I thought, not for the first time, that my life’s course looked like a calendared prison sentence as I rode my bike home from my labourer’s job that August afternoon. There I was, a sixteen-year-old boy on the outskirts of Dartford, working to support what was left of my family. While my mother’s benefits, stemming from her spinal cord being severed by a truck with its brakes gone, covered the rent on our three-bedroom flat, her hands trembled too much to grip a wet glass, let alone do work from home.

The lack of relatives in the country meant it was either me or Valerie, my twin sister, who had to stop studying and get working once our father winked out from the same accident. And since Valerie had won a scholarship to a private girl’s school and already worked part-time in the local pharmacy, I drew the short straw and got working once I’d earned my O-levels, abandoning any hope of working in the fitness realm or heaven forbid, a sport of my choice.

Pulling into the block of flats, I locked my bike in the rack and trudged into the furthest ground-floor flat from the street, which our landlady had bent backwards to make accessible for my mother after the accident. In fact, she often tended to my mother while both Valerie and I were out as a courtesy, and today was no exception.

“Mother, Mrs. Sinderby,” I greeted politely with an exhausted nod.

“Malcolm,” Jane Sinderby replied warmly with an understanding smile. “Still going on that same old daily grind?”

“You know it,” I tiredly agreed as I sat down on the couch. “At least I can start learning how to drive once the provisional licence comes in on Friday.”

“That’s good to hear,” my mother chimed in with her permanently strained tone. “Hopefully you won’t need to bike to and from an exhausting job like that for much longer.”

“Thankfully, Ryan was more than happy to offer help when I asked,” I responded back, while running a tissue over my strained brown eyes and sweaty forehead. Ryan Marshall was my foreman, and had known my father before the accident. “It’s just as well he lives close enough to here for our driving plan to work.”

“What about Valerie?”, asked Mrs. Sinderby. “Will she be needing lifts around the place?”

“I doubt it. Valerie’s school and workplace are both on the same route that comes through here,” I pointed out. “Besides, Valerie likely doesn’t have the time to drive anywhere with A-levels and university on the horizon – I’d be happy to lend her my bike if worst comes to worst.”

“Fair enough,” Mrs. Sinderby replied, before a text came to her phone. “That’s my husband telling me he’s picked up our granddaughter. I’d better get the house ready. See you soon enough!”

“Have fun!”, I called out as our landlady left. Turning back into our home, I promptly went to the bathroom and showered off the sweat and dirt from my body, not needing to bother with shampoo since I’d shaved my brown mop into a buzz cut at fourteen. Donning grey track pants and an olive tee, I put my work clothes in the wash, careful to set the machine to the fast cycle before setting it off. It was a sunny day outside, so I left a post-it on the door to remind myself to hang the clothes out.

Without anything to do but wait for Valerie to come back with the weekly shop so I could get cooking, I went into the lounge and sat on one of the two dinette chairs, next to the kitchen as BBC News fired off yet another bulletin. Whenever Mother needed anything from a glass of water to a change of channel, I would be close enough to either her post in the lounge or our poky kitchen to tend to her needs. If she needed to go to the bathroom, her motorised wheelchair was enough – but that sometimes meant that Valerie or I would have to go pick her up off the floor from time to time.

When Valerie did arrive back from work and shopping, she wasn’t alone. She’d come home with Stacey Alderman, a new-age type that Valerie had quickly befriended after that scholarship had been awarded. Despite being considerably mismatched, with Stacey being a svelte slip of a girl with a wavy blonde mop and Valerie sharing my six feet of height and boasting a bushy auburn mane, the pair got on well. While Stacey was a touch too bohemian for my tastes, I didn’t mind her company as a friend.

“Stacey; what brings you here?”, I asked jovially as my sister carried the groceries inside.

“A couple of things, Mal,” she replied in her breezy soprano. “We’ve got some course-picking to do for school when it comes back in, and Valerie wanted some help.”

“Fair enough,” I reasoned.

“Don’t worry about the food; she shouted her own,” Valerie called from the kitchen, holding a pack of pre-made sushi.

“Good to know,” I called back. “And the other thing?”, I asked Stacey.

“That’s a secret between me and her,” Stacey said seriously. I nodded, silently thinking it was some weird faddish thing the two girls were into as I began to prepare a reasonable chicken soup that would be our dinner for the next four nights. Once we’d finished eating it, and feeding Mother with her portion, Stacey volunteered to wash the dishes while I fished my clothes off the line and folded them, with Valerie tending to Mother’s needs as she prepared for sleep.
__________________________________________________________________________________

When Mother had finally gone to bed, Stacey and Valerie both motioned for me to come to the lounge. I set my phone on the bedside and had the alarm for the 5:30 am starts I was still getting used to, before walking over.

“I’ve got maybe half-an-hour to spare before I need to go to sleep. Please, make it quick.”

“I’ll summarise quickly,” Stacey averred, before pulling out a book. Bound in leather that looked almost pink, it seemed to be an A5 journal, complete with attached pencil.

“We were out shopping today, as you know, and we both spotted this strange shop neither of us had seen before in the mall. Spells R Us, I think it was called?”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at that.

“Anyway, we decided to take a peek into the place. It looked like a weird cross between an antiques shop and a jewellery store, kind of knick-knacky. Anyway, the old guy behind the counter sold us this journal for two quid. Considering I needed a new one for drawing, I decided to buy it.”

