As I cuddled my bunny, I marvelled at all that had happened and how my world had been turned upside down. This girl thing had disturbed me, and I wondered once again, why I felt like a boy inside despite the packaging.

Oh, the clothes felt nice, I couldn’t deny that and the body bits were interesting to say the least. I still hadn’t explored myself ‘down there’ and I didn’t really want to, as it would mean that I was accepting the girly bits as my own and not some weird, dreadful mistake. Having a fondle would make me feel a bit pervy, and that was one label I could do without.

So here I was, a boy in a girl’s body, and it just didn’t feel right. The trouble was, at the back of my mind, I was just beginning to have feelings that I may not have ever been a proper boy in the first place, and that was confusing to say the least.

As I fell asleep, despite the racket from the birds outside and my mum’s snoring inside, I could hear laughing coming from inside my head and it didn’t seem to be my laughter …

And now the story continues…

‘You are not dragging me in there! I said strongly.

Sarah looked at me with contempt. She was back in the Goth gear and looked like some sort of reject from the Michael Jackson Thriller video. Mind you I couldn’t get over the vision of her just a few brief hours ago when she wafted into my room looking somewhat different. She had been wearing a flimsy, wafty confection of a baby doll nightie in yellow. You know when you glance at the sun and then close your eyes and you still see the sun on the inside of your eyelid? It was like that with Sarah–I could still see it.

I shivered, trying to get the vision out of my head and not go ape-s**t–I mean, anxious over the fact that I was standing outside a beauty salon and that I actually had an appointment for the full works.

Mother dear, when she had surfaced from her drug induced sleep, had been persuaded by Goth Girl, to make me go and have what Sarah gleefully called “the complete works” whatever that meant.

I could see through the widow of the salon that it was some sort of torture chamber and I could smell things coming from in there that didn’t seem natural and even seemed mildly or majorly corrosive. There were women in the salon, lined up in long rows and all manner of evil things were being done to them; unspeakable things that involved implements of torture that wouldn’t look out of place in a Hammer horror movie. The only thing missing was Frankenstein’s wife, and I assumed that she was behind one of the heavy curtains at the back of the salon where “special services” were carried out.

I was stressed; I knew that I was stressed. As I walked along, wearing a skirt that barely covered my bum and a blouse that didn’t even reach my belly button; with shoes that made me feel like I was walking on stilts, even though Sarah had that told me that the heels were only two inches, I felt like a mini-tart. Everyone else said that I looked cute and lovely that was what lots of girls wore now. I would have preferred a nun’s habit thingie, at least I would be covered up and not quite so visible...

I was feeling seriously weird with pent up feelings that needed venting somehow.

A shop window shattered, showering glass all over the pavement and narrowly missing a man who had stopped to tie his she laces.

Things were building up in me a bit like a kettle about to boil. I couldn't go through with this. I had a strong feeling that something would go twang inside of me and more things would start breaking and exploding.

Sarah was holding my arm in a vice-like grip, looking scared and not quite up to the situation.

‘C...come on sis, nothing will happen–I think; calm down, it's only a s ... s ... salon.’

But something or things rather were happening. The traffic lights on the busy junction 50 yards away started acting crazy, constantly changing from red to amber and then green and then back again. A water pipe burst suddenly in the middle of the road and it was like it was raining all of a sudden.

My blouse and skirt were almost immediately soaked and for some bizarre reason, I was upset about my nice clothes getting wet.

Nice clothes, where did that come from?

I shuddered not just with the coldness of my wet skin.

I would like to say that these were random events with absolutely nothing to do with sweet little me, but who was I kidding; they were all caused by me and I was in freaking-out mode.

I tried to control it like I did with Mum’s China Incident and attempted to will everything back again, but it was no good, I was too upset to control my emotions. I fervently wished that the ground might open up in front me and then, like Alice, I could go down the hole and disappear. Mad hatters and huge bunny rabbits seemed to be somehow preferable to this.

I shouldn't have had thoughts like that. Of course it happened, there was a crack and the ground did open up in front of me, a great tearing gash that wouldn't have looked out of place in a B disaster movie.

But my life was a disaster movie for me at that moment. Here I was, a boy trapped in a girl’s body due to my idiocy and things were happening that would drive anyone insane...

Suddenly, everything stopped dead. It was like someone had clicked the pause button on a remote control.

I could still move, but Sarah was pale and motionless, as were all the pedestrians who were trying to flee the scene. The water that had been gushing out of the cracked main and making a geyser fifty feet high, hung motionless in the sky. All cars had stopped, one of the cars was about to hit another and...well you get the picture–we were in a freeze frame situation there.

