell makeup there. Last thing people want is to see my acne-covered face tryin' to sell them foundation."

Justin and I sat in silence for a while, reading over the stack of papers and cruising the various want ads. It wasn't long before we were done with the entire stack, and I still hadn't found a job worth picking up that wouldn't interfere with either my classes or the job I already had at the game store down the street.

Justin flopped backwards on his bed with his arms behind his head. "I dunno, dude. I guess there's always medical experimentation."

"Hyeah, like we haven't heard enough horror stories about THAT."

---

"Welcome, sir, are you here for the experiment?"

I nodded my head, and took the paperwork she handed me without a word.

It had been two weeks, and while I had managed through some creative wrangling and distribution of paperwork to acquire another scholarship that would help me out immensely, it wouldn't be coming in until the beginning of the winter semester. Until then, I still needed that second job, and the only thing I was qualified for that fit into my schedule was the job of medical guinea pig. At the end of the day, Justin and I agreed it was probably worth the risk, so there I was.

I tried to fill the paperwork out as quickly as possible, but kept getting distracted by the large number of incredibly beautiful girls in the office. There must have been at least twelve of them, all with these insane bodies and super-sexy faces, several talking to equally impressive guys. I felt even lower thinking about being an overweight gamer in a room full of characters right out of a soap opera, but didn't let that stop me from checking them out. I made a lot of mistakes on the paperwork doing that, and had to scribble through a lot, which got me a nasty look from the duty nurse when I handed her the sheet, but she said nothing as I returned to my seat.

I was still trying to catch a look up the skirt on the really hot brunette across from me when I heard my name being called from a door at the end of the room, and reluctantly tore my attention away from her to follow the older lady who was waving at me back into the offices.

"I've got to run some tests on you before you see the doctor."

We ran through the normal tests, you know, height, weight, blood pressure, eyes, all that, as well as some more interesting ones, like having me flex my arms and measuring my muscles and flexibility. Then she left me in a quiet little room to wait for the doctor. I was counting the tiles on the sagging ceiling for a fourth time when he finally entered.

"Ah, so you're... Cory, is that right?"

"Cody."

"Ah, sorry. And... you're another college student from CHIC, right?"

I nodded.

"We get a lot of your type in here. Now, you understand that what we're doing here is still medical testing, which means there may be some unexpected side effects."

I nodded again, and tried to keep the exasperated grimace I felt crawling up from showing on my face.

"Sir, I know the risks, but I need the money."

"I understand that, but I can't promise you that you'll have the same results as the other volunteers, so I don't want you to get your hopes up."

"Okay. Can I meet some of the other volunteers before we start, if you don't mind?"

"Normally that's not a good idea, we don't want it to skew the test results any, but in this case you already did, out in the lobby."

"The supermodels?" I asked in disbelief.

The Doctor, Huxtable I think his name was, nodded and laughed. "Yes, the drug has worked quite well for them, hasn't it?"

I was stunned. "What the hell are you giving them."

"The same thing I'll be giving you, if you agree to it."

"Who wouldn't jump at the chance to look like one of those guys?"

"Apparently a lot of people. We've had far more female applicants to this particular experiment than male, so I was especially happy to see you come in today. I think in your case the changes will be quite drastic."

That hurt a bit, but I tried to hide it. "When can we start?"

We had a long discussion about the do's and don't's of medical experimentation, as well as what I would be required to do while helping with it, and I left the doctor that afternoon with a bottle of pills and a five hundred dollar check that was going directly towards my tuition. He had shown me some 'before' and 'after' pics of some of the other members of the experimental group, and it was impressive what these pills could apparently do. He went on about them breaking down the inaccurate or damaged sections of your genetic code or something, and a chemical that restarts puberty so your body develops to its maximum potential, and some more things I didn't understand. All I knew is I had a shot, I had the pills, and I had the money. Pretty soon I should have a hard, super-attractive body that would mean girls would want to go out with me more often, too. Just thinking about the girls in the office, and being able to date someone as hot as them, brought a smile to my face.
---
“Good afternoon ma'am, can I help you?”

The old lady turned to me from the rack of games before her and frowned haughtily. “Yes. I'm looking for a game for my grandson's birthday. Do you have any recommendations?”

I nodded. “What kind of game system does he have?”

“I don't know. I think it's a black one.”

Shit.

That sentiment pretty well summed up how the last few days had gone for me. After the doctor's appointment I felt fine, but the next morning I woke up in a cold sweat and feeling like I had a hangover. Classes were hell, and no matter what I did for the rest of the week I couldn't get it to quit until some time around mid-Friday, when it just stopped. Because of the dizziness and a weird lack of appetite, I could tell just by looking down at myself that I had lost a lot of weight, but I wasn't going to complain about that. It was Saturday and since I had called in sick earlier in the week due to the dizziness, I HAD to show up today. I had trouble keeping my work pants up since I didn't own a belt, and my shirt looked huge on me. Oh, well, if these experimental drugs work like they're supposed to, I'll be needing new clothes at the end of the test anyways, though how I would afford that I had no idea.

Through process of elimination - What color is it, black, does it play cds, yes, how old is it, about five years - we managed to slim our choices down enough that I could make an accurate guess at what he had, and I prayed to god she wouldn't be back. I couldn't help but give her the finger as she left, which made Lindon, the burned-out cashier there that day, grin.

"A tough customer?"

I nodded. "People need to know what they want when they come in here looking for gifts. Is it so hard to know what system to buy for?"

"Well, asking would kinda ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?"

"No more than getting a game for the wrong system would," I grimaced. That had happened to me once, when I was little, and I had been so excited thinking I would get the system too only to be crushed to find out Uncle Lenny didn't know the difference between Sega and Nintendo.