“Right, and is that all that happened?”

“Actually, no. Look at this,” Valerie interjected, pointing at the book as Stacey opened it. Inside the front cover was a printed note, with some lines beneath it.

“Thank you for purchasing the Wishing Book from Spells R Us, granting you a one-off wish or list of them. Simply write them down in the space provided below with the pen attached to the book. Before you do, here are three simple rules to guide your use of this product:

1. Only those present to witness the inscription of the wish will remember the old reality.

2. All wishes are irrevocable.

3. You cannot revive the dead.

Have fun, and good luck with your wishes!”

“Whoever did this went all out, huh,” I muttered as Stacey held the pen.

“I’m not sure if it will work or not,” Valerie continued, “but the shop vanished into thin air as soon as we left the place. We spent a solid half an hour looking for it again, actually.”

“You expect me to buy that?”, I deadpanned.

“Maybe not, but it wouldn’t be harmful to write a wish in there for the sentiment of it all,” Stacey pointed out. “What would you write down, anyway?”

“You’re asking me?”, I replied. “Well, the bloody obvious would be that wishing that my mother wasn’t crippled. That way, I could still go to school instead of destroying my future to fuel Valerie’s.”

“That wasn’t very kind, Malcolm,” Stacey snapped back with some vehemence.

“It’s alright, Stacey,” Valerie interrupted. “Mal and I would both have given up school if our mother hadn’t forced me to keep going to school and get into engineering. He doesn’t hate me for it, and I lighten his load when I can.”

“Yeah, and Val would’ve done the same if I’d had a scholarship instead of her too,” I added. “But you’re not at fault for looking out for my sister,” I quickly added.

“Understood,” Stacey rallied, mollified at my response. “And what of you, Valerie?”

“I’d wish for the same, but also to be closer to Mal as well. I’ve actually missed having you in school with me ever since the scholarship kicked in.”

“I’m flattered, Val,” I replied earnestly. “Though I’m sure I’d rock those dresses better than you,” I added sarcastically.

“You dick,” Valerie chuckled as Stacey smiled, writing down our words. As soon as she’d done that, the book began to shake before spontaneously burning itself to cinders, leaving a mark on the carpet and a deafening silence in the room.

“Not feeling quite so sceptical now, are we?”, Stacey breathed eventually, not expecting it to work despite her new-age leaning.

“… no, not at all,” Valerie muttered as I furiously shook my head.

“I’d better get to bed,” I said. “Will you need a cab home or something?”

“That’ll be fine,” Stacey assured. “I’ll park on the couch to avoid the travel home, if that’s not too imposing?”

“That should be fine, assuming you like having a sore back,” I replied with a smirk.

“No worries; I’ll text my parents.”]

As Valerie set to grabbing sheets and a spare cushion, I trudged back to my room. Shrugging off my clothes, I collapsed in a heap and let the sleep take me, feeling that ever-present craving to be freed of my burden as my eyes shut.
_________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning, I heard Valerie and Stacey laughing in the room next to me, and didn’t notice that my vision was framed by a curtain of hair.

“Mnngh,” I groaned as I got out of bed, and then realised three things. One, this room was far too plush and decorated to be mine. Two, my centre of gravity was way off. And three, my voice wasn’t my own anymore. A quick once over with my hands led me to check the mirror I’d spotted on my door to see if I was still dreaming.

But I wasn’t. Staring back at me was my female self, mouth agape and buck naked.

I’d become a girl. And a very beautiful one, at that.

Valerie and I were twins before today, both sharing a height of six feet and a fair complexion, but now we looked almost identical. My brown hair and eyes, respectively given from my mother and father, were now switched to Valerie’s auburn and green. My hair had ballooned down to my shoulder blades in length, and my teeth had been straightened as well.

However, I did notice some differences. For one thing, my hair was straight instead of bushy, and parted down the right side of my head as opposed to the centre-left like Valerie’s was. While Valerie was curvaceous and - if we’re being honest here - busty, my new body was somewhat lithe and muscular by comparison. I mean, I still had decent breasts and a pair of legs that’d drive any man wild, but I honestly looked strong enough to knock someone out too. Maybe I’d retained some of my sporting acumen in this body?

Looking around the room, I spotted my wallet on the desk, inside a handbag that had replaced my toolbox. Opening it, I saw that I wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Smiling back at me was my new self’s student ID, now addressed to Mallory Cliona Sutherland instead of Malcolm Clinton Sutherland. Stunningly, the ID belonged to the girl’s school that Valerie and Stacey went to.

At that moment, Valerie burst into the room with a smile that didn’t last long. “Hey Mal, our wish came true-wait WHAT?”.

“Did it?”, I deadpanned while covering myself up with the bedsheet.

“Well, Mum’s no longer crippled,” she added. “But I’m not sure what happened to you.”

“I can answer that – whoa, you’re quite pretty,” Stacey chimed in behind Valerie. “You also both wished to be closer to each other – and since Valerie and I go to a girl’s school, the wish saw fit to grant itself by removing the biggest obstacle and turning you into a girl.”

“Tell me you had no idea this was going to happen,” I tersely replied, none too pleased at the pending periods and pregnancy prevention I was signed up for thanks to Stacey’s meddling.

“I definitely had no idea,” Stacey said earnestly, her hands held up defensively. “But Valerie and I will do what we can to help you acclimatise to life as a girl, and that’s a promise I want to keep.”

