Synopsis: A few friends are looking for sponsors for their sailboat in the big annual regatta, but no one wants to help out. One of the guys overhears a conversation about 'diversity' in sponsorships, and he gets an idea.

Another older story that's been tweaked, updated, and posted here. Enjoy

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This story is copyright by the author. It is protected by licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Tim flinched visibly as he heard Mike give the number. "That much for the entry fee?" he asked carefully, his heavily tanned brow wrinkled in concern.

Mike nodded grimly. "When that financial firm collapsed, the yacht club lost a big sponsor. A lot of other companies decided to pull their money, too." He shook his head. "So the club raised the entry fee."

Lewis leaned back against the rail of the boat. "We can't afford that," he complained. "No way can we get that kind of fee this late."

"Yeah," added Harry bitterly from his perch atop the cabin. "What the hell do they think they're running, the America's Cup?"

Mike looked down. He, like his friends, was devastated at the news. They were aboard Mike's boat, the 'Luck o' The Irish', sitting tied to the pier. For years, the foursome had sailed together, starting as teenagers when they met doing merit badges in the Boy Scouts. While some might consider it luxurious, the boat was only a twenty-seven foot Catalina - small by the standards of the yacht club. Mike's love of sailing had dictated his choice in housing; the boat slip adjacent to his condo was a feature he just couldn't do without.

"Man, I really wanted to beat 'Night Shift' this year." Lewis echoed the sentiments of all the guys. The skipper of 'Night Shift' was an old high school rival of Lewis' who took great delight in rubbing in his victories over 'Luck'.

Mike glanced around at his friends. Like him, they were all dressed in shorts and open shirts. Trim and athletic, their bodies were well toned and tanned from the time they spent sailing. Only Harry had any symptoms of excess beer consumption, but the hard work that the men put in sailing and racing kept his beer belly to minimal proportions. Weeks of exposure to the sun and the salt spray had done an effective job of bleaching their hair to lighter shades. If the men had been on a California beach with surfboards, they'd have fit right in. "Well," Mike said softly, "you want to go out and get in some practice?"

Lewis snorted, while Harry shook his head. "Are you kidding?"

"For what?" Tim added bitterly. "This is the last big race of the season, and we're not going to be in it."

**********

Mike fiddled with a French fry. His heart wasn't in eating; he still felt bad about the race. Tim had been right; there wasn't really any point in taking the boat out. For the first weekend in nearly six months, the guys hadn't gone sailing. Instead, Mike had been on the phone to every business contact he'd known, trying to find some type of sponsorship. He even took Monday off work to call, but he'd come up empty-handed. And now he sat, alone, depressed. Even a jalapeno-bacon-cheeseburger and Guinness stout, his usual 'pick me up' dinner at Ed's Diner, his favorite eatery, weren't doing the trick.

"Something wrong, Mike?"

Mike glanced up at Selena, the waitress and long-time friend. He was a regular, and when business was slow, they talked a lot. "It's the regatta," Mike answered slowly, twirling the fry in his fingers. "They raised the entry fee so high we can't afford to race this year."

Selena shook her head slowly. "That's too bad. I know you guys really wanted to beat Mitch this year."

Mike bristled when she mentioned Mitch's name. Mitch Logan, spoiled rich brat and skipper of 'Night Shift'. "Yeah, we wanted to be the ones to put that little shit in his place."

"Is he racing?"

Mike nodded glumly. "Yeah. Guess there are advantages to being rich."

Selena wasn't good at business, but she did have a way of empathizing with her customers, which was probably why she made a good living as a waitress. "Well, I know you'll think of something."

Mike shook his head slowly. "Maybe. I tried to find some corporate sponsors, but they're all being pretty tight-fisted this year."

Selena shrugged. "The race isn't for three weeks. Don't give up yet, sweetie." She spied another customer needing something, so she sauntered away, leaving Mike sitting, wishing that he could be as optimistic as Selena.

Mike plunked his elbows on the table so he could lean his head into his hands. He shook his head slowly, fighting the feeling of hopelessness. There was no way they were going to find a sponsor - not with the economy the way it was. No sponsor, no race.

Selena led two business-suit clad men to the booth behind Mike. He barely noticed as they sat down and Selena gave them their menus. As she came by, Mike lifted his empty glass, and Selena knew he needed another beer.

"You should have checked with me," one of the men behind him said. Mike sighed, wishing the two had sat somewhere else. Either they didn't notice that he was there, or their topic of conversation wasn't sensitive. The first man continued. "With the EEOC and the NOW gang watching us, we have to be very careful about our PR events. Diversity, you know."

"I know," the second man said heavily. "So now what do we do?"

"We better find some women's sport to throw some money at, and pronto. Or else...." His voice sounded grim, and Mike amused himself thinking of the 'consequences'. One or both of the guys was about to lose a job.

"Here you go, sweetie," Selena said nicely as she delivered Mike's drink. "Now don't go overdoing it, okay?"

Mike nodded slowly, glancing up at Selena. "Okay," he acknowledged. As she sauntered off, Mike began to sip his beer. There had to be a way to enter. There just _had_ to be a way!

**********

"You ready for your check, hon?"

Mike glanced up at Selena. "Sure," he answered.

Selena fumbled in the pocket of her apron for his check. "You know, I've never seen you this down," she observed. "That race has really gotten to you, hasn't it."

Mike nodded as he accepted the tab. "It'll be the first race we've missed in, oh, about ten years."

"Ouch!"

Mike sighed. "You said it. There's just ..." He stopped suddenly. There was something nagging in the back of his mind, something he'd recently heard or seen. What was it?

"You okay?" Selena asked when Mike halted mid-sentence.

Mike frowned in concentration. Then his eyes lit up. "Those two guys that were here - you know them?"

Selena shrugged, puzzled. "Yeah, they come in about once a week for dinner. Work for the big computer consulting firm down the street. Why?"

"Maybe it's nothing, but they were talking about sponsoring teams. You hear anything about that before?"

Selena glanced around, and seeing how little business there was at the moment, she slid into the booth opposite Mike. "Yeah," she answered easily. "They've been sponsoring Little League, soccer, Boy Scouts, pretty much everything. From what I've heard over the weeks, they got sued by some women's group for discriminating in their donations."

Mike sighed. So close, only to have his hopes dashed again.

"Was it important?" Selena asked as she saw Mike sink again.

Mike shook his head slowly. "Nah," he mumbled. "I heard the part about sponsoring teams, and I was hoping that I could get them to help us out." He laughed bitterly. "I guess the only way they'd help us, though, is if we were babes!"

Selena's eyes narrowed at Mike's statement. "Can't you just put together a crew of ladies and skipper them yourself?"

Mike shook his head. "Maybe, but I've got a hunch that if they wanted to sponsor a ladies' team, they'd want an all-ladies' team." He laughed again. "It looks like the only way we're going to get in the race is if the tit-fairy visits us and changes us into girls!" He started to chuckle, but the noise died in his throat when he saw Selena's face.

"Are you serious about that?" she asked in a somber voice.

Mike frowned and cocked his head slightly, staring warily at Selena. "What are you talking about?"

Selena didn't so much as bat an eye. "Are you serious about entering the race if you were girls?"

Mike wanted to laugh, but something about Selena's demeanor told him she was very serious. "Yeah, I guess." He frowned again. "What are you saying, that you've got some kind of magic wand that can change us into girls or something?"

Selena smiled and shrugged. "Or something. Let's just say I know of a place that can help you out. If you're serious, that is."

**********

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Selena stood with Mike in the parking lot of a water park with the unlikely name of Bikini Beach.

Mike glanced at the ticket booth, then at the gate where many women were entering the park, then back at Selena. "I'm not sure why I'm going along with you on this. Magical changes are impossible."

Selena shrugged. "Maybe. All I know is that I've heard this place changes guys into girls. I've seen guys buy tickets, but I've never seen a man inside."

Mike felt a tremor - perhaps of unease at her statement. "You'll forgive me if I'm still skeptical. But let's give it a shot."

Selena nodded, then stepped aside and swept her arm toward the ticket booth. "Okay, let's go."

Mike glanced at her, gulped, and stepped to the booth. "I'd like a ticket, please," he said, unable to contain the nervousness in his voice.

The young lady in the booth glanced at Mike, and then smiled broadly. "I think a one-day pass will work for you," she said. Then she winked. "For this time, anyway."

Mike felt a stab of discomfort as he signed the credit card slip. He turned with the pass in hand and stepped away from the window. "So now what? Bolt of lightning or something?"

Selena shrugged. "I'm not sure _how_ it's supposed to work. All I know is that the park is supposed to change men into women. So let's go in and see if it's true." She added the last bit with a mischievous grin.

**********

The men's locker room was much smaller than Mike had expected for a park as large as Bikini Beach. He stashed his clothes in the locker and stepped to the door. He tugged, but it refused to open. As Mike frowned, he noticed the sign reminding the patrons to shower, and citing a health department regulation. "Okay," he said to himself. He turned back and stepped into one of the shower stalls.

The warm water felt almost tingly as it hit him, and the worry and tension of the race sponsorship seemed to melt away. As the jets of water massaged his tense muscles, he let his eyes close for a few moments. Around him, unseen to him, the mist turned a faint pink.

As the mist cleared, Mike stepped from the shower, marveling at how the water seemed to have washed away his tension. With a renewed bounce in his step, he walked toward the door, feeling hope again, even if this whole thing about 'magic' was impossible.

Mike shielded his eyes from the bright sun and stepped out of the locker room. As expected, as soon as he'd showered, the door opened. Must be some kind of interlock on the door, he thought to himself. He took another step, and then froze when he found himself face-to-face with a semi-nude girl.

Intrigued beyond his sense of decorum and decency, Mike glanced up and down the figure of the girl, wanting to whistle in appreciation. She was a very trim, athletic-looking girl, maybe five foot eight and one hundred thirty pounds, it didn't look like there was an ounce of fat on her. Trim flat stomach, modest and firm breasts, where Mike's gaze lingered for far longer than was proper, shoulder-length sandy blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, well-tanned. Though she wasn't a beauty queen by any stretch, she was nonetheless an attractive young lady.