"True," Lindon agreed slowly, and with a look of concern asked me, "hey, man, you alright? You've been kinda shaky today, and you're pretty sickly lookin'." Then, in a whisper, "You ain't jonesin', are ya? 'Cause if you are, I can hook you up with some-"

"NO!" I butted in. "No, dude, but thanks. I'm doin' a drug test - not THAT kind of drug, Lindon - for the medical place downtown, and it hasn't been agreeing with me too well."

"Dude, that's rough. If you change your mind, though, I got a friend who can get you the good shit."

"Uh, Thanks, Lindon," I said, not adding that if 'the good shit' resulted in me still working in a game store when I was thirty-seven like him, and I wasn't the manager at least, I'd stick to the old 'just say no' mantra.

The next day I was feeling a lot better, and by Monday I was actually feeling pretty good. My next appointment with Dr. Huxtable wasn't for another week, and I was really hoping to see some changes that could be attributed to the drugs by then. My weight loss I was pretty sure was all thanks to how sick I had been feeling, but besides that I hadn't noticed any major changes to my appearance, and I was pretty sure that my weight would appear again in no time, with how much my appetite had picked up.

The time for my second visit rolled around, and by then I was feeling really good, great even. I felt like I had more energy, and my acne had began to clear up, a blessing in itself since my mom still had acne when she was well into her forties, and I had taken after her in that regard. I was still the ugly duckling in the waiting room, sitting on the outside and watching the sex gods and goddesses who were further along in the program flirting and talking, but at least I didn't feel as bad as I had the last time I had been there.

At least, not until I entered the doctor's office. Dr. Huxtable took one look at me, and began to frown.

"Have you noticed ANY changes?"

"Well, um, I felt really bad that first week after you gave me the shot and I started the pills, and I lost a bunch of weight 'cause I couldn't eat, but then I got feeling better, and I haven't put the weight back on."

"Anything else?"

"My acne's a bit better?" I added hopefully.

"No, no, NO. You should be further along than this. The nanobots-"

"WAIDDAMINUTE! Nanobots? Since when did we go all freaky-deaky sci fi here?"

The doctor didn't seem amused, but then again, I wasn't either. "You agreed to the experimental procedures when you signed the paperwork, Mr. West. Trust me, they're perfectly safe, we know what we're doing."

"Yeah, so did Wesley Crusher."

"What?"

"Nothing. So, explain this to me... HOW did you make these things?" I know, I should have been more worried, but my inner Trekkie and all around future tech junkie had to know.

The doctor still looked like he was about ready to shit pricks over how little I had changed, but calmed down a bit and tried to explain. "It isn't the same as what you've seen in movies and books. They're actually genetically engineered virii that we've found a way to force into playing host to additional genetically engineered bacteria and other microorganisms. We mix them with a blood sample of yours prior to injection, and they adopt your DNA into their makeup, that way when we do inject them into you they will affect you and only you, with no risk of spreading to others even through sexual contact. We built off the most stable virii and bacterial agents we could find, so they have an incredible life span when within you, but have a low likelihood of mutating, and will quickly die out if transferred into another person."

Oh-kay, I've read enough Crighton and other sci-fi for that to make some sense. "But how does that make me 'better, stronger, faster' and all that?"

"Well," the doctor huffed, "at the core of it's being it's still a virus. We simply tell it what cells and chemicals in your body to attack, and engineer it to only attack them if certain key elements are present or conditions met using the bacteria we have infected the virii with. I think. Something like that. The point is, the virus will eat anything that doesn't fit what we want in your body, and produce elements that help create the body we want; in this case, we're going for perfecting your own genetic code, so you should be showing the absolute best your family's genetic makeup is capable of producing. By now, there should have been SOME muscle gain, or an increase in body mass, but instead, nothing."

"Sorry for disappointing you, Doc, but apparently your little nanobots don't work on me like the others."

He nodded, "Obviously, not. Are you still going for the experiment?"

I shrugged, "Sure." I still needed the money, and if I already had the damn things in me, what could I do?

"In that case, I'm gonna give you a booster shot of some more nanobots. Virusbots. Whatever you want to call them."

I thought about what he was saying for a moment. I had agreed to a drug trial, that's it, and this was obviously something more, WAY more. BUT, there was the idea of being able to look like those guys out in the front office, or being able to get one of those girls. I mean, that brunette was here again, and if anything she was even MORE stacked this time.

I raised myself up off the bed and turned around, lowering my pants. "Ready whenever you are, Doc."
---
"No shit?"

"Nope. That's what he said."

"Whoa. And you let them put MORE of those things in you?" John asked me. Being the better prepared of the two of us, he had acquired enough scholarships to pay all of his tuition, so he didn't have to work if he didn't want to. And he didn't.

He was already in our room when I returned, so I wasted no time telling him about what the doctor had told me. He was quick to start in about how science wasn't ready to be trying stuff like that yet, as well as a lot of other arguments trying to prove what I was saying wrong, but in the end gave up. Neither of us knew enough about viruses and bacteria to be sure whether or not they could actually do what the doctor told me these would, but I was willing to give it a chance. I had another bottle of the puberty-boosting pills too, which I now knew also had a chemical in them that the viruses and bacteria needed to survive, so if I did decide to stop the test all I had to do was stop the pills, and all the nanobot things would die, after which the changes would stop.

"I dunno, man, I think they should have told you something like this before the test. I mean, this is a lot more than just some pills that pump up your testosterone or something."

"I know, but..." I was getting frustrated trying to get him to understand. "I really wanna see this through. You didn't see the people in the doctor's office, the girls were super hot, and the guys looked like everything I've always wanted to be."

"What's wrong with what you look like now?" John asked me, like it wasn't obvious.

I gave him a disbelieving look. "You're kidding, right? I'm fat, I've got bad skin, and no muscles whatsoever."

"I just don't think you should be trying to change your body like that. If you wanna get more fit, you could start running with me every morning, and stop eating all the crap you're always shoveling down while playing your games." He reached over to the top drawer of my desk and pulled out one of the bags of chips I had stuffed in there. "How many of these do you go through a week? Four? Five? You don't need some miracle robots, Cody, you just need to prioritize a little."