‘Meoow.’

I looked down and there was Bracken, licking her paws and seemingly unaffected by all the mayhem going on around us. She has a silver necklace wrapped around her neck. That was strange because I had never seen it before and she wasn't one for jewellery and accessorising.

I felt a sort of itching feeling coming from my head, then the sound of static and then a voice.

‘Can you hear me?’

I looked around and no one had moved.

‘Down here dummy.’

I looked down and Bracken was looking at me with that annoying all seeing, “I know everything” look on her face.

‘Yes it's me.’

‘You can talk!’ I said.

‘Clever girl,’ she replied somewhat sarcastically.

‘Your lips aren't moving.’

‘So, want to make something out of it?’

‘No, erm whatever turns you on.’

‘These lips weren’t made for human conversation, “p’s” can be a bit of a drag so I do the mind thing.’

‘Cool.’ I said

‘I think so.’

‘So, erm, what's happening here?’

‘Your mind has gone into overload and you can't cope.’

‘Not surprising is it. Here I am a boy in a g...’

‘Yes, yes, we know all that. Do you think that we are all blind? Your Granny is worried about you. I am now your familiar, though why it has to be me, I don't know. I am all for a quiet life but no, she says that I have to do my duty and look after you. Why couldn't I be attached to some nice quiet little, goody two shoes witch whose main virtue is keeping her nose clean and doing the household chores. But no, it has to be you. Don't get me wrong, you are, I am sure a nice girl.’

‘I am a Boy.’

‘Whatever, look in a mirror; anyway as I was saying, you might be a nice girl but you have, shall we say certain issues and your Granny told me to take you under my wing...’

‘Oooh, do you fly too?’

‘What?’

‘You said take me under your wing, do you morph or something like vamp’s can change into bats?’

‘Stupid girl, it’s a manner of speech. Now, where was I? Oh yes, your Granny in her wisdom or lack of it, charged me to be your familiar and guardian. All witches have a familiar and cats are normally the ones chosen as we are all wise, wonderful, intelligent and we know mere than a little about the magic world, also we have certain powers that help our chosen one to, shall we say, get out of scrapes?’

‘Not very modest, are you.’

‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it, that’s what I say.’

‘So how are you going to get me out of this scrape then, clever dick?’

She looked at me and looked a mite displeased.

‘Never call me a dick, I might be a lot of things, but dick I ain’t.’

‘Sorry, just a manner of speech. How are we going to get out of this situation?’

‘Easy, first take this necklace and put it around your neck.’

I did as I was told just like a good little girl–I mean boy–I mean–oh I don’t know what I mean!

Hooking it up at the back was a bit of a problem because of my wet fly-away type hair that I was now cursed with, but somehow I managed. The necklace had a silver locket and on that was some scroll type words and a few tiny emeralds. I went to open the locket and have a peek inside...

‘Don’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because if you do, it loses its power.’

‘Gosh.’ I said and then looked more closely at the lovely–I mean cool thing.

‘It’s pretty but not my style,’ I said turning it in my hand and then I suddenly wondered where I was getting these feminine type remarks from. I should have said “it’s well cool, dude” or “wasup?” Or something equally manly and non female like, but I had said “lovely” and “pretty”!

I shuddered but didn’t have time to think anything more about it as gradually, I started calming down and feeling a bit better about things.

‘Well,’

‘Well what?’

‘Feeling better?’

‘Yes, funnily enough. Is this thing hexed, jinxed or something?’

‘Charmed is the word you are looking for. Yes, it’s your Granny’s; like you, she had problems controlling herself when she was young and her grandmother gave it to her.’

I couldn’t imagine my Granny actually being young. All the time that I had known her–like all my life, she had been ancient.

‘Did she start out as a boy then?’

‘You will have to ask her personal questions like that.’

There was no way I was going to ask her that. She would probably turn me into a frog or worse still, a slug.

I was getting a warm, cuddly feeling all over; like I was being wrapped in a nice warm blanket. I noticed that I was now no longer wet, but as dry as a bone.

I looked about, nothing had changed. People were still doing the statue thing; the cars were close to a collision at the junction where the lights had gone wonky. I noticed for the first time, on the other side of the road, a boy on a bike and he was close to being knocked off it by a lorry; sideswiped, I think the technical term is.

This was unreal and the thing of nightmares.

‘What can I do?’ I asked my furry, feline companion.

‘Close your eyes and imagine that you are standing where you are now, before all the mayhem started.’

Shrugging, I did as she asked. It was strange, my locket grew warm and then cold.

I was about to open an eye when...

‘Keep your eyes closed, idiot, can’t you understand plain Catlish?’