“Agreed,” Valerie responded. “Shall we pick out a new name for you?”

“No need,” I replied, holding my wallet out. Two pairs of eyebrows nearly jumped off their respective foreheads in response.

“So you’ll be going to St. Augustine’s like us, then. That makes things easier. Do you have any school supplies or anything like that?”

“I don’t know; I only just woke up. Mind leaving me be so I can dress and take a look?”

“Fair enough; we’ll use the pancake mix I got yesterday for breakfast.”

When the pair left and shut the door, I took in the room’s new items. For one thing, my desk was a bit cleaner than before, with my father’s old computer now sharing space with a couple of sporting trophies I didn’t remember winning. Looking closer, I saw that they were for the sports I’d previously played – football and hockey. At least that would be familiar enough, even if the prospect of a sports bra frightened me.

Next to the desk was a schoolbag, in the St. Augustine’s usual colour of brown. Opening it, there wasn’t much inside – fitting, given that it was the holidays – but I also saw the courses I’d apparently selected already. At least the coursework was on par with what I’d been doing previously – English, social studies, biology and physical education, namely – and I also noticed a school-issued diary, water bottle and lunchbox inside as well. And above the desk was pinned an award, made out to me for a sports scholarship.

My closet’s content was completely different. It seemed that Mallory’s love of sport didn’t confer a manly dress sense upon her. I saw dresses and skirts aplenty, a fair number of tights and boots, and plenty of tops, cardigans and … well, undergarments. Despite now owning twice the clothes I’d ever had before, I still didn’t have pants other than the sports uniforms I spotted in the right corner of the closet.

And instead of the work clothes I washed and dried yesterday, I now had a pair of uniforms waiting and folded. They were identical to the ones Valerie wore; medium brown jumpers, dark brown jackets, sleeveless dresses that had a tartan pattern with those two colours, and white dress shirts. However, I noticed that my tie and thigh-high socks were grey as opposed to the beige ones Valerie wore, probably meaning that I belonged to a different school house. I then spotted a pair of brown T-strapped Mary Janes by the door - where my steel caps had been placed last night.

“Oh God,” I breathed, dazed at just how many things had changed due to one scribbled wish. “What am I in for?”

The smell of pancakes snapped me out of it. The white cotton briefs went on easy enough, but I had to put the bra on backwards and turn it around, it was so alien to me. I then picked the easiest looking thing to wear in the closet – a teal muumuu – and put on some socks and a pair of black lace-up boots with it. Steeling myself, I walked out of the room and into the dinette area. Instead of having two chairs, it now had four along with a longer table. The access ramp was gone, too.

“Looking cute, Mallory,” Stacey appreciatively remarked, emphasising my name change.

“You’ve got to show me your wardrobe after breakfast,” Valerie added from the kitchenette as she finished the batch.

“Fucking shoot me,” I groaned. “Wait, where’s our mother?”

“That’s what woke us up earlier,” Valerie revealed. “She was all dressed up, leaving early to get to her payroll job.”

“That’s good to know,” I admitted. “It turns out that I got into your school on a sport scholarship, and still play football and hockey.”

“That’s bound to help things a bit,” Valerie replied as she brought in the breakfasting items.

“Yeah, it should,” I agreed. “I’m looking forward to putting myself through my paces when I get the chance.”

“Fair enough. Let’s eat, and then we’ll begin the womanhood lessons.”
__________________________________________________________________________________

“… and that’s why you always wipe front to back,” Valerie finished as we entered my room.

“Makes sense,” I agreed, having also learned how to use pads and basics for shaving body hair over breakfast. Stacey, more practical than I’d given her credit for, took notes for my benefit as Valerie led the conversation.

“Now, let’s show you what to do when it comes to styling your outfits.”

“What do you mean by styling outfits? I thought you just wore them.”

“What I mean is how you wear clothing,” my sister amended. “Take your present outfit, for example. It’s sort of a nice look, but that knee-length muumuu’s quite shapeless without something else on. You could either put on a white belt or sash around the waist, or throw on a black jumper on top of it to give it some shape.”

To prove her point, my sister found a white scarf without any filigree and a black jumper in short order, while Stacey took to checking and recording my measurements for future reference. “Try the two on one by one, and you’ll see what I mean.”

“Alright,” I hesitantly agreed, before putting on the jumper first. Sure enough, it gave some shape, but the look didn’t feel right to me. Taking it off and smoothing down my hair, I tried wrapping the scarf around my chest, tying it down the front and swivelling the fabric around my stomach. That looked nicer, almost hippie-like in tone, and it did accentuate my figure.

“That’s a neat look,” Valerie noted. “Now your shoes already work with that outfit, but I’d consider pulling those socks higher. I can tell there’s enough there to reach your knees.”

“You think? I’ll try, I guess,” I responded. True to Valerie’s observation, the white socks made it comfortably up to my knees, and managed to pass them into the depths of the muumuu, reaching mid-thigh.

“Oh, you’ll be steering boys away from me in no time with that,” Valerie joked. “Also, I’d suggest trying either a beige or cool brown heeled boot without laces to increase the hippie look, if that appeals to you.”

It’s just as well she’d turned to catalogue the rest of the items in the wardrobe, for my shock at that first statement made me realise that I didn’t see Stacey as attractive anymore. And when my eyes drifted away from the pair, I caught notice of a magazine Stacey had brought in with some male model on the front cover. Before I could stop myself, I was admiring his chiselled jaw, getting lost in those dark eyes, wondering how it’d feel to have my legs spread and maidenhood mashed in … there was no denying that I wasn’t myself anymore.