He still didn't understand, did he? "I eat a lot because I hate myself and it makes me feel better. I don't have the energy to exercise because I'm depressed all the time. Dammit, don't you think I've tried? I always get so frustrated having to wait on results, it just doesn't work for me!"

"But-"

"NO! No 'but's,' I am TIRED of looking around and seeing people ignore me and snub me because of how I look!" I was also tired of trying to explain, and he still wasn't getting it, so I turned around again and left a stunned Justin sitting at his desk while I headed out to walk around campus.

What was so hard for him to understand? I fought my frustration as I walked a circuit around the campus, trying to ignore the chill that was already starting to set in the air even though October had barely begun. Why shouldn't I take this chance to better myself? Whatever he said, he just didn't get that things didn't work the same for me as they did for him.

Or could they? I was walking the same route he took every morning for his run. Why didn't I join him?

Because, I reminded myself with a snide chuckle, there was no way in hell, even in my currently improved fitness, that I could ever keep up with him. I might be able to make it half a lap around before I would be wheezing and straining just to stand up.

That's why I needed the experiment. Once it was over, I could start working out with him, no questions asked. I smiled as I thought that maybe, I would even be better than him! That would show him! See who looks better in the jogging shorts THEN.

---

-----
-----
Sitting In

-----

"Excuse me."

"Yes?" I said, as I felt the hand that had touched my shoulder gently turn me around.

"That's the men's room, miss."

I sighed. "I know," I said as I rocked Anthony gently, hoping to calm him down. He needed changing, and I was tired of being stopped like this every time I tried. "I am a guy."

The security officer started to laugh, until he saw the serious look on my face. Without a word I handed him my ID: Clarence Daniel Hartman, Male. "Well, then. Ah, sorry for bothering you."

I nodded, and pushed my way into the restroom, making a bee line for the changing table.

I should be used to the comments. After all, how many teenage guys do you know who do babysitting? Okay, so there are a few, but they're few and far between compared to the number of girls who do it, and my appearance doesn't exactly scream He-Man. What can I say? Fine features run in my family on both sides, as does my skinny build.

"There," I said as I stuck the last tab on Anthony's diaper, "that's better, huh?"

He gurgled happily in reply before making a face that long experience had told me meant another diaper was in order.

"Aww, Tony," I whined, but did my doodie duty, as it were, and with that finished -- and another diaper in place, hopefully for longer this time -- I packed up my baby supplies, ready to head back out into the mall.

While washing my hands on the way out, though, I took a long look at myself in the mirror. My baggy button-down shirt, one of my dad's old ones and a good two sizes too big for me, hung half way down my thighs, the sleeves rolled up several times but still hanging past my elbows. My hair was pulled back behind my ears and mostly tucked under my baseball cap, but some of it had fallen out, covering part of my face. With a snort I took off my cap and pushed it all back again, telling myself that some time soon I needed to get it cut, since it was almost long enough to pull into a ponytail. Another snort, this time for the too-androgynous image before me, and I made my way for the food court, where I was supposed to meet two of my friends for lunch.

Well, to be honest, "friends" might have been pushing it a bit. Lauren and Erin both lived in my neighborhood, and between the three of us we split most of the babysitting jobs for a few blocks around. We had started hanging out mostly due to having the babysitting in common, but I always felt a little out of place with them, like there was something they didn't want to share with me because I was a boy. Despite that, though, they were almost my only contact with kids my own age outside of school, since my appearance and occupation made me somewhat of a pariah among the guys.

"It's about time," Lauren said, grinning at me as I slid into the booth next to her. "What kept you so long."

"Security didn't wanna let me in the restroom," I told her without looking at her face.

"Again?" Erin asked, her voice breaking into a squeak near the end like it tended to do when she was surprised.

Lauren laughed. "Well, can you really blame him? If I saw you walking into the boy's room I'd stop you too."

"Come on, don't rub it in."

"I'm not, I'm just saying you're not doing yourself any favors with the way you dress. I mean, most girls in our class wouldn't be caught dead wearing that outside the house, but it's not that different from the clothes I wear when I feel like being a little slobbish."

I looked at Lauren in her peasant top and jeans, and for the life of me I couldn't recall ever seeing her in anything remotely "slobbish." Erin was a bit more casual in her style, hardly ever wearing anything other than her hoodie and cargo pants, but even those were always clean and presentable.

"Well," I said, "it's not like I have a lot of choice, is it? My mom and dad can't afford to buy me a lot of clothes, so I gotta make do with what I've got."

"What about your babysitting money?"

"What?" I laughed. "I'm not gonna spend my money on clothes if I don't have to! I've got better things to spend it on."

"Like anime," Erin said, pointing with her fork at the FYE bag sitting at my feet.

"And greasy food," Lauren added, staring at my chicken nuggets and fries in disgust.

"Well, not all of us can be vegans like you."

"Not on your life," Erin agreed before taking a bite of her own greaseburger and moaning in pleasure.

"Ugh, you two are disgusting," Lauren said before closing her eyes and digging into her salad.

"So, watching Little Tony today?"

I nodded, sharing one of my nuggets with the small boy, who gummed it happily while I dug into the rest. "Yeah, his mom and dad are visiting some relative in the hospital and didn't want him around all the sick people since he's just gotten over that ear infection."

"Ooh, yeah, not a good idea." Erin lightly rocked the child in the carrier next to her, who was fast asleep despite the noise of the room. "I've got Carly 'cause Aunt Rachel didn't feel up to it." We all three commiserated over the horrors of having to work for family for free, even though Lauren and I both knew that Erin would spend every day with Carly if she could.