Mike stared closer at the girl, at how she moved, at her facial expressions. Suddenly, his mouth dropped open in surprise. He dropped his gaze from the girl down to himself. "Holy shit!" he mouthed as his hands cupped his bare breasts, "It really works!"

"Yes, Mike, it does," a voice sounded from behind him.

Mike spun suddenly, his cupped hands hiding and supporting his breasts against the motion. It was the dark-haired girl from the ticket booth.

"Would you please put this on?" the girl asked as she produced a bikini top. "Grandmother dislikes topless sunbathing."

Speechless, Mike saw no recourse but to take the bra and put it on. He fumbled with the catch, then slid the straps over his arms. "How did I do that?" he asked softly.

The girl smiled. "Much better. Now about the 'how', the water changed you, as you know. It also gave you some ... feminine ... skills."

"Like putting on a bikini top?" Mike asked carefully.

The girl smiled. "Yes. Now, about your other questions."

Mike started. His mind was racing with questions he wanted ... needed ... to ask. And somehow, this girl had read his mind. Then again, if the water was magic and could change him to a girl .... With an irritated frown, he brushed the hair back from his shoulder, only to have it sweep back. Mike's head snapped to the side to glare at the offending locks, but they danced away as he turned, only to return when he turned back to Anya.

"By the way, I'm Anya. My grandmother owns this park. And yes, it's magic that changed you. Now to your questions. First, the magic wears off in the middle of the night after your pass expires. You're not going to be stuck as a girl forever." She grinned. "Unless you want to, that is."

Mike shook his head, his eyes wide. "Uh, no thanks."

Anya shrugged. "You can't blame a businesswoman for trying to sell a lifetime pass. Now, the change affects you locally; your male identity still exists for you to resume." She smiled. "It's much easier that way. Your clothing and identification have changed, too. You'll find your drivers' license says you're Michelle Walker, and it will until you change back."

"Wow!" Mike mouthed, amazed at the extent of the changes that Anya was describing to him. His hand reached up, as if of its own mind, to make one more futile attempt to brush the hair back off his shoulders. Even as he moved, he felt the bra strap dig into his shoulder. He frowned as he glanced down, changing his tactic from the hair to the breasts. He tugged on the strap, lifting it momentarily off his shoulder, only to feel the pull on his breast as the cup lifted with the strap. And his hair, the shoulder-length locks of light brown, now they swirled down beside his face as gravity tugged at them. Mike let go of the strap, wincing as his breasts bounced again. He looked up at Anya, his expression slowly changing from irritation to pleading. The first impression of this very female body was curiosity; now, only moments into the change, little differences were making their presence starkly known.

Anya laughed aloud. "It's not really _that_ bad," she said. "Remember, half the population lives like this." She watched Mike's reaction. "Besides, it won't take you very long to get used to the changes."

Mike's frown deepened. "Like I'm _ever_ going to get used to this!" He tugged at both bra straps to emphasize his point.

Anya just smiled and shrugged. "It comes with the territory. If you want to race, you need to be a woman. And you can't be a woman without the normal, um, unique things of being a woman."

"Yeah, but..."

"If you can put up with it for a little bit, and if you can convince your friends to change, you'll be able to enter the regatta as a women's team. And that's what you want, isn't it?"

Mike tried to think of a reply, but none came. Anya had hit the nail square on the head.

**********

Michelle sat on the edge of the cabin, her long tanned legs dangling down over the cabin hatch. Her friends were sitting in the cockpit, staring uneasily at her. "Well?" she asked finally. Her hair was now pulled back off her shoulders, bunched up behind her with a scrunchie. That took care of the annoying hair problem, or at least all but the lock or two that refused to stay put.

Lewis shook his head. "That's a pretty incredible story," he said slowly. "You expect us to believe you are really Mike, and you were changed by magic into a girl?"

Michelle bit her lip. "I know it sounds pretty fantastic." She turned to Harry, and again winced inside as she felt her breasts sway with what seemed to be the slightest motion. "How bad do you want to beat 'Night Shift'?" she asked.

Harry looked down between his feet. "I don't know," he muttered. "You're telling us things that only Mike knows, and that I know he'd be too embarrassed to ever tell anyone else. Everything you've said makes sense." He looked up, shaking his head. "But damn, Mike, you're a babe! Not Mike!" He glanced at Larry. "I just don't know."

Tim glanced at the other two. Then he stood and climbed up on the cabin, beside Michelle. He glanced at Michelle's face, and then looked down. "This sounds really weird," he admitted softly, "but I'm convinced you're really Mike." He glanced at Lewis and Harry again. "And I _really_ want to beat 'Night Shift. We _all_ want to beat 'Night Shift''." He paused, frowning as he composed his thoughts. "But if we race like this, it won't be the _guys_ beating Mitch. It'll be us - as girls."

Michelle nodded slowly. "Hell, Tim, I know that." She gazed out over the calm water of the inlet. "And I don't know about you guys, but this is personal for me. I want to see that little son of a bitch lose, even if I don't get any of the credit." She turned back and stared evenly into Tim's eyes. "You _know_ 'Luck' is the only boat that can beat him." She glanced at the other two and watched them lower their gazes.

He looked down again, shaking his head. "I may be crazy, but if this is the only way..."

Michelle smiled. "Thanks, Tim." She glanced at the other two. "What about you two? Are you in or not?"

Harry glanced at Tim, then at Lewis, and finally at Michelle. "We've sailed together for as long as I can remember. I'm in." He glanced at Michelle. "I'm not sure about being a girl, but I want to sail. I'm in, skipper."

Lewis looked up. "Okay, if you guys are in, I guess I'll go along." Michelle started to say something, but Lewis shook his head. "But there are a few details we're going to have to work out."

"Like what?" Michelle asked.

Lewis held up a finger. "First, as girls, we're going to have a lot less upper body strength. It's going to be hard to work the lines and winches - if we can even manage." He let his cautionary words sink in. "Second, it's going to look kind of funny for us to enter as girls, and the day after the race, those girls will be gone. And third, unlike you confirmed bachelors, I've got a live-in girlfriend who probably will not like me changing into a woman." His expression suddenly became a bit less serious, a little more mischievous. "And if she _does_, well, I'm not sure she's the right girl for me."

Michelle grimaced. "Okay, you've got some good points. Can we get an extra crew member or two? That would help with the strength issue."

Lewis shook his head. "Unless they know what they're doing, extra crew would slow us down."

Harry nodded his agreement. "Unless we spend some time with the new crew practicing."

"Look, you're all assuming we can get a sponsorship, and that we'll be able to _effectively_ sail the boat."

Michelle sighed and nodded slowly. "Okay," she finally said, breaking the silence. "How about this? Tomorrow, I'll take the day off, change, and see if I can get the money lined up." She saw the guys nod their agreement. "And then, after work, we'll change and take the boat out." She glanced around, and saw the guys slowly nod their agreement in turn. She adjusted her bra strap for perhaps the hundredth time, and decided she _wasn't_ going to tell the guys of some of the inconveniences she'd already discovered. No sense in scaring them off. Not yet.

**********

"This is _weird_, man!" the feminine voice came through the closed door of the men's locker room.

"We're losing daylight, guys!" Michelle said impatiently through the door. She knew that the guys were embarrassed at being changed into women.

"But ... we're _women_!"

Michelle couldn't tell who was talking. She sighed, then grabbed the handle and yanked the door open. "Yeah, so get over it." She held out the bikini tops Anya had given her. "Now put these on and get outside."

Michelle waited, and presently, three young ladies came out of the locker room. All three were glancing around nervously and blushing. Harry was walking like she was on eggshells, her eyes riveted to the orbs on her chest. She looked like she wasn't sure if she should cup her breasts to stop any jiggling, or leave them alone because holding them would be too much like feeling herself up.

Lewis was shorter than Michelle, but perhaps a bit more muscular. Her hair was longer and blonder, and was currently fastened behind her head in a pony tail.

Tim was slightly taller than Michelle, with long dark auburn tresses spilling off her shoulders and very pretty features. She was easily the most attractive of the four.

Harry was the shortest, and while she wasn't chunky, she had extra body fat. Unlike her male beer-belly, her fat was distributed in female places. In short, Harry as a girl had the roundest curves. Her dark hair was cut in a short sassy style, as if to diminish the extra femininity of her figure. In reality, it had the opposite effect, making her look more exotic.

"Okay, so do you want to go out in bikinis, or in our regular clothes?" Michelle asked.

Harry frowned. "I looked at my street clothes. There's no way I could go sailing in them." She spat the words, clearly disgusted by what her clothes were.

Tim and Lewis nodded. "We'd better go in bikinis."

Michelle nodded. "Then get your stuff and let's go." Michelle's clothes were already in her tote bag, and unlike the other gals, she'd taken Anya's advice and was wearing a one-piece suit. She had only a short wait for the others to meet her by the car.

"By the way," Michelle asked as they climbed into her classic Mustang convertible, "what did you draw for names?"

Tim wrinkled her nose in confusion, and Harry laughed when she saw that. Tim frowned.

"Sorry," Harry explained, her eyes widening at the soft alto of her new voice, "but you looked kind of sexy when you did that!"

"And you sound like a sailor's dream," Tim retorted quickly, ignoring the sultry contralto of her own voice.

Tim glanced at his license, now in a purse. "This says I'm Pamela," she said softly, wrinkling her nose. "I don't know if I like Pamela."

Harry laughed. "If only you had the curves of a certain Baywatch Pamela!" She glanced in her own purse. "Gina?" She wrinkled her nose. "That sounds Italian. I'm not Italian, so how did I end up with a name like Gina?"

Lewis swallowed hard. "Watch me get a name like Gertrude or something." She opened her own wallet and glanced at the license.

"Well?"

"Linda." She closed her wallet. "I guess Linda sounds better than Tiffany or Brandi or something like that. Since it's only for tonight, I think I can live with Linda."

Gina laughed. "Yeah, but can Shelly live with Linda?"