Stacey noticed what I was doing, and tapped me on the shoulder.

“Eating the eye candy, are we?”

I blanched, then covered my hands in shame as the horniness and shock wore off. Feeling disgusted with myself for getting so horny so quickly, I felt the waterworks coming as the reality of my situation again knocked me off my feet.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Stacey soothingly said as she pulled me into a hug and led me out of the room – with Valerie wisely staying behind – and I let it out once the door shut.

“I’m sorry for ruining your top,” I said after the tears had stopped. “I – I just, looked away from the clothes a-and started fantasising about the man on that magazine’s cover,” I shakily explained. “About what I’d want him to - oh God, I feel so powerless in the face of this! I don’t know what I am anymore!”

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” Stacey replied. “But I know that you’re who you choose to be. Besides, your interests and life goals haven’t changed.”

“Maybe, but … but, I wasn’t attracted to guys before today. I used to think you were hot, but now I – like, I don’t see you as attractive, but I know you’re beautiful?? If that makes any sense?”

“Well,” Stacey replied, looking flattered at that admission, “it sounds like you’re straight one way or another. Of course, you being a straight woman means you’re into guys now.”

I looked stricken at that thought.

“Look, Mallory,” Stacey firmly said, “it’s perfectly natural for girls to like boys – or girls, in my case.”

“Huh? I had no chance then?”, I said with joking disbelief.

“Yep, especially since Valerie’s still in the closet and I’m waiting for her.”

I actually managed a laugh at that. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s spotted her state of denial. You’d make a nice couple, too.”

Stacey smiled at that. “Thanks. You know, you’ve got a nice laugh. And that contralto voice you have is quite smooth.”

“Wait, really?”

“You could totally be a radio announcer or something with that.”

“… I see. What an odd compliment,” I admitted, now realising that Stacey wasn’t wrong. “But enough of that; you were saying earlier?”

“That it’s natural for you to like boys now. It sucks that you can’t be as fabulous as Valerie will be, but you’ll have men eating out of your hand – or eating you out, depending on your tastes – and it won’t be the end of the world to experience life in a different way than you’ve planned.”

I blushed furiously on that note.

“But enough sex talk for now. I’m sure by this point, Valerie will have figured out some outfit ideas for you. After we’ve tried them out, we’ll take a break to let you get used to female fashion before broaching the whole makeup thing.”

“Understood. And thanks for looking out for me, Stacey.”

“Anything for a friend, Mallory.”
__________________________________________________________________________________

After I’d tried Valerie’s selections and had my picture taken time after time for an Instagram account that I’d suddenly gained, I was back in my first outfit as the three of us caught the bus into the local mall. My hair was now tied in a low, loose ponytail, held with a hair tie and a scrunchie that matched the muumuu.

“So if I’ve the right of it, I’m getting my makeup picked out and done by the woman you two see? I don’t want to be putting on too much of this stuff,” I fretted.

“That won’t be happening,” Valerie assured me. “We’re pretty lucky to have a complexion that’s free of blemishes, and I’ve only used three, maybe four products at once on my face – lip pencil, mascara, eyeliner and occasional eyeshadow.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” I remarked. “I used moisturiser when I was playing sports regularly, so slathering things on my face isn’t an issue for me. But why not lipstick instead of lip pencil?”

“I find it’s more subtle,” Valerie said, “and it can last longer in sweaty conditions. I’d still avoid eye makeup on game days to be safe, but lip pencil gets used by dancers and so on, so I think you’ll be fine there.”

“Fair enough,” I replied as the bus rounded the last corner before the mall. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Remember, you’ll need to learn how June applies this stuff,” Stacey reminded as the bus ground to a halt. “And don’t forget to cross your legs when wearing skirts or dresses.”

“I’ll try, but the muscle memory may not be instantaneous,” I noted as we stood up to leave. “I’ll likely need to practice both this afternoon.”

“Yeah, you may be right,” Valerie admitted. “Still, let’s get some lunch first.”

It felt weirdly guilty, eating out so casually after three months of not doing so. Stacey didn’t mind paying the bill, mercifully, so Valerie and I enjoyed the pork banh mi and spring rolls she was kind enough to shout us. After we’d finished, the girls led me to the southern end of the mid-size mall. Bearing in mind my lack of employment, I started scanning the shopfronts for hiring signs and ignored the looks I was getting from some of the boys around the place.

“Looks like they’re hiring,” I noted as we walked past the sportswear shop, retrieving a waiting application form from the rack outside the shop. “Reckon I’ll apply there once I’ve reprinted my resume.”

“Good choice, Mallory,” Valerie replied warmly. “That would be a good fit for you, and the workers there are pretty chilled,” she added as we made it to the beauty parlour Valerie frequented.

“Val, good to see you!”, the thirty-something beautician on duty called out. “Here for a new look?”

“Actually, I’ve brought my sister in for some work. June, this is Mallory.”

“Hi, June,” I greeted quietly. The blonde confidently came forward to shake my hand.

“So what brings you here, Mallory?”

“I’m looking to get makeup done for sounding out jobs. I’ve never worn any before now, but I now feel obliged to learn enough to aid my professional life.”