That was probably the real reason our little group stayed together. Even with our differences, we all shared one common feature -- we all loved taking care of the children we watched. Lauren and Erin were the only two who I had ever admitted it to, but it was a long held secret of mine that I found babysitting more fun than any video game or sport. Even having to change diapers and all the other gross jobs associated with their care weren't enough to change that.

I was looking down at Anthony, rocking him gently in my arms as he too succumbed to sleep, when I heard Lauren say quietly, "You look so pretty when you're doing that."

"He does, doesn't he?"

"Huh?"

The two girls laughed softly, trying to be quiet so as not to wake the babies. Lauren had an odd look on her face though, as she stared at me and Anthony.

"I think I've got an idea."

Uh oh.

"What?" I asked, afraid to know but more afraid of not knowing.

"A bet," she said, with a grin.

"What stakes?"

"New clothes for you. If you win, we'll buy them with our next babysitting weeks, whatever clothes you want. But if WE win, you have to spend your next two weeks on them, and we get to pick."

I shook my head. "No deal." We all three had agreed some time before on a single rate we all charged our customers, and on average our weekly totals usually added up to about a hundred dollars each. There was no way I was going to agree to spending that much money on something I didn't think I needed, especially when I already had plans for it. On the other hand, though, I didn't want to make the girls mad by completely refusing, so I decided to bargain them down. "How about half of each week? And half of a week from each of you?" That would still give me plenty of money for what I wanted, I just wouldn't be saving any back.

Lauren looked at Erin, who grinned and nodded. "Deal."

We all shook on it. "So what's the bet?"

Lauren gave me an evil look, and I started regretting the bet immediately.

-----

"I can't believe I agreed to this."

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun!"

"It'll be embarrassing."

"Only if you get caught."

I snorted. "Like I won't?"

"We'll see."

The three of us were standing in line, waiting to sign up for one of the many summer classes being offered by the local community college. The classes were two-week courses available to anyone who wanted to sign up and could afford the fee, but since we went to the local high school we could take any of them we wanted for free on the basis that if we were willing to continue our educations during our summer break we should be compensated in some way.

"Can I help you ladies?"

Lauren and Erin giggled, while I just stood back and watched, fighting the blush that fought to rise in my cheeks.

"Yes," Lauren said, stepping toward the girl at the sign-in desk, "we'd like to sign up for the child care class?"

The girl looked at the list in front of her and smiled. "You're in luck! There's room for three more in Miss Anderson's class on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Will that work for the three of you?"

"That sounds perfect!"

"Then if you'll just sign in right here, and show me your student IDs we can get you going."

Lauren and Erin looked at each other worriedly, enacting the next stage of their plan. "Um, the two of us have our IDs, but Claire," they said, pointing at me, "just moved here and doesn't have one yet."

The girl gave them another radiant smile and nodded. "Well I'll make an exception for her this time then since she's obviously with the two of you. She doesn't say much, does she?"

"She's a little shy, but we're hoping to change that."

"Well, good luck with that! I used to be a wallflower myself, and now look at me!" The girls signed the sheet of paper, then beckoned me up to sign beneath them. I bit my tongue as I concentrated on signing my name as "Claire Danielle Hartman" as cleanly as possible.

"Thank you. See you Monday!"

"See you Monday," Lauren called, elbowing me.

"Ow! Monday," I said too, waving to the college student, who waved back with a wink. "I still can't believe I let you two talk me into this."

"You'll enjoy it, trust me," Erin said confidently.

I'd known I should have declined the bet the instant they laid out the terms, but at the time I had thought I had a chance. Now, I wasn't so sure.

The bet? I had to attend the course for two weeks without anyone twigging to my being a guy. A course that would mostly be filled with kids from my own school or other locals.

I was so dead.

"Don't worry so much, you don't look all that much like yourself right now, and if anyone asks you're a cousin visiting for the summer," Lauren said, seeing my nervousness.

"And what if they ask why I'm never seen with myself? Or why I'm always with you two? We're kind of a recognizable group."

She stopped for a moment in thought. "We'll work something out."

Yeah, right, I didn't say. "I still don't feel comfortable," I did.

"Try taking shorter steps."

I glared at her.

Part of the agreement concerning the class was that I would dress the part, so to speak, wearing whatever Lauren and Erin could find for me that made me pass as sufficiently girly to them. The end result had been that my big sister was in the loop now too, and had given the pair of them permission to raid her closet for clothes for me while she was away discovering America or whatever it was she was doing with her friends this summer. Her clothes were a little loose on me in a few key areas, but the girls told me that would be fine for the moment since my sister had almost the same build as I did, just with a few minor curves I didn't have that could be faked if it was really needed.

That was why I found myself wearing a pair of her jean shorts with another one of my dad's baggy flannel shirts on top of a spaghetti strap tank, my hair brushed out and shaped with gel into what Erin said was a flip or something like that. I had even agreed to shaving my legs to improve the illusion, though I had drawn the line at wearing my sister's underwear. There were just some boundaries you didn't cross, even if my boxers were bunched uncomfortably in the loose hips of the shorts to keep them from hanging out.

Erin looked at Lauren and I. "What do you two have planned for the day?"

Lauren shrugged. "Nothing much."

I grimaced. "Going home to change."

"Oh, come on, you look cute!"

I looked down at myself in the short-shorts that didn't even peek below the hem of the shirt. "These shorts aren't the most comfortable, you know."

"That's just 'cause of your underwear, we can fix that easily you know."

"I already told you I'm not wearing my sister's."

"What about some guy's bikinis then?"

I thought about it. "Would it make that big a difference?" They looked at me like I was an idiot. "Sheesh, alright then!"

Lauren smiled at me, rubbing my shoulder. "Tell ya what, I'll even pay for them. If you win, we'll take it out of what we owe you in clothes, if we win, you'll pay us back for them, okay?"

"Dammit. Fine. Can I still go home and change out of these first?"