The drive to Michelle's condo was short, and the conversation was mostly kidding among the new women. Michelle noted that the barbs were very nervous. Given that they had been guys not an hour before, it was understandable. And the guys were calling each other by their male names, as if they were _afraid_ to refer to themselves by the names on their new IDs, or to use feminine pronouns. Michelle smiled to herself; If she hadn't already spent a couple of days as Michelle, she knew _she'd_ be doing the same. Eventually, the guys would start calling each other Pam and Linda and Gina - and calling her Michelle instead of Mike.

Michelle also noted that the gals were doing the same nervous actions that she'd done on her first change. Pam, with the longest hair, was constantly fighting to keep it from blowing in her face. While Gina's hair was short enough to keep out of her face, her breasts were causing her the major problems. Every time Michelle peeked, Gina was adjusting her bra or holding her breasts to keep the motion under control. Only Linda seemed to have gotten off easily; with her hair already in a ponytail, she only had the minor annoyance of her hair tickling her back but not flying in her face, and with modest bustline, she was less 'bouncy' than Gina. Michelle laughed, and at a stop light, she quickly dug in her purse and pulled out an extra scrunchie. "Here. Use this," she said as she tossed it back to Pam.

It didn't take long to get the boat ready; Michelle had already checked it out before taking the guys to Bikini Beach. A quick check of the rigging, check of the sails, and Michelle started the motor. Slowly, the boat putted out of the slip, and then Michelle turned and headed toward open water. The sea breeze would be dying soon, and they needed to get some practice quickly.

"Gina, get the cover off the mainsail. Linda, Pam, ready on the winch." Despite the change in body, Michelle was comfortable giving orders from the helm. "Okay, hoist the sail." She shut off the motor while Linda and Pam worked the winch. "Come on, get the sail up!"

"It's not going up very well!" Pam snapped back. "Are you sure the lines are clear?"

Michelle glanced topside. "Yeah, they're clear." She frowned. Linda's earlier fear about body strength was being demonstrated very early. In the front of the boat, Gina was working to free the jib.

It took a frustratingly long time to get the sails set. "Okay, let's start with some easy maneuvers," Michelle directed. She steered the boat as close to the wind as she could, then when the girls said they were ready, Michelle glanced around to make sure the boat was clear. "Prepare to jibe!" she barked. She waited a second, and when she was sure her crew was set, she ordered, "Jibe, ho!" At the same time, she spun the helm over hard to starboard, swinging the stern across the wind and to the other side.

Overhead, the boom swung as the sail fluttered, and then it swung from the port side when Gina released the traveler. Michelle was prepared, but Linda was nearly struck by the boom. Then it was clear of the cockpit, and Linda began to pull on the line to tighten the boom. In the forward cockpit, Pam released the port line on the jib and let it flutter. She ducked to avoid the boom, then grabbed at the starboard line and began to pull it taut.

"Get that line in!" Michelle barked. The boom was swinging wildly, the sail fluttering uselessly as Linda, and then Gina struggled to tighten the line. For several seconds, the girls fought the sail, until finally it was under control. Michelle sighed. Pam was still trying to get the jib taut; overhead, the tufts on the sail fluttered instead of streaming straight back to indicate proper trim on the sails. Linda saw Pam's struggle, and she lent a hand to the line. At long last, the line was secured, and the ship was trimmed again.

Pam, Linda, and Gina looked at Michelle, their faces all echoing their internal frustration.

"That was one of the sorriest jibes we've ever done," Michelle commented. It was unnecessary; the others knew it.

**********

Not much went well. When they tried sailing very close to the wind, Michelle stayed at the helm while the others hung on the windward side, adding their weight to counterbalance the boat. That exercise had nearly ended in disaster; Michelle steered the boat as close as she did when it was three guys, neglecting to take into account the significantly reduced mass of the girls. She'd had to spill the mainsail and hastily turn to keep from overturning the boat.

They tried to sail with the spinnaker, the huge balloon-like sail used exclusively for sailing downwind. To say that the girls had difficulty with the sail was an understatement. They hoisted it without too much problem, but when the were lowering it, they nearly lost the sail overboard as the wind tugged and pulled at the vast expanse of cloth while three girls fought to reel in the errant sail. And in the meantime, the jib was not being hoist, which in a race would have meant precious loss of time.

Finally, they turned and headed back toward the slip. Michelle was sailing the boat very easily, with the sails not trimmed for the most efficiency. None of the girls wanted to expend the extra effort. For a long time, no one spoke.

"Well," Gina finally said something, "you still think this is a good idea?"

Michelle sighed. "I don't know," she answered slowly.

"We sucked, didn't we?" Pam asked rhetorically. They all knew their performance had been less than good.

"Boat coming up from astern, off the port side." All three spun at Linda's report.

"Shit!" Michelle cursed. "It's 'Night Shift'."

Slowly, the hated rival slid up alongside the 'Luck o' the Irish'. The girls could see that the 'Night Shift' crew were gawking and staring at them, and they suddenly felt very self-conscious in their bikinis.

"Ahoy, Luck," Mitch's voice sang across the water between them, "Is Mike aboard? Or did he finally get the sense to sell his boat?"

Michelle felt her face burning with anger. "No, my brother isn't aboard," she answered, trying hard to keep from cursing. "He loaned me the boat so we could get in a little practice."

"Practice? You mean to tell me you girls race?" Mitch sounded both incredulous and condescending in the same statement.

"Let's ram the little bastard," Pam whispered insistently. Her face was as red with anger as Michelle's.

"Well, we're thinking about it," Michelle answered, nearly biting her tongue to control the profanity she really _wanted_ to yell.

"Tell you what, ladies," Mitch yelled back, "why don't you sail with me in the regatta? I've got enough deck space for passengers. Especially for ladies such as yourselves!"

Michelle smiled pleasantly, but behind the smile, she was fuming. Ever the arrogant bastard. "Pam, Linda, when I say go, we're going to dump the sail, cut behind him, and take his wind. Okay?"

The girls' eyes widened. This was a risky move; it meant deliberately cutting close across 'Night Shift's stern, and it would take precise timing to execute. But they saw the anger in Michelle's eyes, and they felt the same rage toward Mitch. "Okay, let's do it."

"Ready?" She waited a few seconds while the girls moved slowly into positions. "Go!" Gina dumped the traveler while Pam released the jib line; both sails immediately flopped loosely in the wind. Instantly, the boat lost headway. Michelle gave a glance to the side, toward 'Night Shift', and then she spun the helm hard to port. The bow of the boat swung around, slicing through the water until it looked like a collision was certain. And even as the boat turned, Pam grabbed the jib line while Linda and Gina readied themselves on the mainsail. As soon as they saw that they would clear the stern of 'Night Shift', the three tugged frantically at the lines, resetting the sails. At the same time, Michelle spun the helm expertly, turning back on the same course as 'Night Shift', only this time on the opposite side.

As the wind filled the sails, the boat leaped forward. At the same time, 'Luck's sails blocked the wind from 'Night Shift'. Mitch's sails fluttered uselessly.

"Yes!" Gina screamed joyfully as she saw 'Night Shift' slow. In mere moments, 'Luck' was back in front, and with her sails trimmed, she was slowly increasing her lead over 'Night Shift'.

**********

Michelle leaned back in the booth, ignoring the two-thirds of her burger sitting uneaten on her plate. The foursome were the only ones in the diner; by going sailing early, they'd skipped dinner and were now quite famished. Or at least, Michelle thought, as she eyed the remains of her burger, they thought they were hungry. She shook her head. "I didn't know this body had such a small stomach," she muttered. Like her compatriots, Michelle was in her 'street' clothes, which in her case, consisted of a pair of tan shorts and a white polo shirt.

Across the booth, Linda nodded. "Tell me about it," she sighed. Instead of her bright red bikini, she wore something only slightly more modest - a light blue halter top with a darker blue denim skirt that ended far above her knees. Every so often, she shifted as she tried desperately to pull her skirt lower on her legs.

"I can't get used to this stuff," Pam complained softly. The scoop neck on her top displayed bounteous cleavage, while her shorts clung to her rear and hit practically nothing of her legs. She picked up her handbag and dumped one pocket on the table. Lipstick, mascara, a compact ... a variety of items spilled from the little bag, and every one of them associated with female beautification. "Look at this stuff!"

Michelle laughed. "And it looks like you used some of it, too!"

Pam glared at her. "Yeah, well ... I figured I ought to try it."

"And it looks like you did a pretty good job, too!" Gina chimed in.

Gina's outfit was a white sundress, trimmed with white embroidered lace, and sleeves worn off her shoulders. It left no room for a regular bra; she wore a strapless bra under the dress to contain her bounteous bosom. With bared shoulders, billowing fabric covering her boobs, and an elastic gathered waist, she looked quite sexy.

The scowl on Pam's face was a reflection of her feelings. "It's really
weird - I actually knew how to use this ... stuff - like I've been doing it for years!" She shuddered involuntarily. "It’s like my brain was changed!"

Michelle laughed aloud. On the first day, she'd experienced exactly what Pam had described. "The girl at the park - Anya - told me that would happen. It's supposed to make it easier for us to function as women."

"Yeah, maybe," Linda frowned, "but it's still kind of creepy! Like when I know how to put on a bra, or when I automatically sit when I go to the bathroom!"

"Look, it's part of the setup; if you feel strange, then you couldn't have been really changed - not in your mind," Michelle laughed. Her laugh sounded hollow; her experiences had left her with some doubts as well. Still, as skipper, she had to think of the morale of her crew. "Now, if you didn't think it was weird, then you'd have been changed."

"But if we'd been changed that much, would we even remember that we were guys once?" Pam pondered.

"Well," Gina said softly, "I wish the owner of that park would have given us some clothes that were less ... showy!"

That brought a welcome laugh, relief to the discussion about what had and hadn't changed. In truth, Michelle didn't want to think about the magnitude of changes any more than the other girls did - the magic was clearly very powerful, and he was frightened by it.

After a couple of seconds, Pam looked thoughtful. "Well, we didn't do too badly at the end, did we?"

Gina nodded slowly. "Not when it counted, we didn't."

"Yeah," Linda agreed. "We could beat that little shit if we worked hard."

Slowly, Michelle glanced around the table. "So, are we in?"

Gina glanced around and slowly nodded. "Yeah, skipper, if we can beat 'Night Shift' like this, I say we go for it."