“Fair enough; you do look the sporty type. I presume you’ll want a low-key look to emphasise what you have?”

“Sounds good to me,” I agreed as I sat down in front of a mirror.

“Thankfully, you Sutherland girls could easily be models without much effort – especially with those perfect eyebrows,” June gushed.

Casting a glance at Valerie, who nodded encouragingly, I smiled back at her. “I’m flattered, really. And with your talent for it, I can see why Valerie comes here so often.”

June laughed at that, and even Valerie was smiling in concession to the roast.

“I’m liking you already, Mallory. Now, let’s construct a look for you …”

Ten minutes later, I’d gotten a matte lip pencil in a dark burgundy colour with a tube of light mascara and black eyeliner. June decided against including eye shadow once I told her where I was planning on working, assuring me that she’d help my wallet a little bit and have me wait until I needed it. I even took a selfie of myself with the makeup and had typed up some notes on my phone for future use.

Going by the looks I was getting from them, Valerie and Stacey liked what they saw.

“Nice one, Mallory!”, Stacey responded appreciatively.

“Looking good, sis!” Valerie added with equal effusiveness. “It will only get better from here.”

Despite everything, I couldn’t deny that sentiment as I returned home that day. For the first time, I felt a sense of peace with things, albeit temporarily.
__________________________________________________________________________________

That evening, after Stacey returned to her house and I’d practiced putting on and removing my cosmetics until I’d gotten it right, Valerie and I were just pulling out the soup from the fridge when our mother pulled in with her car. Watching her stand up through the window healed a hole in my heart, I must admit, but I wasn’t teary when she walked in the door. I was, however, surprised when she came in with a spread from the colonel.

“Don’t tell me you girls ate already,” she cringed.

“We haven’t. We’ll just save these for tomorrow, Mother,” I quickly assured.

“Good planning, Mallory,” she replied while hugging me. I held back a happy sigh and returned it, careful not to let my relief show as Valerie promptly replaced the soup containers in the fridge. Fetching the plates, we sat down and ate like we used to do. With my mother’s physical health restored, I noticed that she was still in a state of depression despite working to support us. I could tell by her haggard posture and dimmed eyes, with the tension in her cheeks displaying her resolve to hold it together as I’d done.

“By the way, Mother,” I started after finishing my section of food, “I’ll be applying to work at the sports shop at the mall tomorrow. I’d like some help looking over my resume if you have the time.”

She brightened up at that. “Sure thing! I’d be happy to help with that; just let me wash my hands and finish eating first, yeah?”

“Of course,” I nodded, fetching the relevant papers while my sister and mother finished their portions.

A few minutes later, I went through the form with her. As I thought, Mother’s years of experience working in offices helped immensely with what to say for each question.

“Don’t be afraid to tell them you’re available any time,” she advised. “They’ll already know you’re going on to study for A-levels, so they’ll tailor your shifts to suit your schedule once school kicks in. For now, you should do as many shifts as you can. That way, you’ve got more chance to get your skills up to scratch and fit in with your colleagues, and you’ll earn a fair bit of money too.”

“Noted,” I said as I pencilled that in. “I’m pretty sure they’ll allow enough time for gym visits and such like, given it’s a casual job anyway.”

“If they don’t, you should slap them,” my mother joked.

“You never know, they might have a weight rack in the break room or something,” I fired back through the laughter.

When it was all done, I gave Mother a hug. “Thanks for your help, Mother. I’m proud to have you as a parent.”

“Oh Mallory,” Mother replied, allowing herself to smile as my gratitude was conveyed to the best of my hugging ability. I got the feeling that with her health in order and the two of us girls supporting her, Mother would pull through the pain we still felt.
__________________________________________________________________________________

The next day, I wore a black skirt suit with a white frilled blouse as I walked into the sports shop with one of their application forms stapled to a resume. Dropping it in the waiting mail box, knowing it would be a phone interview that I’d get later in the week, I wandered around the mall looking for more openings around the place.

It was then that I noticed a shop I never clapped eyes on as a boy; a sex shop. Curiosity overrode my lingering shame and I bravely stepped inside. The woman behind the counter quickly looked me over.

“How can I help you, miss?”

“Well, I’m looking for a vibrator,” I said, slightly unconfidently.

“Let me guess, your first one?”

“Yeah,” I admitted sheepishly. “Any ideas?”

The lady pulled what was called a First Time Vibrator off the shelf. “One of these usually do for those starting out. It’s on sale for 30 quid at the moment.”

“Done,” I declared, pulling out my card from my purse. The card reader did its job, and I swiftly left with the toy stashed in my handbag, trying not to think about the budding curiosity I felt about my body and the sensations it conferred on me. I was already learning through experience that my skin was more sensitive to fabrics, wind and showering, so I knew that my restraint would probably give way sooner or later – and masturbation would obviously be the first port of call on that front.

Two agonising days of waiting later, with my provisional licence due the following day, I was feeling as stressed as I’d been since I was turned into a girl, flitting between anxiety over the job and the general disgust I still felt at myself for being attracted to men. My thoughts and Stacey’s words on the subject betrayed me eventually, turning to the vibrator in my handbag. Perhaps some stress relief is in order, I told myself as I fished it out.