"Nope!" Erin said with a giggle that disappeared quickly when she saw my frown. "Alright, if you really want to, but we don't mind and I doubt anyone else will notice. Heck, I'll drive us to a store out of town it would make you feel better about it. Please?"

I sighed again. I found myself doing that a lot lately. "Alright, fine. Can we just hurry? I'm starting to chafe in these things."

"Eww, gross!"

"Off to underwear!" Lauren cried triumphantly, drawing stares from the people around us.

-----

True to her word, Erin drove the extra hour to a shopping center in another school district, alleviating at least some of my fears of getting caught. Unfortunately, none of us expected a different problem we encountered.

"Umm, Claire?"

I wanted to complain about the name, but thinking about my appearance was enough to stop it. "Yes?"

"I don't think any of these will be small enough to fit you."

"Oh you've got to be kidding me."

Between us we searched high and low, looking for the missing underwear, only to find that Lauren was right -- the store was completely out of my size in the men's bikinis.

"Alright," I said, hoping for a more amenable answer, "what about some plain tightie whities?"

"Eww, no way! NOBODY looks good in those," Erin said, sneering.

"Well, we're not buying them to look good."

"Nuh uh, no way," Lauren shook her head, fists on her hips. "If I'm buying them then they're gonna look good. We'll just have to check the girls' section."

I stopped. "I'm sorry?"

"Well you're not big enough for the women's section. Juniors maybe. Jeez, your family is built small!"

"We're not small. We're just... compact."

"Gotcha."

"And I don't think I wanna wear girl's underwear."

"Why not?"

I stared at her. "Because it's girl's underwear."

Erin rolled her eyes, giving me a light punch in the shoulder. "It's not like we're asking you to wear anything fancy. Heck, if we're going with girl's stuff we can get you regular briefs and be fine."

"But. It's GIRL'S. UNDERWEAR."

Lauren looked at me like I was being an idiot. "You're wearing a cami top and a pair of girl's jean shorts with hearts on the pockets. I don't think panties are gonna make a big difference in people's perception of you."

I wanted to argue, but couldn't. "What if I buy them?"

Lauren and Erin looked at each other, then as one pouted at me.

"Oh, come on, that's not fair!"

A single tear rolled down Erin's cheek.

"...alright."

"YES!"

"The tear works every time," Erin said, wiping her face then giving me a light hug. "Come on."

I was shocked. We had been hanging out for a while, but this was the first time either of the girls had ever hugged me or anything. Come to think of it, they had been a lot friendlier the last couple of days since the bet was made.

"What's wrong?" Lauren asked, when she saw that I wasn't moving.

I shook my head. "Nothing," I said, then followed them to the juniors section of the store.

A short while later I found myself walking out of the store, my boxers and four-fifths a pack of underwear in the bag in my hand.

"So, any better?"

"I dunno yet. Maybe?"

"Six dollars and it's just a 'maybe?'"

I glared at her. "Well, considering I don't normally wear panties--"

"Ugh! Hussy!" An old woman walking near us exclaimed, looking at me in shock before scurrying away.

I looked around, embarrassed. "Uhm... oops?"

Lauren and Erin started laughing, and soon I couldn't help but join in.

-----

Dinner with my parents that night was interesting, to say the least.

"So what's this I hear about you borrowing your sister's clothes?"

"What?" I asked nervously, seeing the smile on my mom's face.

"She called me and said a couple of girls had asked her if you could borrow some of her things?"

My dad glared at me across his peas. "What's this about?"

I bowed my head, defeated. "It's like this..."

I described the bet to my parents, leaving out the part about the girl's underwear but including everything else I could think of. When I finished, my mom was giving me that same enigmatic smile while my dad sat staring at me, expressionless.

I looked between the two of them, hoping for some kind of sign that they would object. Instead, my dad's mask of composure finally cracked, and he began to cackle uncontrollably, tears running down his face. My mom joined in shortly, and I simply sat there confused as they basked in their mirth.

When Dad finally calmed down, he said in between breaths, "You realize, of course, that if they win, they're going to be buying you girls' clothes anyhow." My eyes grew wide as the truth of what he had said dawned on me, only to be emphasized my Mom's emphatic nodding.

"You won't let them, right?" I asked, almost begged, my parents.

Dad shook his head. "You know we've always tried to let you and your sister make your own mistakes. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time the guys in our family have ended up dressed as girls."

"Huh?"

Mom giggled. "I made a similar bet with your dad in college. I'm almost ashamed to say he looked better in my clothes than I did!"

"Oh, please tell me you're kidding..."

"Nope!" My dad said with a grin. "That's why your Uncle Simon calls me 'twinkle toes.' He's never really handled our little game well."

"That's because he can't get over the embarrassment of asking you out."

"Well, I told him I was taken."

"Yes you are." Mom leaned over and gave my dad a kiss on the cheek, making him blush. Hey, I come by it naturally!

"So what you're saying is that if they want to put me in girl's clothes, you're going to LET them?"

Dad shrugged, going back to his food with gusto, while Mom nodded.

"I'm doomed."

I finished my dinner and made my way to my room after a quick "goodnight" to my parents, but had barely finished changing when there was a knock at my door.

"Come in."

At my answer Mom came into the room, smiling at me again. This time, though, it was her Mom-smile that told me we were about to talk about something important.

"Clarence, honey, can we talk?"

"Sure, Mom," I said, sitting down on my bed. She settled in next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.

"Do you really want us to tell the girls 'no' on this for you?"

"You would do that for me?"

She nodded. "We want you to learn from your actions, but we're still your parents. If you think you're in over your head, we'll always be there to help. I'd hope you knew that."

I gave her a hug. "I know, Mom. And thanks."

She hugged me back. "So do you want our help?"

I paused. "I... I don't know. Were you and Dad serious? About what you did in college?"

She laughed. "Yes, AND about my brother." She looked at me seriously for a moment, though I could still see the humor in her eyes. "Can I share a secret with you?"

"What?"