Linda and Pam added their assent. "But we're going to need an extra hand or two," Linda added.

"I'd go for two, skipper," Pam offered. "We need the weight on a beam reach, and it would help to have extra hands on the lines."

"Okay. Let's see if we can get them, and tomorrow, I'll get us signed up with our sponsor." She saw the puzzled looks. "Oh, didn't I tell you? I talked to the PR folks at Q-Tech. They thought it would be a great idea to sponsor an all-women's yacht team in the regatta. If we're good, that is." She smiled. "Tomorrow night, we're going to take the VP of the PR group out with us, and if she likes what she sees, we've got the money."

Linda stood and started walking toward the rest room. The others laughed when they heard her cursing - it was obvious that she'd forgotten and accidentally started into the men's room. When she came back, she appeared to be in some discomfort.

"What's wrong?" Michelle asked out of concern.

Linda sat down with heavy sighs. "I hurt in places I didn't know existed," she complained.

"You're sore?" Pam asked incredulously. "You didn't have these monsters," she cupped her large breasts for emphasis, "bouncing around all evening. My straps dug into my shoulders, the muscles that hold these things hurt..."

Then she caught Gina's disapproving stare, and saw the size of Gina's chest in comparison to her own. She bit her lip. "Sorry. I guess I shouldn't really complain if Harry isn't."

Michelle started giggling. "Listen to the two of you," she guffawed. "You're talking just like girls!" She started laughing aloud. For a few seconds, the other girls stared at her, and then they broke into laughter, too.

**********

"So you see my problem," Mike explained patiently. He was sitting on one side of a booth at Ed's. In front of him, a bacon jalapeno cheeseburger was getting cold.

Anya nodded. "And what is it you'd like of me?" she asked warily.

Mike smiled. Straight, to the point. "I need to find a couple of crew members," he explained bluntly.

"And you're wondering if I'd be interested, right?" She saw the look on Mike's face, and knew she'd hit the nail on the head. "Just sailing. You're not trying to come on to me, either, are you?" It was less a question than a statement of fact.

Mike nodded slowly. "If I recall from the way that one guy was hanging around you last time I was at the park, you're already attached." He saw the surprised look on Anya's face. "All I'm interested in is a crew for my boat." He let the words sink in. "Besides," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "we'll all be girls, so it'd be hard for me to come on to you, wouldn't it."

Anya laughed aloud. "Touche." She shook her head. "No, I don't really think I'd like to go sailing, not in a competition, anyway." She saw the disappointment forming on Mike's face. "But I know where you can get a couple of girls who'd love to sail." Mike's face perked up. "Our mechanic used to be in the Navy, and I'm pretty sure she said she used to sail a lot, too."

Mike nodded. "That's one."

"My boyfriend Greg might be interested, too."

"But..."

"You need girls, not guys, right?" Anya grinned. "Well, what do you think you guys started off as?" She pulled a cell phone out of her purse and punched a few numbers. After a very quick conversation, she hung up. "He's at the NRD frat house, so he should be here in a couple of minutes."

As promised, Greg arrived within minutes. Mike sized him up as he slid in beside Anya. He wasn't overly athletic, but he also wasn't the nerd he'd been expecting. "Hi, I'm Greg," he extended his hand and greeted Mike.

Mike shook his hand. "Mike Walker," he replied. There was no hint of jealousy in Greg's voice, nor in his demeanor. Mike was relieved; suspicion on Greg's part could have doomed the whole thing.

"Anya told me you had a proposition." Blunt, just like Anya.

Mike smiled. "You want something to eat while we discuss it?"

Greg shook his head. "Nah. It was pizza night at the house. I'm stuffed."

"My friends and I are sailing my boat in the regatta in a couple of weeks. We're going to be short-handed, so we need to find a couple of extra hands."

Greg glanced at Anya. "Sure," he answered as he looked back at Mike. He seemed puzzled by such a simple request.

Mike shook his head. "Not so fast. You see, we're going to be ... a little different for this race."

"Oh. You're entering a women's crew, and you need your hands to be changed, too."

Mike's jaw dropped. Greg sounded like changing sex to race a sailboat was no different than changing pants. "Uh, yeah," he stammered.

Greg laughed. "I've changed ... well, let's just say I've been in a woman's shoes more times than you'd care to guess," he admitted with a grin. "It's no big deal. Well, sometimes they're a big deal." He grinned and held his hands in front of his chest - way in front - until Anya's elbow dug into his ribs. "Oof!" He glanced at Anya, frowning.

"Would you get serious?" she complained.

Greg nodded sheepishly. "Okay." He turned back to Mike. "It'd be fun to go racing. I assume you're going to want something kind of athletic?"

Mike furrowed his brow in confusion. "I'm not sure I follow you."

Greg glanced quickly at Anya. "You know, the body. Athletic and fit, right?"

Mike's mouth dropped open momentarily. "You talk about a new body like you're shopping from a catalog." He shook his head. "Yeah, that's about right."

Greg grinned. "And the trim package is optional, right? Since it'll just be us girls on the boat?" He winced as another elbow caught him in the ribs.

**********

"Are you Jenny?" Michelle asked hesitantly as she peeked into the pump shack.

A curvy young girl of perhaps twenty, wearing shorts and a halter top and with her long red ponytail disheveled and her face smeared with grime, looked up from the dismantled pump motor. "Who wants to know?" she asked warily.

Michelle winced. Though she looked to be a sweet young thing, the tone of her voice left no doubt that this pump shack was her territory, and woe to anyone who disturbed her domain. "Anya said I might find you here."

The girl's angry glare lessened - a bit. "Yeah? What do you want?"

Michelle felt her jaw drop a fraction. "Are all of you around here so blunt?"

Jenny straightened, and the gaping crevasse of her cleavage, so prominently displayed as she'd been bent over, vanished. "Yeah, more or less," she grinned. "So what can I do for you?"

"I'm trying to get an extra hand for my yacht for the regatta. Anya said you'd been in the Navy and might be interested."

Jenny gazed at Michelle, sizing her up for several quiet moments with only the steady drone of the pumps interrupting the silence inside the hot pump shack. "Are you any good as a skipper?" she finally demanded.

Michelle visibly flinched. "What?"

"Are you any good? Do you know what you're doing?" She walked casually over to Michelle and stood toe-to-toe with her. "And more importantly, can that dainty little body of yours handle a yacht?"

Michelle tried to draw herself up straight, which only had the effect of pushing her breasts out. She wasn't even aware of the result.

Jenny laughed. "You haven't done this very much, have you?"

"What?"

"Changed."

Michelle frowned. "I thought I was ... how can you tell?"

"I don't know. It's the little things, I guess. When you work here as long as I have, and you learn to notice."

"Oh." Michelle thought for a second. "I don't know. You'd have to judge for yourself. My crew thinks I'm okay, I guess."

Jenny laughed again. "Honest. I like that." She picked up a rag and wiped off her hands. "Tell you what. You buy me lunch, and we'll talk about your offer."

**********

"So you think that this scam will help you win?" Jenny was again blunt, almost to the point of being offensive. She sat across from Michelle, studying her lunch companion carefully.

Michelle frowned. Jenny's words _were_ offensive, and deliberately so. "Sure, we'd like to win," she said slowly through a clenched jaw. "Who wouldn't?"

"But?"

Michelle sighed. "I don't know how to explain it." She gazed out the window for a moment, trying to compose her thoughts. "Look, why do you work at the park? Is it because you want to move up through the ranks and take over someday?"

Jenny started, and then she grinned.

Michelle didn't give her a chance to interrupt. "The guys and I have been sailing together for a long time. A very long time. Truth is, if we made it to the top, I don't think we'd have quite as much fun as we do. For us, sailing is the fun part. Competing is the fun part. Winning is frosting."

"Except for 'Night Shift'?"

Michelle started to glare at Jenny for her impertinence, but then she was overcome with the truth of Jenny's words. "Yeah," she finally said. "The only win we all want is to beat Mitch Logan. You know, put him in his place. He's an arrogant little twerp, and it's been kind of...personal. So yeah, we want to beat him. And I've got the only boat that _can_ beat him." She shook her head. "He may be an annoying little vermin, but he's got a good boat and a pretty good crew. But we're better." Michelle tilted her head to one side. "Satisfied with the purity of our motives?"

Jenny laughed aloud. "If you knew how many times I'd been scammed, you'd understand why I had to ask."

Michelle looked puzzled. "That doesn't make any sense. You can't be, what, twenty? Twenty-one? You're talking like you've been around a lot longer." Michelle shook her head. "So, are you interested?"

Jenny raised her eyebrows. "I'm not sure yet. You never answered my other question. _Your_ opinion. Not what your crew thinks."

For a moment, Michelle was confused, but then she remembered. "Oh, am I any good?" She shrugged. "You'd have to ask the guys."

Jenny laughed. "Good answer. Unpretentious, humble. I like it." She grinned. "I don't have to ask. I already know the answer." Jenny watched puzzlement spread over Michelle's features. "To tell the truth, Anya talked to me about it this morning. I took a little time off to check up on you and your mates." Michelle's confusion changed to a mixture of shock and anger. "I've learned, through some tough lessons, that it's best to get as much information as I can before making any decision."

Michelle gawked, open mouthed, for another second, then she nodded slowly, a grin spreading on her pretty face. "Fair enough," she agreed. "So, are _you_ any good on a sailboat?"

Jenny laughed again. "I was wondering if you were going to ask me that." She sipped her diet cola. "I grew up on a farm, which, by the way, is how I got so good at fixing things. Well, you can figure out that a farm in Iowa doesn't have a lot of water around it. I didn't start sailing until after Dad lost the farm and I joined the Navy."

Michelle's eyebrows shot up. "A farm kid ... joining the Navy?"

Jenny smiled. "Sounds kind of funny, doesn't it? Yeah, well, after we lost the farm, I wanted to get as far away from there as I could. I figured the Navy was a good way to go - better than the Army where I might actually get shot at!" She took another sip as she shrugged her shoulders. "Anyway, while I was training, a couple of friends and I started sailing. Mostly we sailed the little things, like the Sunfish type boats. Once, we took a week cruising around the keys on a twenty-five footer. I'm not real good, but I'm not a rookie either." She got a far-off look in her eyes. "Of course, it's been a while since I've been sailing."