And so, safe in the knowledge that I was home alone, I explored myself. Fighting past the denial and self-loathing I was experiencing, I loosened myself up both physically and mentally over the span of twenty-four minutes – and by the end, I felt more connected with myself, more used to being female. As I finished cleaning myself and the vibrator in the bathroom, my phone went off. Dashing into my room and picking it up halfway through the fourth ring, I answered as composedly as I could.

“Mallory here.”

“Ah, Miss Sutherland, it’s Trent Dascombe from Horizon Sporting Goods, calling in about your application to work casually for us?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “What would you like to discuss with me?”

“Well, we’ve just reviewed your application, and we’ve liked what we’ve seen. We’re willing to engage you in a job trial, starting next week, to see where you best fit in. Do you accept our offer?”

I fist-pumped in joy. “Yes! Certainly. What time on Monday do you want me there?”

“8:30 on the dot, and come dressed in black.”

“No problem. I’m looking forward to it already.”

“Good to hear, Mallory. Bye for now!”

“Bye!”

Putting the phone down to jump for joy, I learned quickly that vertical jubilation was now an activity I shouldn’t do without a bra.

“Oww.”
__________________________________________________________________________________

Once my job trial gave way to actual employment and my provisional licence came, the holidays whizzed past. After a few days, I hit the gym and found my weight limits on the machines to be … well, lacking compared to what I’d achieved as a man. However, I was mollified when I researched things a bit afterwards and discovered that I was comparatively in the same league of fitness as a woman that I had been as a man. I was still considerably acrobatic, so my goalkeeping in football and hockey remained strong enough to keep up with pick-up playing in the local pitch on different weekends.

Mother started to teach me to drive her car, and gladly helped me and Valerie come back and forth from shifts at the mall when she could. And after three weeks, my monthly visitor came a-calling. Despite all the warning, there’s no words to describe how the pain felt, how it lingered like a bad sports injury. And don’t mention the blood, or the horniness I felt after it was done. Needless to say, I’m glad I bought that vibrator.

Before long, school beckoned. After breakfast, Valerie guided me through packing my bags – both scholastic and sporting – before coaching me on how to don the uniform. The shirt and tie went on first, then the sleeveless dress over the top of it, then the jumper and jacket. I put the grey socks on afterwards, pulling them over my knees before the shoes were buckled on. Tying my hair into the low ponytail again, I then used the lip pencil by itself as the school rules dictated, then put the school’s ribbon over the hair tie.

Valerie then pulled me into a side hug, and pulled out her phone to take a selfie.

“Sister goals!”, she said as she aimed the camera.

“Sister goals,” I calmly echoed as the camera went off, a calm smile on my face offsetting the cheerful grin Valerie always had.

When we caught the bus outside our home, this one heading away from the mall towards our school, we noticed a girl our age at the back, tentatively peering through the window with our school’s uniform on.

“You know her?”, I whispered as we stepped on.

“Never seen her before,” Valerie replied as we validated our passes. As we moved towards the back, the newcomer looked towards us, as if she was going to ask a question. She had a nest of ginger curls framed around a pair of ice-blue eyes, and she was somewhere between Stacey and us in stature – but somehow, she was more stacked that Valerie.

“Are you new to St. Augustine’s?”, Valerie asked first.

“Aye; I wasn’t sure where to get off for it,” the newcomer replied, her rosy soprano voice telling us that she was Scottish. I also noticed that she had a pair of drumsticks in the crook of her left elbow. “Name’s Lorraine,” she added with a smile. “Lorraine Morrison.”

“I’m Valerie Sutherland, and this here’s Mallory,” my sister replied. “And yes, we’re twins.”

“I really couldn’t tell,” Lorraine snarked back. “Want to sit with me?”

“Sure thing,” I replied, taking the left seat while Valerie sat on her right. “You’re a drummer, I take it?”

“Aye, I’ve been playing for years,” Lorraine started, perking up. “I love playing funk and folk particularly. What do you two do, then?”

“Sport’s more my thing – I’m a goalkeeper in both football and hockey – while Valerie’s got engineering on her mind.”

“Really? I didn’t realise that the school had a hockey team here at all!”, Lorraine exclaimed, beaming widely. “I tend to play on defence, myself.”

“Cool! There’s tryouts on Friday at lunch, so make sure to sign up for them today.”

“I’m sure I will,” Lorraine averred, and I silently revelled in the idea of gaining my first bestie as a girl.
__________________________________________________________________________________

The next month passed like a blur. Another period came and went, I was working hard at school and my job, and I’d landed the goalkeeper position in Open Football and Hockey, the latter with Lorraine making the starting line-up. Stacey, being the artistic sort, accepted the musician easily enough, and the four of us made a strong friendship group right off the bat.

It was at a hockey game against a school from the opposite end of Dartford that things turned for the better. Lorraine and I had managed to clog up the goal throughout the match, preventing them from getting a goal the whole time. However, their defence was also impeccable, and I could sense that our frontline were getting agitated.

I stopped an attempted goal with a mere minute on the clock, and promptly flicked it towards Lorraine. Aiming for Esther Peterson, our team’s captain, Lorraine dribbled down the wing and struck hard towards the forward half. By dumb luck, it ricocheted off the curved edge of Esther’s stick, and narrowly slipped beneath the stick of the goalkeeper with seconds to spare.

As our crowd cheered, Esther and I lifted up Lorraine on our shoulders and carried her off the pitch before shaking hands with the other team and the referees. Moving to pack up our kitbags, Lorraine and I went to the locker rooms to freshen up and pack away our sticks, and drink a can each of IRN BRU in celebration.