She leaned down next to me, and whispered into my ear, "we still go out together like that sometimes."

I jumped back in shock, staring into my mom's eyes. "Really?"

"Yup! Your dad's a very special man. And so are you," she said, leaning forward and kissing me on the forehead.

I thought about what she had said. My dad dressed as a girl sometimes?

I thought and thought, and finally came to a decision.

"Mom?"

"Yes honey?"

"I, well, I think I wanna go through with it?"

She gave me another gentle squeeze. "Are you sure?"

I shook my head. "No. I get picked on sometimes because of how small I am already, and if this gets out it will only get worse. But the girls are the best friends I have, so I don't think they'd do anything to try and hurt me?"

Mom nodded. "I asked your sister, and she got that impression as well, though I'll still be talking to them about what they plan on doing before I let you go through with this."

"Mom, I'm almost seventeen. I think I can handle telling them 'no' if it gets to be too much for me."

"Positive?"

"Yes!" She gave me the Mom-stare. "...Okay, not really. They're girls! Girls are tricksy."

She laughed again, ruffling my hair. "Tricksy, are we?"

"Erin can cry on demand."

Mom scowled. "Sorry, but I'll definitely be having a talk with them before this goes further."

"Mom!"

"Clarence!"

I sighed. "Alright Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie. Now get some sleep," she said, standing up. "Miss Olivera called earlier and wants you to watch Candace tomorrow."

"'Kay," I said, covering myself up as she turned off the lights and left the room.

-----

The Oliveras were a nice enough family. Mr. And Mrs. Olivera both worked for one of the local country music radio stations, and Candace was their only child. She was ten years old, and though she was old enough not to need a babysitter any more, I wasn't about to give up the money if I didn't have to, and since I would play with her when she wanted and leave her alone otherwise she wasn't too bothered by the arrangement, though we both agreed that if they still wanted her to have a babysitter when she turned twelve we would sit them down and have a talk with them.

"Hey Candace."

"Hi Clarence," she said, turning back to her video game as I sat down on the couch and watched her play.

"Whatcha playing?"

"Go Go Super Animal Prince Kyashi," she said, like that was any kind of explanation.

"Ah."

"You wanna play?"

"No thanks," I said, watching her bounce some kind fo half-human half-cat thing around the screen while other characters spouted seemingly random japanese phrases. I closed my eyes, but the colors continued to swim before them. Some games were just too weird for me to enjoy. "Have fun, though," I told her, but by then she was already absorbed into her game again.

-----
-----

Living the Life of a Heroine

=+=

I remember thinking I was the luckiest guy in the world when I first found the ad. Isn't it every game geek's dream to work for a software company? I mean, sure, I'd never heard of 'em before, and it wasn't the most prestigious of jobs, but still- working in the game industry had been my dream for as long as I could remember. So, I wrote down the number, and I called in and set up an interview.

I was so nervous that first day. They had me sitting in an office with probably a dozen other guys, all trying out for the same job I was. Some of them big and muscular, some of them big and... well, obviously geeks. Most of us were somewhat tall, so at least I wasn't entirely out of my element, I remember thinking, though as the two hours of interviews passed the thought crossed my mind more than once that I didn't stand a chance in hell of getting the job. Here I was, a tall, geeky lookin' guy with a week's worth of beard stubble and a suit from Penney's making up my attempt at looking professional and attractive for today's interview. I heard them call "Ren Harris" on the intercom- that's me- so I got up and tried smoothing my jacket and wrinkled button-down shirt as best I could before heading down the hallway for the door at the end. They had it set up so that we would enter on one side and exit on the other, so that those who were still waiting wouldn't get a chance to see or talk to anyone who had gone before. As a result, I still had no idea what they were looking for, I just knew I wasn't it.

The ad had been almost stupefyingly simple. It was nothing more than a small text block in that week's paper, 'New game company seeking hard working individual for mascot. Must be reliable, social, and love games.' They'd also included the name of their company- Sabretooth Games- along with the address and phone number. Workin' for the pizza place just was barely covering the rent, so I figured 'what the hell' and called 'em. So there I was, wondering just exactly how embarrassed I would be when they saw me and instantly called out 'next' despite me being the last interview left.

"Stand straight and walk down the middle of the room towards the table," I heard a scratchy male voice coming from the other end of the room. Looking up, I saw a long table with five people sitting at it, slightly in the shadows so I couldn't make out what they really looked like. I started walking towards the table like I had been told. About half way there, the voice chimed in again. "Raise your arms out to the side and turn around twice. Slowly."

What kind of interview was this? I was feeling pretty stupid, standing there spinning like a little kid, especially with knowing I wasn't gonna get the job. What can I say, I have a bad habit of smarting off when I'm in a bad mood. "Would you like me to do a pirouette too, or is that good enough."

The light chuckle was unexpected. "That's good enough. How tall are you, son?"

"Uh, I'm not really sure." I scratched my chin trying to remember what the doctor had said last time I'd seen one. "I think six two, maybe six three."

"Hmm. And do you know how big around your waist is?"

What the hell? "Well, I wear a size thirty two jeans." I could see the figures in the shadows twisting around and leaning towards one another, and I could hear them talking quietly, though I did manage to make out the word 'stick'. Not like it was anything new, of course, or unexpected- I worked hard not to be the fat kind of geek, though delivering pizzas didn't help. I couldn't help it, my mouth got the better of me again. "Listen, I know I'm probably not what you were looking for, so let's cut the crap. Which one of the other guys do you want me to send back in when I go out?"

I heard that laugh again, and I really wanted to smack the person behind it. "Oh, I don't think you need to send anybody back in, though if you can't control that mouth we might change our minds, mister... Harris, is it?"

I was a bit shocked, to say the least. "Ah, call me Ren. You mean I got the job?"