‘Don’t you mean English?’

‘I know what I mean, now concentrate...’

I felt a warm wind on my cheek and then the sensation of something being sucked out of me, air and something else...

‘Selene, are you listening to me?’

I opened my eyes, did a double take with an axel twist and gasped.

Everything was back to normal, normal for this town anyway. The traffic lights were working normally; the impromptu fountain had gone and the ground at my feet looked solid and crack free.

Sarah was looking the usual, angst ridden teenager that I knew and loved–sometimes.

‘Where did you get that cool locket?’ asked Sarah peering closely at it. ‘You weren’t wearing it before.’

‘Bracken gave it to me.’

‘When?’

‘Just now.’

‘No she didn’t. I’ve been with you all the time, I think that I might notice a cat that stands one foot tall in her socks giving you a necklace’.

I looked around and saw that we appeared to be Brackenless; in a Bracken free zone, in short, she wasn’t there.

‘She was here and she sorted out the bangs, crashes, explosions, the earth opening up and nearly swallowing me; not forgetting the impending car crash and that little boy who nearly got knocked off his bike.’

‘Have you been drinking coffee, you know how hyper it makes you?’

‘You didn’t see her?’

‘Who?’

‘Bracken.’

‘When?’

‘Just now.’

‘She was here.’

‘No she wasn’t. Look, are you coming in to have your hair and other stuff done or are you too cowardly.’

I felt myself get angry at that and I fully expected Episode 1 of Armageddon to start at any moment and then I felt a coolness from the locket on my less than ample breast–well I was a kid, what do you expect Dolly Parton boobs?

I calmed down. It didn’t seem too big a deal. After all millions of women go through the pain and torture of childbirth, it couldn’t be any worse that, could it?

I had no idea.

I was led like a ram ... I mean ewe to slaughter.

As I stepped, or rather was pushed through the door, the smell really hit my senses. You could call it a smell, but it was so much more; my eyes watered, my throat constricted and I had a pain in the head.

There were implements of torture everywhere. Awful pan-pipe muzak was being pumped out of several speakers. Women were sitting reading aged magazines with their heads semi enclosed by some sort of metal helmet thing that blasted out brain shrinking heat. I wondered how they could read, talk to their next door neighbour and listen to the music while their collective heads were being cooked, it seemed to me to be an extreme case of multi-tasking and I wanted nothing to do with it.

Then I felt a bit calmer as my locket did the cooling thing and everything came back into perspective. I was, outwardly anyway, a girl. Girls go to salons all the time; some, in fact can’t keep out of them. If they can do it, so can I. I would be brave, think of England and get on with it with a stiff upper lip.

I wondered vaguely if the locket was some sort of mind control Borg like thing, but I somehow didn’t think so. I would have to ask my Granny or even Bracken when I saw them.

I was stripped to my bra and panties, (shudder), and then requested, (ordered), to put on this long nylon smock thingie that did absolutely nothing for my figure or my ego, come to think of it.

I was told by the Oberstgruppenfá¼hrer or manager that I would be looked after by Sharon. Sarah had left me as she was being beautified, (their words), by Tracy. Miss Maureen, the manager was an imposing lady and she organised her troops along military lines. I was inserted into the assembly line starting with the hair wash or rather washes, as a number of gloop like substances were put on my hair and then washed off. Eventually, after stripping what oils my hair had off, Tracy, sorry Sharon then put some back on via some more gloop called a conditioner.

By this time I had gone into hibernation mode and just did as I was told, it was easier that way. It wasn’t until I had reached stage 3 that I booted up again as two sharp pricks in my ears indicated that I now had pierced ears.

Don’t let them fool you in to thinking that having your ears pierced doesn’t hurt, it does–a lot.

I didn’t squeal–much.

My British stiff upper lip quavered slightly after undergoing that form of torture, but that was by no means was that the end of my suffering.

I evidently had a few stray hairs in various places, including my legs. Being still young, it wasn’t much, but it was enough for Karina, my next ‘beautician’, to tut-tut and tell me that the offending hairs must be removed.

I would have thought, being a powerful witch, that I could somehow stop the pain and the agony, but no, it didn’t work that way and it took all the locket’s powers to stop me from nuking the place and all its sadistic inhabitants.

Of course I didn’t scream, I just whimpered like a girl. Thinking about it, I was a girl, in theory but inside I was a he-man, of course.

Do you know that they even waxed my eyebrows! I was told with glee that when I was a bit older my Mummy might let me have a bikini wax. I wasn’t sure what that was, but no doubt it would hurt like the devil.

The trouble was there was a small, tiny, insignificant part of me that was enjoying all this, despite the pain, agony and suffering. I was being pampered and I wasn’t used to that.