As we walked out of the room, we saw Lorraine’s mother waiting for us. Given my mother had driven us home the last time, we decided it was only fair that we take turns going back and forth for matches. However, Lorraine’s mother wasn’t alone. Standing behind her was a young man, ostensibly Lorraine’s brother. He was tall, even more so than me, and he shared Lorraine’s red hair – even if it was straight and cut short. His eyes, however, were hazel, his smile was warm, and his body was very muscular. Whoever he was, I liked what I was seeing.

“Well done, girls!”, Mrs. Morrison greeted. “That was hella clutch!”

Lorraine groaned and the man facepalmed as I chuckled. “Thanks,” I managed despite the cringyness of a grown woman using gaming slang. “Who’s the red lamppost behind you, by the way?”

Mrs. Morrison cracked up at that, while the guy looked downward bashfully. “This lamppost is Tim, my seventeen-year-old son. Tim, this young lady is Mallory, one of Lorraine’s friends.”

“H-hi, Mallory,” Tim greeted bashfully, his deep Glaswegian voice turning me on already. “That was impressive goalkeeping,” he added with more verve.

“Why thanks, Tim,” I replied. “I also keep goal on the football pitch.”

Tim’s face lit up at that. “Now that, I’d like to see. I was a sweeper until I blew my knee last year.”

“Yikes,” I cringed. “Still involved?”

“I coach a couple of the younger teams in my school these days,” Tim replied. “I can still play pick-up games if I wish, but doing it competitively is out as far as I’m concerned.”

“Fair enough,” I replied. “Shall we skedaddle?”
__________________________________________________________________________________

The car ride home was good. Since Lorraine was also practising her driving, Tim joined me in the back, and we got b- heads out of the gutter, you lot; I meant the car, not my backside. Anyway, we got busy talking about ourselves.

“So you’re planning a career in fitness one way or the other, then?”

“Yeah – whether that be fitness teaching, coaching, playing professionally or even as a dietitian,” I confirmed. “What about you?”

“Well, I’m intending to work as a pharmacist,” he explained. “I’ve got a good mind for chemistry, and my old man worked as one.”

The tone in his voice towards the end of his explanation matched the one I had when my father was discussed; slightly bereft of its natural verve. I didn’t have to guess at what happened there.

“Sounds reasonable enough,” I agreed. “You still keep your fitness up, I take it?”

“Well observed. I bench press tanks on the weekends,” Tim trolled.

“I’m more into shot-putting four-wheel-drives, personally,” I snarked back. “No hard feelings when they get rendered unfit to drive.”

Tim laughed at that. “Reckon that’s true, Mallory. But in response to your question, I’m going three times a week. I’m treating my legs more cautiously these days for obvious reasons, but I’m focusing on my back and core for now.”

“Smart, given your height,” I replied. “Anything else you do with your time?”

“I’m … well, I’m pretty fond of reading, believe it or not.”

“Really? What’s your favourite series?”

“I’m fond of the stuff Terry Pratchett wrote, especially the Witches series.”

“Good taste! I’m more of an Adams fan, but Pratchett’s a cool writer.”

Tim looked surprised. “Why thanks, Mallory. I thought you’d give me shit for being a closet nerd or something.”

I smiled tartly at him. “No; I’ll leave that to Lorraine.”

Tim smiled in rueful amusement while Mrs. Morrison laughed hysterically and Lorraine couldn’t stop herself from chuckling at the observation.

I skipped out of the car that day with my head held high. Tim and I got on well, shared some interests, and we found each other to be pretty funny. There was nothing wrong with him as a person, and I honestly felt that we would make a good match. His height and physique helped as well, because despite keeping my height and health, I honestly felt more vulnerable as a girl – so having a man strong enough to protect me was a good thing.

Still, I felt awkward as hell about the idea of dating the brother of my best friend. What if it went wrong? What if Lorraine got stuck between me and her brother because of my desires clouding my thinking?! And yet, I felt something with Tim I hadn’t felt when talking with the male co-workers at my job. The anxiety was eating at me. And you can guess how I relieved it.

After cleaning myself up and thinking things over in the shower, I resolved to talk to Lorraine about it on Monday. However, she beat me to the punch.
__________________________________________________________________________________

“Tim’s been asking for you,” she teased on the bus that morning.

I must have given her a deer-in-the-headlights look, with my face paling. “Has he?”

“Aye. He’s freaking head-over-heels for you.”

I blushed heavily at that, burying my face in my hands as I came to grips with what I’d just learned. Lorraine took to giggling at my expense, my silence only confirming what she’d been guessing at.

“Looks like you’re into him as well! Mallory is horny!”, she mocked in a sing-song voice, quietly to avoid drawing attention from Valerie and Stacey as the two chatted amongst themselves.

“Please tell me you hate the idea of him dating me, so I can bleach my brain clean,” I pleaded, my self-denial again rearing its head.

Lorraine looked surprised at my shame. “Wait, what? I’m just trolling with you, Mallory; I don’t hate that idea at all!”

“Are you sure that’s OK?!”, I asked incredulously. Given how Valerie explained teenaged gossip to me before, this seemed dangerous at first glance.

“Mallory; you’re worrying too much. Tim’s the only guy in a house of women; he knows how to behave himself. Besides, you’ve got common interests already – and you’d be a good fit for him, given that you’re such a gentle and mindful person.”