"Well, you're about what we were looking for as far as height goes, and if you can keep your mouth in check and channel some of that attitude into hard work I think we could work together. It says here that... you have no previous experience in modeling. Why did you apply for this job, Mister- sorry, Ren. If I may say so, you don't seem too thrilled to be here."

I shrugged. "Sorry 'bout that, I just figured I didn't stand a chance after seeing the other guys and got kinda pissed about it."

"Not every job in entertainment calls for a body builder, Mister Harris."

"Uh, yeah. As for why I applied? Well, I like games."

There was a long pause before anyone replied. "Is that it?"

"Y-yeah," I nodded. "That's about it."

That damned chuckle again. "Well okay then. Mister Harris, I was very impressed today, and I think we might be able to work well together. However, we do have another two days of interviews for the job before we make our final decision. I promise you, though, as soon as we have our decision we will give you a call, one way or the other. Be expecting us to contact you in a few days, sir."

A creak to my left drew my eyes to where a square of light had appeared on the wall, with a flashing 'exit' sign above it. The sarcastic "I guess I'm excused then," escaped my lips before I could stop it, and without waiting for an answer I made my way out the door.

=+=

The next couple of days after that were not what I would call my best. I was nervous, irritable, and constantly checking my phone for new messages, just in case, you know, I missed the call in the five minutes since the last time I had checked. By the middle of the third day after the interview, I had calmed down a lot- if they called, they called. By the end of the fifth day, I had reached the assumption that I hadn't got the job, and they had been lying when they said they were gonna call. What had ever possessed me to think they might actually call me? I was twenty four, living in a rathole in a bad part of town, and I delivered pizzas. That was my lot in life, and I had best accept it.

It was a week after the interview that I got the call. I had been cruising the mall looking for Bruce Campbell memorabilia- nothing says good decorating sense like a Bubba Ho-Tep poster over your mantelpiece- when out of nowhere the Firefly theme came on. 'Oh, right, cell phone.' I pulled my phone out, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the caller ID tag 'saber games'. Could they really be calling me back? I fumbled for a moment getting the phone open, hoping against hope my voice wasn't shaking when I said, "Hello?"

Fran Drescher answered, "Yeah, is this Mista Ren Harris?"

I nodded, then remembered I was on the phone. "Yeah- I mean, yes, this is me, er, him. He. I'm Ren."

"Hi, Mista Harris, I'm Laurie, with Sabatooth Games. I was told to let ya know we need you to come in to tha studio tomarra to talk to Mista Wesley about tha mascot job." I felt more than heard the sound of a nail file on the other end of the phone, and fought my instinct to cringe. "He's expecting ya at eleven in tha moaning, do ya need tha address?"

"Uh... yeah, hold on." I scrabbled madly in my pocket for something to write with and on, pulling out my grocery list and flipping to the back. "'Kay, shoot." I carefully took down the address she gave me as well as the time and office number. "Thanks, I'll see ya tomarra- er, tomorrow."

"Yeah, shua. See ya then." The line clicked off, but I kept the phone on my ear for at least a minute after, still trying to sort out what had just happened.

And so the next day I found myself sitting in a parking lot in one of the less industrial sections of the industrial district, trying to remember how the hell the knot on a tie works before giving up and taking it off. I had even taken the opportunity to shave this time, only cutting myself once. Straightening my suit one last time and checking my watch- ten to eleven- I opened the door and stood up. After only minor cursing, I managed to unlatch my seatbelt, and gave standing up another and far more successful shot.

The building wasn't much to look at, being your typical cinderblock two storey building with the big glass windows that don't open and a badly done hand painted sign over the double doors out front that read 'Sabretooth Games' in a weird pointy script. Just inside the doors was a cheap metal desk, with a woman with frizzy blonde hair sitting behind it typing on a keyboard.

I approached the desk and coughed lightly, trying to get her attention. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to work, so I ended up resorting to being a bit more pushy. "Hey, uh, Miss Warner? I'm here to see a Mister Wesley about a job?"

"Huh? Oh! Ah you Ren?" I nodded. "Hi!"

"Um... hi?"

"Oh, fahgive me, I'm Laurie Wahnah, the secretary you talked to yestaday." She held out her manicured hand to me to shake, so not knowing what else to do, I did. "Call me Laurie."

"Okay, Laurie. So, is he here?"

The smile never left her face. "Who?"

"Mr. Wesley?"

"Oh, yeah, right through thea, go on ahead." She pointed to a door to her right, then went back to her computer work like I wasn't there. I wasn't sure if I trusted that this Laurie girl knew what she was doing- I was vaguely unsure if she even knew where she was working- but decided to ignore that for the moment and went through the door she had pointed to.

Inside, I found a neat little office with a pair of large windows facing out over the industrial park behind it. At the desk across from the door sat a squat, older man with whispy brown hair brushed over a bald spot in a vain attempt to disguise it, yelling into a phone. Sitting across from him was a tall, elegant looking blonde girl with the most beautiful face I had ever seen and a nice set of, ah, 'assets' to boot, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the disdainful scowl she wore as she looked me up and down.

"-if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, we need that project done by the end of next month! No, I can't delay release again, you're already four months behind schedule. Thank you. Good bye," he hung up angrily. When he turned to face the pair of us, though, his expression quickly shifted to a sly businessman's smile. "Now, where was I? Oh, both of you are here I see. Mr. Harris, it's good to see you again. Please, take the seat next to Miss Romaijn, and we can get started."

No longer as sure of what I was doing as I had been, I sat down nervously in the hard plastic chair. "If this is a bad time, sir, I can come back later," I said, glancing at the girl next to me.

"What? Bad time? Nonsense. Now that you're both here, we can begin talking about your assignment."

Both? I looked at the girl next to me again. Would I be working with her? She sneered at me again, leaving me to wonder if looking at her body would be worth putting up with the matching attitude.

Apparently she felt the same way. "Excuse me, but I was told this was a modeling job," she said, her voice conveying her dissatisfaction clearly.