Michelle nodded. The fact that Jenny had some experience on a boat was good news; it was going to be tough with one rookie. "How long could it have been? You can't have been out of the service for very long."

Jenny smiled enigmatically. "Probably longer than you'd care to guess." She sat back in the booth. "So, are you going to ask me to join your crew?"

Michelle nearly spilled her soda. "What? Oh, yeah! Of course! I'd be happy to have you on my crew!"

"Glad to be a part of the team," Jenny said warmly. "I assume we're going to be doing some practice for the next couple of weeks?"

Michelle nodded. "Yeah. It'll take some time for us to be able to work together, and Greg has to learn a few things."

"And it's taking the rest of the crew some time to get used to their different bodies, too."

Michelle's jaw dropped in surprise. "How..." she sputtered in astonishment, "how did you know?"

Jenny shrugged and gave a warm smile. "Just a lucky guess." She took another sip of her soda and she set the nearly-empty glass on the table. "Duty calls. I've got to get back to the park," she explained as she stood.

Michelle picked up the receipt. "Sure." They walked out of the café toward Michelle's car.

"A couple of tips," Jenny offered as she climbed in. "One, don't change every day. I'm told that it puts a serious strain on your body, and that it can even get dangerous. Transformation shock, I think I heard Anya call it. Greg said it's pretty painful."

Michelle's eyes widened. "I think she said something about it, but I don't think I was paying attention." She glanced over her shoulder and backed her car out of the parking slot.

Jenny nodded solemnly. "It's very serious. So you're probably going to have to change for the weekend to get in the most practice that you can, and maybe one or two nights during the rest of the week." She'd obviously anticipated Michelle's question.

"Oh, yeah," Michelle answered softly as she dodged through traffic. "I guess since I'm already changed, it won't hurt to go sailing tonight. Meet at my condo at six?"

Jenny nodded. "I'll hitch a ride." She smiled. "I've got a company car I could use, but it just doesn't seem right to use the Boss's car for personal trips."

The ride back to the park was very short. Michelle pulled up beside the turnstile to let Jenny out. "You said you had a couple of tips?" she prompted.

Jenny paused, looking thoughtful. "Oh, yeah," she said as she remembered. "Greg's a good kid. He has a little growing up to do still, but his heart's in the right place. Still, he sometimes gets a little carried away." She read the expression on Michelle's face. "Oh, no!" she quickly added. "He'll do fine sailing. It's just that, well, don't be too surprised at his appearance when he shows up tonight."

**********

Greg was everything Jenny said he'd be ... and more. Much more. When _she_ pried herself out of _her_ car, Michelle's eyes popped wide open, as did those of every guy within three hundred yards. Short, at something around five feet six counting the three-inch heels, with short and very blonde hair, Greg was dressed in a very skimpy bikini that was clearly struggling to contain the enormous breasts on her chest. Michelle frowned - there was something ... familiar ... about Greg's appearance. With a confident and very sexy strut, Greg walked to the dock. "I'm ready," she said in a very sultry voice.

Pam shook her head as she gazed at Greg. "I don't know if you remember, but this isn't a pleasure cruise," she said caustically.

Greg shrugged, sending tremors through her big boobs. "I know. Look, do you have any idea how good of shape the average stripper is in, compared to the average girl?"

Greg's words filled in the missing piece in Michelle's mind. "Traci Topps?" she asked cautiously.

Greg grinned, then spread her arms and spun around in a graceful model twirl. "In the flesh," she answered. "Only I go by Gwen when I'm a girl." She grinned. "Most of the time, anyway!"

Linda sighed. "Those ... things ... are going to get in the way every time you have to pull a line! How do you expect to be useful looking like that?"

Jenny snorted as she gazed at Gwen. She paused on her very large breasts. "At least she brought enough ballast topside," she said sarcastically. The lighthearted observation wiped away Linda's concerned question.

Gwen made a show of adjusting the cups of her bikini and sticking out her chest. "Jealous?" she asked Jenny playfully. In response, Jenny threw a towel at her.

"Okay," Michelle said in a commanding tone, "that's enough. It's time to get serious." She frowned and glanced around. "Wasn't Anya going to come along for the ride?"

Gwen shook her head. "Nah, she said she didn't want to be a distraction."

Jenny snorted again. "Yeah, she probably figured your two distractions were more than enough!"

**********

Surprisingly, at least to Michelle, Gwen - even with her ultra-curvy body - was doing very well. Her enthusiasm and ability to follow directions and work hard more than made up for her inexperience; within two hours, she was starting to anticipate Michelle's commands as the boat maneuvered.

"We're losing daylight. Let's head in," Michelle called out as she spun the wheel. The boat settled down on a leisurely broad reach.
Gwen watched the movement, then grabbed for the lines to trim the jib. "Let it be," Michelle said lightly. "We're done working for the night."

Gwen glanced at her, and then nodded slowly as she blushed.

"It's okay to be enthusiastic," Linda said with a laugh. "But even _we_take a break from time to time."

"What do you think, skipper?" Pam asked the question on everyone's mind.

Michelle shrugged. "How about we find out what _you_ think," she prompted in an open-ended question of her crew. She was clearly reserving her judgment until she heard from the others.

Linda glanced around. "I think we're a lot better than we were the other night," she said. "The extra hands help, as long as we don't get in each others' way," she added, glancing sharply at Gwen.

Pam nodded. "If we'd been sailing like this for two hours the other night, I think we'd have been pretty tired. With the extra hands, I think we're doing pretty well." She glanced around. "The extra bodies really help on the beam reach. A lot more than I thought it would."

Jenny laughed. "Yeah, well, the five of us probably weigh about what the three of you used to. Comes out about even."

Gina nodded solemnly. "Yeah, I'd say we did a good job. Except for the mix-ups on the tacking."

"And that one jibe really sucked." Linda was practically glaring at Gwen. Gwen, for her part, noticed the venom in her voice and the anger in her gaze, and she was squirming uncomfortably.

Michelle noticed the accusatory look. "Look, Linda, you get someone new and you tell her to tighten the downhaul without telling her which line is the downhaul, and what do you expect?" Gwen caught the slight rebuff Michelle gave Linda. She was pretty sure the others had noticed as well. She also noticed how Michelle had referred to Gwen as 'her'.

"You haven't said much, skipper," Pam noted.

Michelle smiled. "We've got a few rough spots," she admitted. "Frankly," she added with a wry smile, "I think we're doing a hell of a lot better than I expected. On the whole, I think we'll be in good shape for the race." She watched the smiles of her crew, letting them feel good for a few moments. "On the other hand, we didn't fly the spinnaker tonight."

Pam winced, remembering the difficulty they'd had the last time the girls had tried to sail with the balloon-like spinnaker. She glanced at the sun setting on the horizon. "Are we going to try it tonight, to see how we do?"

Michelle followed Pam's glance, then she shook her head. "The winds are going to be dying down in a bit. I think we should head in. We can try the spinnaker tomorrow night."

Gwen bit her lip. "Tomorrow?"

"Problem?" Linda asked in a harsh, confrontational tone.

Gwen ignored Linda. "Remember what Anya said about transformation shock," she reminded Michelle. "Trust me - you don't want to go there."

Gina looked more than a bit worried. "It's bad?"

Gwen nodded, her countenance very solemn. "It's agony during a change. Once it starts, you can't change for a long time. A very long time."

"I take it you've been through it," Linda observed softly. Like the others, she looked uneasy.

"Yup," Gwen confirmed. "Once you start having the pain, you've got to stop changing."

"Or?"

"Or it can injure you. Leave you stuck, maybe in between." She shook her head. "I had to stay in a body a little more ... exotic ... than this for almost three weeks before it was safe to change back."

Gwen’s words were sobering to the girls. Michelle's slight course change caught the attention of the crew. Linda perked up and glanced around.

The 'Luck' had been overtaking another boat, and now, Michelle had to maneuver to avoid the slower yacht. The boat they were coming upon was a much larger two-masted yacht that currently had her sails stowed and was moving under power of her motor. The legend on her transom read 'Pleasure Island'.

"Thirty-five foot ketch?" Jenny asked out of curiosity.

"At least, and a custom job to boot," Linda said. She let her gaze drift over the vessel, taking in the lines and details of the boat. "I haven't seen them before, have you?"

Gina shook her head. "Nope. Think they're tourists? Or here for the race?"

Michelle shrugged. "Don't know. But they're sailing like tourists."

The crew laughed. "Besides, even if they are here for the race, they're not in our class," Linda added.

Gina shook her head slowly. "Damn, they've let her go to hell, haven't they?"

"Waste of a good ship," Pam agreed.

Gwen frowned. "I don't get it. The boat looks pretty nice to me."

Michelle laughed. "Look at the way they've secured the sails. Not very neat. The sails - what I can see of them, anyway - look kind of ragged." She pointed to the mainmast. "And look at the standing rigging. It's loose."

Gina nodded in agreement. "And look at the wood." The larger boat was wooden, unlike the fiberglass hull of 'Luck'.

As Gwen looked closer, she could see what Gina was talking about. The lower hull was painted dark green, with a white upper hull, but the paint was clearly chipped. The deck and trim were varnished, and even from a distance, Gwen could see that the wood seemed weathered and grayed.

Jenny shook her head. "I don't know much about the hull or the rigging, but that engine is missing on at least one cylinder." She shook her head more. "Stupid punks. Can't even take care of a simple engine."

The newcomer made a sloppy course adjustment, and Michelle was forced to correct her own course. "Ahoy, Pleasure Island," she called in a surprisingly strong voice.

The crew of the 'Pleasure Island' spun as one, all startled by the sound of Michelle's voice. They were positively surprised at being overtaken, but their surprise quickly changed. "Ahoy," one of the guys called pleasantly. "Thanks for the warning - I was about to turn." He grinned wickedly. "Although, I have to admit that bumping into a boatful of beauties wouldn't be all bad!"

Michelle clenched her jaw at the boorish comment. "Idiots!" she muttered under her breath.

"Hey," another guy called, "do you girls need any help sailing your little boat?" He tilted something to his mouth; Gwen figured it was a beer.