“Wow, I-I mean … I’m flattered you think so,” I responded. “I just – I’ve never dated anyone before and don’t want to screw this up, you know?”

“That’s perfectly fair, Mallory,” Lorraine replied gently. “And I’ve got the perfect idea for a first date as well.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Guardians of the Galaxy 2’s just come out, and he’s a sucker for the MCU films. Meet him at the cinema on Friday, and I’ll tell him to meet his mystery date there to spare you the embarrassment. He’ll probably want to have a kebab on the way home, though.”

“That’s … actually not so bad; a fine restaurant would be too nerve-wracking for me,” I admitted. Steeling myself despite my instincts screaming otherwise, I held myself high. “I’ll do it.”

“And do him, no doubt.”

Lorraine laughed impishly as I blushed and double-facepalmed.

That Friday afternoon, I made a beeline for June’s parlour straight from school, and got my hands on some black eyeshadow along with the job she’d done on me earlier.

“Got an event on tonight, Mal?”, she asked after I paid up.

“A first date, actually.”

June beamed. “Nice! Who’s the lucky lad – or is it a lucky lass?”

“A lad; my best friend’s brother.”

June’s smile turned mischievous. “Good luck with that.”

“Thanks; I’ll need it. Have a great day, June.”

“Same to you, Mallory.”

I swanned out of there, making my way up to the local cinema as I waited for Tim to arrive. I hadn’t needed to wait long before he showed up. Since he’d come straight from school, he’d shown up in his black uniform and looked sharper for it. Tim looked surprised upon seeing me, blushing in embarrassment at Lorraine’s matchmaking.

“Should’ve known it was you; I’d have shaved otherwise,” he greeted awkwardly as I walked up to him.

“That’s alright; the five o’clock shadow suits you,” I answered honestly. “Frames your jawline really well.”

Tim gave me a look I’d seen on other men before; a stunned, touched smile that screamed “I’ve never been complemented in my life like that before, let alone by a woman I’m into.”

“Thanks, Mallory. Shall we get in line?”

“Sure thing, Tim. I’ll get the drinks.”
__________________________________________________________________________________

After the film had run its course, Tim offered me a ride home. The last act hit pretty close to home for both of us, and we held onto each other’s hands for comfort for the rest of the film. Neither of us talked much on the way out to his Impreza, and I pretended not to notice Valerie getting snogged by Stacey in the far corner of the parking lot as Tim opened the door for me.

“Still up for a kebab, Mallory?”, Tim asked, trying to steer us away from the melancholy as he sat down.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” I agreed as we strapped in. Tim gunned the engine, and drove a third of the way back home to the kebab shop he and Lorraine frequented since moving to Kent.

We collected our orders, eating them efficiently and carefully to avoid staining our uniforms. With nothing better to do, we walked back to the carpark, each as silent as the graves our respective fathers occupied. Once we made it to his carboot, Tim spoke up.

“I take it you and I … well …”

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“How long?”, he asked softly – no, gently.

“Five months,” I replied. “How my mother survived that crash and pulled herself together to keep a roof over our heads, I’ll never know.”

“The first year’s always the worst,” Tim agreed. “Your mother’s a tough woman, no doubt about it – and she’s done well with you and your sister.”

“Thanks. What about you?”

“It’s been ten years for me, and I’m struggling to remember him without a bald head now,” he replied, his bearing resembling a puppy used to being kicked. My heart broke for him instantly.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry to hear that,” I replied. “I reckon he’d be proud of the man you’ve become, for what it’s worth,” I added supportively.

Again, that stunned look emerged on Tim’s face – like how Jenna Fischer looked on the Office when her character was finally asked out by John Kransiski’s character.

“I – I don’t know what to say, Mallory. I’ve never met anyone outside of my family who could be so … so understanding of my situation,” he stammered out, blushing all the while. “Let alone a lady as gentle, witty and pretty as you,” he added bashfully.

I took his hands in mine, and looked him in the eye. “That makes two of us, Tim. You’re strong in a way few others are, navigating life alone as you’ve done. You’re smart, passionate, generous … and you treat a lady well, handsome.”

I punctuated that statement with a peck on the cheek, impulsively, and immediately felt the butterflies in my stomach start a death match. As I looked down at his big hands through my own, Tim lifted my chin, tilting my vision up to meet his own, and I lost myself in those bewitching hazel eyes and that dazed smile, his expression one of pure euphoria.

I stood up on my toes and pressed my lips to his, feeling myself get hot and bothered as Tim returned the kiss passionately, his arms sliding around my back as his hands propped me up. I felt his left hand rest gently against my backside, which made me quiver and reach my arms around him in return. With my right arm around his neck, my left felt the strong muscles in his back and my breasts gently massaged themselves against his majestic abs.

And here I am, kissing and feeling up a boy for the first time, as he does the same to me.

And I’m not feeling ashamed, disgusted or creeped out anymore. I feel normal now.

I’m now Mallory Cliona Sutherland in body and mind, and I’m finally at peace with myself as a woman.

I now let my past as Malcolm go for good, and I embrace my future as Mallory like I embrace my first boyfriend. And as he walks me to the car door, his arm wrapped around my waist and my head on his shoulder, I finally realise how free I am – to live, to breathe without the burden of supporting my family alone anymore, to enjoy life as a sixteen-year-old should.

Even if I had to spend that life as a lady.