"And so it is," Mr. Wesley said, his own smile never slipping.

"Then what is... THAT, doing here?" She asked, waving her hand at me without looking in my direction.

In an instant Mr. Wesley's smile was gone, replaced by a scowl. "Miss, if you have a problem with who I choose to represent our company then I can assure you, you are not the only model I considered for your part. Mr. Harris, on the other hand, is exactly what we need for the part he is here for. Is that clear?"

Her eyes grew wide as she nodded confirmation that she did indeed understand him. Meanwhile, I just sat there growing more confused by the minute. Did he really just say that I was more important than the bombshell sitting next to me? Talk about your ego boosts!

After a few moments of silence, he managed to force his businessman smile back on. "As I was saying, I couldn't be happier to have the two of you here. Tell me, do either of you follow developments in the video game industry?"

"No," the apparent Ms. Romaijn said quietly.

"Do you, Mr. Harris?"

I shook my head. "Not a lot. I mean, I play a lot of games, but I usually don't have the cash to buy them when they're new, so I don't get my hopes up by keeping track of what's coming out."

He nodded his understanding. "Well, with any luck that soon will change. The two of you are here today because we want you to work on the ad campaign for our new game 'Lunar Knight.' Let me tell you a bit about the game..."

With that, he proceeded to give us a rundown of the game's story and characters. The main character, a mercenary named Raven Knight, is hired by a corporation to quell an uprising at one of their moon-based research and production facilities. On arriving, though, she ends up siding with the rebels against the corporation, which has been performing illegal genetic experimentation on many of its own employees. From what he described, the game would essentially be a Metroid ripoff with mutants instead of aliens, right down to the designs he showed us for the main character's armored suit.

"I'm going to be stuck in that thing?" Ms. Romaijn asked, looking at the suit with obvious distaste.

"No, of course not. This will be more like your suit," he said, showing another picture of a woman who looked similar to the model wearing a tight fitting bluish purple jumpsuit of some kind.

"Who's that?"

"It's still Raven, but this is her outside of the combat suit. There will be sections of the game where she's wearing this instead."

"Oh!" The model said, obviously much more impressed with the figure-flattering outfit than with the massive armor.

"And will I be playing one of the mutants?" I asked, my curiousity getting the better of me as I flipped through the various sketches of other characters from the game.

"No, you'll be in the combat suit."

I almost dropped the cardstock in my hands at his words. "I'm sorry, but could you repeat that?"

"You'll be wearing Raven's combat armor," Mr. Wesley said with a grin.

I looked at the picture of the armor laying on his desk. With trembling hands I picked it up and studied it more closely. Despite the dangerous and, admittedly, badass look of the armor, it was obviously shaped to convey the impression of a female figure beneath, and an attractive one at that, right down to the rediculous raised heels on the slender boots.

I almost stood up right then and walked out the door, but something stopped me. Was it curiousity? No, it was greed. "How much are we talking here?" I asked as calmly as I could, laying the pile of pictures I had collected back on his desk.

"Four thousand per event, plus the cost of accomodations and travel fare."

"Accomodations?"

"Well of course. You would be modeling for us at conventions across the country."

"I was told this was commercial and photo work," Ms. Romaijn butted in again, obviously still not pleased with the goings on.

"There will be that as well," Mr. Wesley said, shooting her a look of mild annoyance, "and you would be payed well, in addition to royalties any time we reused your images. It's all outlined in the contract," he said, pulling two stacks of paper out of his desk and handing one to each of us.

I looked over the paperwork carefully, putting all the knowledge I had gained in my half semester at community college to the test trying to detangle the legal mumbo jumbo. I whistled out loud when I got to the part about what we would be paid. It most definitely left my pizza delivery job in the dust, to say the least!

I bit the tip of the pen that had been clipped to the contract as I thought carefully about signing. On the positive side, it was damn good money, and for what, attending gaming conventions and posing for a few pictures? What could be easier? On the other hand, as obscure as it might be I would still be essentially dressing as a girl. In addition to that, I knew enough about costumes to know that the suit would be hot as hell, especially crammed into a convention hall full of people, and uncomfortable to boot. Did I really want to put up with all that trouble?

For that kind of money, yes. I signed the papers and initialled them where needed, handing them back to Mr. Wesley, who was wearing what I was sure had to be the first real smile of the meeting. Shortly afterward, a much more hesitant Ms. Romaijn handed her own contract back.

"Good, I'm glad this all worked out. If the two of you could come in tomorrow, we can get to work on getting you fitted. Oh, and Mr. Harris," he said, stopping me as I had begun to rise from my seat.

"Yes?"

"Bring the attitude next time, it's part of why I picked you."

"Oh. Alright," I said, slightly confused. Wasn't that what had gotten Little Miss Stuck Up in so much trouble?

"Good on ya," he said, slapping my back harder than I would have expected from someone with his build.

I waved goodby to Laurie on my way out, but I don't think she even noticed. What had I gotten myself into?

=+=

Like the game company itself, the photo studio they had chosen to take our photos for the game advertisements was small, located on a street made up mostly of old warehouses and smelling strongly of fish despite not being anywhere near the harbor. Nevertheless, once I mustered up what courage I could and walked through the doors I found myself surprised by the clean and professional look the studio had on the inside.

"You must be Ren," the cute receptionist said as she stood up from her chair and offered me her hand.

"That's me."

"Welcome to our studios, Mr. Harris. Let me show you to the sound stage where you will be working today."

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Welp, that's the end of this episode of "Snippets."
Again, if someone finds one of these appealing to continue, let me know, and depending on the story I might just let it go. This is by no means everything I've got in the works at the moment, though this does clear out quite a bit of backlog, at least as far as getting it aired.
So, pick something and ask for it, or even pick something and bring it up as one you would particularly like to see continued -- or better yet, left as nothing more than a snippet and tossed out.
...Just lemme know, okay?