"No thanks," Michelle said through gritted teeth. "I think we can handle our little boat just fine."

Michelle was about to add some very caustic comments when Gwen brushed her shoulder. "Let me handle this," Gwen said softly. As the other girls watched, frozen in astonishment and curiosity, Gwen crawled up on the deck, carefully holding one of the shroud lines for balance, her large bosom strategically thrust out for emphasis and struggling to get free of the tiny bikini cups holding the mammoth breasts.

On 'Pleasure Island', the guys suddenly crowded to the rail, their eyes fixed on Gwen and her huge round tits. "Hey, gorgeous!" a guy called, "you want to sail on a real ship?"

Gwen grinned and jiggled her chest. "You mean, like go sailing with some real men on a real yacht?"

"Yeah!" Nearly all the guys joined the chorus.

Gwen smiled, jiggling a bit more. "You know, I'd be ever so grateful if some real men would take me out sailing. Sailing is, like, fun, but it'd be even _more_ fun with some men as company." The guys on 'Pleasure Island' were practically drooling, and Gwen wiggled her butt, then she carefully cupped one breast with her free hand. She had a pouty, come-hither look on her face as she put on her show, and the guys were anticipating getting to know this buxom lady much better. Gwen straightened and grinned. "I'll tell you what," she said, slowly, "If you guys find a real boat crewed by real men, please let me know so I can go sailing with them." She tilted his head in a very snooty gesture. "I don't sail with spoiled rich kiddies on broken down barges!" She climbed slowly back down to the cockpit, then turned one last time. With a defiant grin, she pulled her top down, exposing her bare boobs. "Take a good look, kiddies. When you grow up, maybe some woman will let you play with boobies as nice as these!"

As 'Pleasure Island' fell slowly behind 'Luck', her crew fuming and cursing at the serious humiliation they'd taken from 'Luck', Gwen accepted the high-fives from the other girls.

Linda shook her head in disbelief. "That was amazing!" she acknowledged. "How did you learn to do that?"

Gwen blushed. "Anya taught me.

"You must spend a lot of time as a girl to have learned that," Gina observed. There was something in her voice that Gwen couldn't quite understand.

Gwen shrugged, but Jenny put her hand on Gwen shoulder. "Go ahead, Gwen. Tell them."

Gwen glanced at Jenny, studying her expression to understand the sudden compulsion to discuss their private lives. Finally, she nodded slowly. "I guess it's one or two days every other week," she acknowledged.

"Why?" Gina's question was simple, direct, and echoed the thoughts of the other girls.

Gwen shrugged. "I don't know. The first time - I guess I was curious. After that, well, I got kind of caught up in some personal things." Her voice faded, and her eyes got a far-off look. After a second or two of staring at the horizon, she shrugged again. "Now, I guess it's just for fun. I do some consulting work for the Boss, so I have to change to go in the park." She grinned. "Sometimes, it's fun to spend a girl's day with Anya."

Jenny laughed. "And sometimes, you do it for a prank with that goofball fraternity of yours!"

Gwen blushed anew. "Yeah, I guess we do get carried away sometimes."

Jenny's eyebrows raised, then she cupped her hands way out in front of her body. "Yeah, like the time you guys went to the Halloween party as a bunch of Dolly Parton clones? Or the time you wanted to see if Zena Fulsom's boobs could possibly be real?" Jenny glanced at the other girls, her eyes leaking tears of mirth. "_That_ was funny! She could barely move for the beanbags hanging on her chest!" She ignored Gwen glare. "Or how about the time..."

Gwen slapped Jenny. "Hush," she scolded

"So, why do you _really_ do it?" Pam asked.

Gwen half-smiled. "I guess it's fun," she finally admitted.

"Fun?" Michelle's astonishment was genuine.

"Yeah." Gwen started to dance slowly, her motions becoming more erotic and sexy as she caressed her boobs. Slowly, she stripped off her bra, fondling her tits to the imaginary music. After a couple of minutes, she stopped, gazing at the others with a shy smile. "It's fun to see how the other half lives. It's fun to take frat guys for suckers and get free drinks and dinner for a hell of a lot less than the show I just gave you!"

Gina looked thoughtful for a second. "Have you ever … you know?"

Gwen flushed crimson and looked down.

Jenny punched her arm. "Come on, Greg … er, Gwen. Tell them," she urged.

"Yeah," Gwen answered softly without looking up. If anything, she was even redder than a moment before.

“That’s … disgusting!" Pam screamed. "Gross!" She scowled at Gwen, her features contorted in a mixture of anger and revulsion.

"How could you … do it?" Michelle asked. Her voice carried nearly identical emotions as Pam's, which was to say nearly hysterical outrage and disgust.

"Did you … like it?" Gina asked softly.

Gwen nodded softly. "It's … different," she admitted softly. "It's kind of … nice." She glanced up, taking in the expressions of the girls around her. "With the right person, I mean."

Jenny noted the looks of the crew and hastily decided to intervene. “She means with Anya."

"Oh," Pam said, sighing with audible relief. "So you haven't done it with a guy, then."

"Does that mean that, as a girl, you're a lesbian?" Gina's question was logical, given the direction of the conversation.

Jenny laughed. "The park can only change guys into girls. But Anya can do a lot more. She can turn herself into a guy, if she wants." She saw the looks of revulsion, temporarily banished when the girls thought Gwen had only had sex with another girl, return.

"Besides," Gwen said defensively, changing the subject to get past the issue, "when I'm a girl, I learn things that help me understand Anya better." She saw the stares of disbelief. "Like, why does it take a girl so long to get ready to go out? I didn't get that until I changed and had to do my own hair and makeup, and pick out an outfit."

"And make sure your shoes match," Jenny added with a laugh.

For reasons known to Gwen and Jenny because of their various experiences, this particular line of conversation was getting very awkward. Gwen decided to change the subject. "You called that other boat a, what? A ketch?"

Michelle laughed. "Yeah, it's a ketch."

Gwen wrinkled her cute little nose. "I've never heard that term before. I've heard of a schooner, but never a ketch." She shook his head. "What's the difference?"

Linda smiled. "A schooner is a two-masted ship. So is a ketch. The difference is in which mast is taller." She saw immediately, in the fading sunlight, that Gwen didn't understand the subtle difference. "On a schooner, the foremast is shorter than the aft mast. On a ketch, it's the other way around."

"Oh." It was clear that Gwen really didn't understand.

Michelle laughed. "Look, if you're enjoying sailing, you can probably take a class at the college, or at the yacht club. A proper course will teach you about all these nautical terms we throw about so lightly."

Gwen scowled a bit. "Maybe. If I can ever get to the point where I can go out without having to take Dramamine first." She wrinkled her nose. "Maybe it's just this body, but I don't think I'd have made it without the Dramamine."

Gina laughed lightly. "It's not just that body. It takes most people a while to get past seasickness."

"Yeah, but a guy doesn't look as undignified hanging over the railing feeding fish," Jenny commented dryly. "We have to worry about wearing the right outfit to puke in!" She let the others laugh at her observation. "Guys have it a _lot_ easier!" she added.

"How would you know?" Pam asked quickly.

Michelle, on the other hand, had a curious, knowing smile on her face, as if she'd already guessed what Jenny's little comment meant.

Jenny bit her lip, pausing as if she'd already said too much. But Gwen clasped her shoulder. "Your turn," she said softly.

Jenny glanced around at the suddenly curious looks, and then she looked down. For a few seconds, she stared at the deck, before she looked back up at Michelle. "You said that it couldn't have been long since I'd gotten out of the Navy, right?" She saw Michelle nod. "Well, I did a tour in 'Nam." The looks of bewilderment changed to outright astonishment. "Yeah, 'Nam. I used be a fifty-something handyman who couldn't hold down a job. Then I met the Boss, and she gave me a permanent job."

"But..."

Michelle's Cheshire-cat grin just broadened. "I was right," she said with just a hint of triumph in her voice.

Jenny laughed. "Yeah, I had to trade in my Y chromosome," she admitted. "But in return, I got back a lot of years, and I got a great job." She glanced around. "And no, I haven't 'done it'. I don't like guys." Jenny shrugged. "So to me, it's just a change of body so I could get a great job." She laughed again. "It's been a long time since I changed, and I think of myself as a girl now."

Slowly, the awkwardness abated, and then the questions for both Gwen and Jenny came. Jenny noted, with raised eyebrow, that Gina seemed to be the least judgmental and the most sympathetic of the guys. Even after they docked and secured the boat for the night, Gina kept talking with Jenny, even to the point of offering Jenny a ride home so they could keep talking.

**********

Michelle flopped heavily on the sofa. Her hair was windblown, a tangled mess, and her face and arms showed the effects of long exposure to the sun, the salt spray, and the wind. Every muscle in her body seemed to be afire with fatigue and pain. A contented sigh escaped her lips as she reveled in the soft cushions.

"You said it," Gina answered from the other end of the sofa, where she, too, reclined.

Gwen sprawled on her back on the floor. Her body, though very feminine like the others, was not nearly as curvy as her first sailing outing. "If you guys are half as tired as I am ..."

Linda sat in an overstuffed chair, resting with her eyes closed and saying nothing. Pam sat on the floor leaning against a wall. Only Jenny seemed nonplussed by the arduous workout. "Anyone else want a beer?" she called as she poked her head into the fridge.

Pam glanced at Gwen. "How the hell can she do that?" she asked in amazement. "I mean, like we've been sailing most of our lives and we're all pooped!" She shook her head. "I even asked Anya to make sure I had a very athletic body this time!"

Gwen laughed. "For you and me, this is for a few hours or a couple of days. For Jenny, it's permanent." She saw the eyebrows raise, and laughed again. "Look, you and I - we're not used to these bodies, right?"

Linda snorted. "That's for sure," she said. Her voice carried more than a hint of anger.

Gwen noted Linda's mood and decided to ignore it. "Jenny's change is permanent. She's _used_ to her body. She knows what to do and what not to do."

"I don't understand," Gina said, wrinkling her nose. "That sounds like word games."

Michelle tilted her head forward. "I think I do," she said slowly. Her head turned toward Pam. "Think about pulling a sheet to trim a sail. How do you do it?"