I tried to take my mind off what was being done to me by thinking calm thoughts. I imagined myself to be one a sunny beach somewhere with the waves lapping gently on the shore. Palm trees were there and the breeze gently ruffled the leaves. I was wearing a nice bikini and my body felt hot in the mid day sun...

Bikini!

I shuddered and came back to the present. What was happening here? Soon I would start reading one of those women's magazines and swooning over Justin Bieber.

By this time I was in the dentists ... I mean … styling chair. Veronica (call me Vron) was chattering away in salon-speak.

‘Oh what nice long hair and it has natural highlights and tones that set off your beautiful face. Oh no, split ends!’

She made it sound like I had some sort of dreadful disease.

‘Never mind, we can sort all that out. Now I see you as wanting a style that is beautiful, sophisticated ...’

‘I'm only thirteen,' I said.

‘You are never two young to start. We had a girl of nine in the other day. She had the works and she looked wonderful after I finished with her.’

‘Good for her.’

Vron carried on as if I hadn't spoken.

‘She came in as a plain Jane type caterpillar and went out as a beautiful butterfly.’

I had a look for the sick bag, like they have on plane journeys but for some strange reason there were none available so I just swallowed the bile and tried to go into auto mode as she wittered on and on and on...

I wondered how Sarah was getting on. I could hear no screams coming from the end of the salon and assumed that she wasn't in as much pain as me. What with the waxing and the mutilation of my poor ears, I was feeling less than chirpy at that moment.

It seemed amazing that just a few days before I had been a normal–well, nearly normal, boy. Now I was a girl and I was being made to be something that I was pretty sure I didn't want to be. What could I do?

Hang on, I thought as Vron came close to snipping off my ear lobe, outside I was able, by some sort of jiggery pokery to turn back time using my powers or maybe the power of my locket.

I tried to remember exactly what I did. It was difficult as Vron kept up an unceasing chatter about her dreamy boyfriend and how she intended to marry him as soon as they could afford to buy a flat.

Concentrate!

I shut my eyes and thought about being in the Forest, like before.

I was naked. It was dark, but the moon was full and strong. I was standing in the magic circle, pentangle type thingie and was about to do my stuff. I willed myself to not say those secret words that would change me into a girl...

‘There we are, what a pretty girl. Now time to have your nails done by Angelina.’

The thoughts had been broken as I was carted off to yet another table where my nails were to be resculptured, whatever that meant.

‘Oooh, you bite your nails!’ said Angelina (call me Ang) with horror in her voice. Another girl working with an elderly woman at the next table left off what she was doing and looked over. She shook her head, looked at me as if I was some sort of social pariah, shuddered slightly and then returned to the lady with a pink rinse.

‘You really shouldn’t bite your nails, you know. I think that we have something that will sort you out, acrylic nails are what you want.’

‘I do?’

‘You do.’

By this time I was too far gone. The fumes from the chemicals had an obvious affect on me, grinding down my will and allowing my torturers to do what they liked with me.

I just sat there looking out of the window while Ang did her worst on me. The sky was blue with white fluffy clouds. I saw a spec in the distance that gradually grew larger. Was it a bird, was it a plane? No, I could see eventually that it was a bat and it was heading towards the window–curious.

I jumped as the bat hit the window; fell to the ground shook its head and then shakily walked around the corner. It was strange that no one seemed to notice the bat other than me.

A few seconds later, Jessica walked in; rubbing her nose and seeing me, she came over and looked down.

‘Ooh dat hurt be,’

‘Pardon,’ I said.

‘By dose, I bashed by dose.’

‘You bashed your nose?’

‘Dats what I said; are you deaf?’

Ang, with the concentration of one who is truly into her work, completely ignored us and continued filing away ...

‘Sooo,’ I said, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘Appointment; bum says that I need to do something wid by hair.’

She still rubbed her nose, which looked rather sore. Without even thinking, I twiddled one of my free, non acrylic fingers and a pink jet streamed from the tip and touched the tip of her nose.

Jesicca went cross eyed, sneezed and then felt her nose.

‘Hey, how cool is that; you fixed my nose. You have serious ju-ju going on inside you. You don’t only blow things up, you mend them too!’

I tried to shush Jessica, who had a rather penetrating voice, but it was strange, Ang still carried on as if nothing had happened and the other people in the salon were paying absolutely no attention to us. This was strange and I would have to find out later why we were being ignored by everyone. It was just another instance of the strange world that I now inhabited.

‘I thought that you weren’t supposed to do the bat flying thing in broad daylight?’