Linda sat up. "Yeah," she said, her eyes widening. "Come to think of it, I'm still working like I'm in my old body."

Gwen smiled. "Exactly. Only, in these bodies, your muscle groups aren't the same. Women don't have the same upper body strength as men, regardless of how athletic your body is. Where we pull with our arms and upper bodies because that's how we're used to doing it, Jenny has learned to use her whole body, to apply the muscles she _does_ have to compensate for where she's weaker. So she gets the same tasks done, but without wearing herself out in the process."

Gina and Pam shook their heads. "That doesn't make sense," Pam retorted.

Gwen sighed. "You've never seen Jenny at work in the park. She hauls around pumps and motors that would be a challenge for a lot of men. And it's not because she has more upper body strength. It's because she's learned to intelligently use the strength that she has."

Linda perked up. "And we can kind of control the change? Like you did the other day with the huge knockers?" She glanced at Gwen. Seeing Gwen's nod, she smiled and turned to Michelle. "So the next time we change, we can get more athletic bodies, right? With more strength?"

Michelle's mouth dropped open, then she closed it. For several quiet moments, she thought. "No," she finally said. "Anya said our changes are just genetic. We're the girls we would have been born as." She shook her head. "If we get our bodies enhanced, it kind of seems like cheating."

"Hell, skipper," Pam piped in firmly, "the only reason we're even _in_ the race is because we got changed. Isn't that cheating?"

Michelle sighed. "If we win, we're going to win as normal girls. Not as some kind of wonder women." She sank back into her chair. "I don't want to win if we have to cheat to do it." A pall of silence descended over the room.

"I'm hungry," Gina said, abruptly changing the subject. "What have you got to eat?"

Michelle shook her head. "I thought we'd send out for a pizza." At that moment the doorbell rang.

"That was fast," Gwen commented dryly, as she levered herself off the floor to answer the door.

It wasn't pizza, but rather Anya. She walked into Michelle's condo with a bounce that sharply contrasted with Gwen’s weary plod. "How did it go today?" she asked cheerfully. She glanced around the room at the sprawled, seemingly lifeless bodies. "Sheesh, it looks like I walked into a war zone."

Gwen smiled weakly as she pulled up a chair for Anya. "We're pretty beat."

Anya glanced around again. "That's an understatement," she said as she shook her head.

"We're just going to send out for pizza," Michelle said, trying to sit up. That effort drew a few grunts and groans, and she slumped back into the couch. "As soon as one of us has the strength, that is."

Anya smiled. "Nope. No pizza. You've been working so hard for the past week and a half, I thought I'd treat you to dinner at Mi Casa."

Gina's eyes opened wide. "That's the new Tapas place, right?" Anya nodded.

Pam glanced at Gwen. “Does she treat you like this all the time?"

Gwen grinned. "Yup."

Pam shook her head. "If you ever decide to break up, let me know."

Gwen’s grin widened. "Sorry, but I don't think she likes small-chested redheads!"

Anya's mouth dropped open, and then she sputtered, "Greg!" as she threw a soft pillow at her, purposefully using her true name. Around them, the weary mood lightened at Gwen’s self-deprecating humor.

"So, are you gals going to get ready so we can go out?" Anya asked after the laughter and joking had died down.

Wearily, Michelle, Pam, and Gina pried themselves up. "Sounds like a plan," Pam said as she stretched. She winced as her fatigued muscles protested against the stretching.

Linda stood just as slowly. "That means going out in public," she said carefully. She shook her head. "No. Huh, uh."

"Come on," Michelle urged her. "It'll be fun."

Linda shook her head, more vigorously this time. "No. Look, going out on the boat is one thing. Going out in public? No." She grabbed her duffel bag. "I'm just going to get some fast food on the way home." Avoiding the stunned gazes of her crewmates, she practically raced out the door, closing it softly behind her.

**********

Gina grabbed another of the extraordinarily tasty morsels from the tray. "I don’t understand the whole thing. I mean," she glanced at Gwen and Jenny, "you two act like it's no big deal. But it's so...weird!" At Anya's prodding, she and the others had taken the time to get 'dolled up'; Gina's short hair really only had the one style, nicely framing her face with its light waves, but still exposing her earlobes with their simple gold hoops. A simple sleeveless yellow blouse was loose enough to not advertise her bosom, but tight enough to look neat. Khaki shorts and a pair of sandals completed her simple yet alluring ensemble.

Jenny gave Anya a sideways glance, and shrugged. "I've had a little time to get used to it. And some great support."

“I still don’t get why Linda didn’t want to join us,” Pam observed between bites of the tasty morsels.

"It's very simple," Anya replied. "Linda's having a problem with this."

Pam's brow wrinkled, displaying to the world her confusion. "But it doesn't make sense. Why don’t some guys have a problem, when others do?" She suppressed a shudder. "I don't get it. We've always been a team. A good sailing team."

Anya sighed. "It's not the sailing," she explained. "Greg, you know what I'm talking about, right?" She glanced at the ceiling, as if she'd find the right words to explain. After a brief moment, she looked back at her tablemates. "For you guys, this is all about sailing, right?" She watched the furtive glances of puzzlement, the nodes of assent. "So if being a woman for a few hours or few days is what it takes to compete, well, so what. Am I right?"

"Yeah, well, that's the way it's always been!" Gina protested. "It's all about racing."

Anya shook her head. "So you can put aside the difference in your sex by focusing on your racing. Some guys can't, though. It's..."Not to Linda. It's ... well, changing is too ... " She wrinkled her brow, trying to figure out the right words.

"Too intrusive, too personal," Gwen finished for her. She glanced around the table. "Like it was for me ... at first. But the other way." She saw the confusion. "Now, it's okay to change. I'm comfortable with me, with who I am." She felt Anya's hand on her arm and she smiled. "But the first time, I kind of got obsessed with changing. I was changing way too much. It was because of some deep personal issues." He stole a glance at Anya. "Now that I've got them resolved, changing is no big deal."

Gina nodded slowly. "So what you're saying is that some guys, especially the macho types who have some kind of fixation with what's between their legs - those kinds of guys have problems?"

Anya ignored the sputtering guffaws around her. "That's one way of putting it."

Jenny glanced around, noting how slowly the girls were eating. They were nearly full. "You want to go to the Coconut Club?" she asked hopefully.

The look of shock on Michelle's face said a mouthful. "Are you serious?" she finally stammered.

Jenny smiled. "Sure. It's a great club."

Pam glanced at Gina, worry on her face. "Yeah, but there are guys there. And they might try to, you know, pick us up!"

Anya glanced at Greg, and then she smiled. "You'll be with a couple of pros."

Jenny nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. We'll make sure you don't lose your virginity."

Gwen grinned. "Unless it's with one of us, that is!" she added with a wicked laughing grin. She barely dodged Anya's sharp elbow.

Michelle finally nodded. "I guess it wouldn't hurt. It's a great club, too!" She glanced at Pam and Gina. "A couple of weeks ago, I met a couple of really hot …” She stopped as she read the expressions on her compatriots.

"Like you are now?" Pam chortled.

Michelle's mouth dropped open as she realized what she had said. Her cheeks burned red. "Oops," she said sheepishly. Her embarrassment gave way to amusement at what she'd nearly said, and she joined the others in laughter.

**********

"Watch and learn, oh ye amateurs!" Jenny said mockingly at Michelle, Pam, and Gina. Her expression changed, altering in a fraction of a second from plain girl to sex kitten. She let her eyes drift just a fraction of an inch shut, giving her 'bedroom eyes'. She pursed her lips just a tiny bit, parting them to appear breathy and ready to kiss. With those and a couple of other subtle alterations in her posture, she became an object of men's desires. With a pronounced and very sexy wiggle, she sauntered over to the bar, leaning strategically against the bar so guys could see her every curve. In mere moments, she had a guy talking to her. Another few seconds and she had him heading for the dance floor.

Gina wrinkled her nose. "It looks like she's enjoying that!" she shouted so the others would hear her over the loud music.

Gwen nodded. "She's a pro."

Pam swallowed hard as she watched Jenny. "How can she wear ... _that_ shirt?"

Anya laughed. "It's called a blouse, Pam," she corrected. "What about it? It's just a simple little blouse."

"But it's so ... so ... I don't know!" Michelle protested.

"Sexy?" Anya asked.

"Yeah."

Anya shook her head. "It's not the blouse. It's what's in it." She noted the confused looks on Pam, Michelle, and Gina. "It's a simple little knit blouse, right? Scoop neck, but I'm sure you've seen - and drooled over - lower cut blouses. Right?" She saw the girls glance among themselves and then sheepishly nod. "White - which means most guys would love to see it get wet in hope of seeing a nipple. Part of the allure, right _Gwen_?"

Gwen’s eyes had been checking out the action in other parts of the club, and her surprise at being addressed was evident. "Huh? Oh, yeah. White blouse. Yeah."

Anya shook her head. "Go back to looking. Won't do you much good, though. Not in _that_ body."

Gwen scowled. "I was _not_ checking out babes!" she protested, before she returned to watching the club's patrons.

"But she looks so … big!" Gina protested.

Anya laughed. "Push-up bra. A bit of cleavage goes a long way."

"Yeah, but she's _enjoying_ it!" Pam complained. Gina and Michelle caught her glancing down to her own chest, as if comparing. She had a modest white button blouse with light floral print, buttoned high enough and loose enough to reveal nothing. She looked like an old maid in comparison to Jenny.

"And her shorts? They couldn't be much shorter, could they?" Michelle observed. Unlike Pam, Michelle seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to observe. She compared herself to Jenny. She turned to Anya. "What about me? Do I look that … sexy?"

Anya glanced at Michelle. Michelle was still wearing her light blue one-piece swimsuit, the spandex stretched tight across her moderate breasts. Only the built-in bra cups hid the tiny nubs of her nipples, leaving at least something to the imagination of the guys. Michelle's skirt was the matching piece - a wrap with a slit side and six-inch wide navy and white stripes at the hem. She looked smart but casual. Without realizing it, Michelle was showing one tanned curvy leg through the side slit. Her sandy blonde hair was loose, swept behind her ears on each side. White and blue enameled floral earrings and pendant completed Michelle's simple yet surprisingly effective ensemble. Anya shrugged. "Not in the same way."