‘I don’t normally, and don’t you snitch on me or they will clip my wings and that can be painful. Look, I have to go now; Madam Mim will have a go at me if I am late.’

‘Madam Mim?’

‘The manageress, that’s what I call her.’

‘She’s a witch then?’

‘Yea.’

So Miss Maureen or Oberstgruppenfá¼hrer to her friends, was a witch. How many others in this town were witches, vamps, werewolves, ghosts and ghoulies?

I waved my free hand and Jessica went over to the reception area and I carried on looking out of the window, that being preferable to watching Ang, with her tongue sticking out of the side of her red glossy lipped mouth, as she did her stuff.

Many people passed the window and I tried to work out how many were–different. The trouble was that no one looked any different to normal and they didn’t have labels on their foreheads to say that they were a witch or any of the other strange beings that inhabited our town.

Then I started as I saw my mum, on the other side of the road. She was walking along holding what looked suspiciously like a tea pot and she was talking to it.

Now if I was looking for strange, that was it. Just before she went out of view, I saw my dad’s car pull up beside her. He got out, looking a wee bit anxious, helped her in and they were off.

We really needed to do something about mum. She was normally okay unless it was a full moon, but the things that had happened lately had pushed her slightly over the edge.

A few minutes later my nails had been transformed and I must admit they looked a lot better than before, but I had no time for admiring them as I was taken to the final ‘station’ as they called it–makeup.

‘But I’m only thirteen and my mum won’t like it.’ I exclaimed as Maria plonked me down on the brown padded pseudo leather chair.

‘Your mum was the one to make the appointment and she said that she wanted her new little girl to look lovely. Though to be honest, we weren’t sure what she meant by new.’

So mum was the driving force behind all this. She really was getting gaga and I thought that it was my devious sisters’ idea originally and then Mum just agreed to it.

And so it went on and on and on.

My face was subjected to more painting than what they did on The Forth Bridge. Maria tried to explain what she was doing, but I wouldn’t or couldn’t take it all in. I think that it must have been some sort of magical intervention that I didn’t have my eyes damaged by the pencil thingie that she used on my eyelids.

Surely girls didn’t do this sort of thing for fun? How could they put themselves through this? As a boy, in the morning, when the alarm went, I was usually out of the house and going to school in 30 minutes flat. A quick wash of the face, dress, have breakfast, clean my teeth if I had time and then run for the bus at the end of the road.

Simple.

As a girl, I wouldn’t bother going to bed as there is no time to sleep. What’s the point? Sarah took forever to get up, dressed and ready. Mum was the same and never went out without her ‘face on.’ Even Granny had more lotions and potions on her face than strictly necessary. If she went for a swim with all that gunk on, there would be state of national emergency caused by the oil slick...

I digress, if that’s the word.

I had purposefully not looked at my reflection at any point and so I had no idea what I looked like. The only thing that I could see were my nails, which were now a rather vivid pink to match my toe nails.

Ooh, I hadn’t told you about my toe nails. They did them just after the Waxing of the Legs Episode.

Did I ever say that I am ticklish, especially my feet and toeses? I wriggled and giggled and it took two massive weightlifter type assistants to hold me down while I was dealt with. The fact that the nails looked perfect, shows that they must have had a great deal of experience with ticklish feet.

Eventually, Maria painted my lips. Not once, not twice, but three times, one coat after another. I swear my lips would now look so big that the rest of my face would pale into insignificance.

They had, at last finished and done their worst. It was over.

I was led back in a dazed, punch drunk state to the changing room and helped into my clothes.

Still I hadn’t seen myself. I was dreading it. I was going to look like a clown, a painted boy, someone to be laughed at.

Pulling the curtain back, there was Sarah, looking stunning after her makeover. For some strange reason I felt a teeny weenie bit jealous of how she looked.

I saw the look on Sarah’s face. It was a strange look; one that I couldn’t quite fathom.

Miss Maureen was there and I think that she smiled–but to my mind it all seemed a bit forced. She grabbed my elbow and walked me across the room to a full length mirror. I didn’t look at myself, I couldn’t; I wasn’t brave enough. I could feel the pain and anger boil up in me and I wondered if the salon had insurance against things exploding and then my locket went warm for a second and the cold and my eyes lifted and I saw myself for the first time after being salonised.

To Be Continued...

My thanks go to the lovely and talented Holly Hart for editing, and pulling the story into shape.

Please leave comments and kudo thingies...thanks! ~Sue

Shameless Plug
If you are enjoying this story, The original Penmarris story - Changes Book 1 is now available on Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006NZFWG8 (US)
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Changes-ebook/dp/B006NZFWG8/ref=sr_1... (UK)