"Oh." Michelle sounded a little … disappointed.

Anya laughed. "Here she comes now. Why don't you talk to her about how she's dressed?"

"Talk to who?" Jenny asked, having overheard the last few words. She glanced around at the gals, at the faces staring bewildered at her. "Oh. You must be talking about me, right?" She swiveled her head. "Just a sec." With a warm smile and playful flip of her red ponytail, she acknowledged the guy she'd been dancing with as the cocktail waitress delivered a tray of drinks. "Thanks, Kelly," she said to the waitress as she set the drinks on the table.

Pam shook her head. "How do you do that?" she asked, her tone echoing her genuine astonishment.

Jenny shrugged and smiled. "Practice, dear. Practice."

"Doesn't it … weird you out?" Michelle asked.

Jenny laughed. "It used to. Now … well, let's say I've had plenty of time to adjust." She glanced back at the bar. "Anya, Gwen’s getting kind of frisky."

Anya glanced, and then she grinned. "You two aren't going to have another contest, are you?" She turned to Michelle and Pam. "Last time these two got together, they had a contest to see who could bum the most drinks. They were both hammered by the time I took them home."

"Who won?" Gina asked innocently.

Jenny scowled. "I would have," she complained. "If Gwen hadn't looked like Jenna Jamison." She glanced at Anya. "If she wants to have another contest, at least it'll be a fair one tonight." At Anya's insistence, Gwen’s body was really toned down from the first time Michelle and the crew had met her. She had a pretty average build. Only her selection of clothing - short skirt, a push-up bra, and a tight sleeveless blouse - made her appear sexier than most of the girls in the club.

Anya looked at Pam, Michelle, and Gina again. "They were so drunk, I had to drive them home. And then they started …”

"Anya!" Jenny protested loudly as she slapped Anya's arm. "You promised you wouldn't tell." Michelle and Gina perked up, waiting to hear more of what promised to be a really juicy story. Anya, though, let it drop.

Pam shook her head. "Well, when I was coming back from the restroom, a couple of guys asked me to dance." She shuddered. "It was so … weird!"

"Getting hit on is definitely not on my list of fun things," Michelle agreed. "Don't get me wrong - this is fun. But I could never get used to doing this all the time."

Gina turned to Jenny. "Can you show me how you do it?" she asked simply, much to the surprise of everyone. She saw the stares of disbelief. "Well," she protested quickly, "I've always been the guy buying the drinks and played for a dope! I want to see how easy it is on the other side!"

Anya watched Jenny and Gina walk toward the bar. "So," she said to Pam and Michelle, "who's going to try dancing first?" She saw their shocked expressions, then she grinned. "Look, there are a couple of nice boys from Greg's fraternity here. I know they'll treat you nicely. So why don't you try?" The two girls looked at each other nervously, each trying to find the words to back out of Anya's challenge, and yet hoping the other would chicken out first. With a smile, Anya half-stood and waved to Greg's fraternity brothers, knowing that her tablemates had enough machismo left that neither would chicken out first, and thus, both would get to try a little dancing as women.

**********

The sound of the key turning in the door was a full assault on Gwen’s ears. Slowly, painfully, she reached up and covered them in a vain attempt to shut out the noise. And even that motion, judging from her reaction, was an unpleasant adventure in pain. The sound of the door slamming jarred her thoroughly. "Would you please be quiet," she hissed as she clasped at her throbbing temples.

Gina and Jenny winced. "Sorry," Gina apologized.

Gwen glanced around. "Where ... where am I?" she asked uncertainly. One thing was certain - she was still in the female body and sexy clothing from the night before. She was wearing only a bra and a pair of panties, and her hair was thoroughly mussed from sleeping on the couch.

Gina glanced at Jenny, and then she grinned. "You're at Michelle's place," she giggled. She stepped to the curtains and pulled them open to let some light into the dim room. It wasn't terribly bright, but it was a lot easier to see than before.

Between the pulses of pain coursing through her cranium, aggravated by the stabbing light, Greg glanced at the two girls. Gina was dressed conservatively in a white skirt and a navy blue knee-length skirt. Her hair was done modestly, giving her a wholesome girl-next-door appearance.

"Lightweight," Jenny chuckled. Unlike Gina, Jenny was a little more provocative in her dress. A sleeveless light pink blouse with a scoop neck showed off some cleavage, and her dark pink short shorts seemed to be painted on her curvy hips. Her hair was done up with a barrette on each side, her hair sweeping in soft curves off her face and ending in soft curls on her shoulders. She was wearing light makeup, which added a bit of elegance and allure to her features. It was a marked change, Greg saw, from her usual sweaty, greasy appearance.

Greg pulled himself up off the couch where he'd been sleeping. "You started it," he said defensively.

Gina laughed. "I seem to remember you being the challenger," she said through her grin. "And from the way you look, you lost big time."

"Who lost?" The trio turned to the sound of the new voice, although Greg's head turned slowest to minimize his pain. It was Michelle, standing in only her panties in the bedroom doorway. She glanced at Gina and Jenny, both bright-eyed, in fresh outfits, and made up for the day. Her eyebrows raised, but she kept her comments to herself. Gina glanced down, clearly embarrassed by the sight of Michelle's bare breasts.

"Greg lost," Jenny explained.

Greg frowned. "You left early," he complained. Indeed, Jenny had left the club early - to give Gina a ride home.

Jenny smiled innocently. "A girl has to know when to quit."

Michelle shook her head and stared at Gina. "It looked like you were having a good time last night."

Gina tried to appear that she didn't know what Michelle was talking about, but her red cheeks gave her away. Finally, she smiled and shrugged. "It was kind of fun," she admitted sheepishly. Then her eyes narrowed. "As if you should be talking."

It was Michelle's turn to feign innocence. "What?"

Jenny grinned. "You were having a good time dancing with Bert," she said in mocking accusation. "At least it looked like you were!"

Michelle quickly weighed her options - deny or confront. Since everyone had seen her, denial seemed to be out of the question. "So what?" she asked firmly. "It wasn't like I was doing anything but dancing and getting some free drinks." She glanced at the clock as an excuse to change the subject. "We'd better get down to the dock so we can get a good day's practice."

Greg moaned. "Can't we get a little more sleep?" he protested weakly. The look on Michelle's and Gina's faces gave him the answer he needed. He sighed heavily as he slowly swung her legs to the floor. "That's what I thought."

"I'm going to get ready," Michelle said as she spun back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Gwen sighed again as she tried to stand. "I don't suppose either of you has an aspirin," she muttered.

Jenny shrugged. "I've got something." She sat down in one of the stuffed chairs and started rummaging in her purse. After a few seconds, she pulled out a small pill bottle and extracted a couple of white tablets. "Here."

Gwen glanced at them, then nodded and slogged to the kitchen. As she gulped down the pills, she glanced at Jenny again. "What are these?" she asked warily.

"Midol," Jenny answered with a grin.

Gwen shook his head. "Figures," she muttered.

Gina looked puzzled. "Is that some kind of inside joke?"

Jenny laughed. "Yeah, I guess so. You haven't been in that body long enough to experience your ... um ... monthly ... event."

Gina frowned, then she realized exactly what Jenny was talking about. She blushed and looked down.

Jenny laughed again at Gina's embarrassment. "Look, it's just us girls here, right?" She waited until Gina looked back up at her. "Girls talk about these things, you know. Just like guys talk about their conquests and stuff."

A knock on the door saved Gina further potential embarrassing questions. As Gwen flinched from the noise, Gina opened the door. "Oh, hi," she said, as she recognized Pam.

"Oh, hi?" Pam asked, as she stepped out of the bright morning light. "That's all the greeting I get? Oh, hi?" Like Gina and Jenny, Pam was cleaned up and ready for the day. She was wearing a pair of navy shorts and a white T-shirt; the vibrant colors of her bikini top were unmistakable through the thin cotton of the shirt. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, revealing a small pair of gold hoop earrings.

Gwen sighed as her head pounded again. "Is everyone here so loud in the morning?"

Jenny laughed. "Someone is a bit grumpy this morning. Maybe it's her time of month?"

Gwen frowned. "Who gave who the Midol for the hangover?"

Gina grinned at Greg. "Oh, so _now_ you admit you're hung over, huh?"

Gwen shook her head slowly, flinching from the throbbing. "Look, if we're going out sailing, I need to go home and get cleaned up and get some new clothes."

Gina and Pam shook their heads. "That'll take too long. Borrow something from Michelle." They physically guided her toward Michelle's bedroom, opened it, and shoved him in.

As Pam sat down on the now-vacant couch, she glanced around. "Where's Linda?" she asked simply.

Jenny and Gina shrugged. "She was supposed to meet us here," Gina replied. "Maybe she decided to sleep in."

"Maybe," Pam acknowledged, although she sounded far from convinced. She pulled herself back off the couch. "I'm going to give her a call, just to make sure." She picked up the phone and rapidly dialed a number. "Oh, hi, Shelly," Pam said into the phone. "Is Linda around?" She frowned. "No, she isn't here." Slowly, she nodded. "Yeah, she said she was pretty tired last night. That's why she didn't go out with us." Another nod. "Oh. Did you enjoy it?" Pam sighed. "Okay. We should be down at the boat in a few minutes. If she's not there, I'll call back." She hung up the phone.

"Trouble?" Gina asked instantly.

Pam bit her lower lip as her forehead wrinkled. "I'm not sure. Shelly and Linda went out clubbing last night. Shelly said Linda got a little sauced and wasn't feeling too good, but that she said she'd meet us at the boat."

Gina frowned. "That doesn't sound right."

Jenny nodded solemn agreement. Even though she'd only known the girls for a couple of weeks, it just didn't sound right. "She _really_ didn't sound like she wanted to go out in public," she observed.

"Is Shelly up to something?" Pam asked cautiously. "Maybe she and Linda...."

Gina shook her head. "That doesn't sound right, either. I guess we'll have to wait until we see her to find out."

* * * * *

Michelle gave the rope one last tug, just to make sure the boat was secured to the dock, then she straightened and turned to the others. "It's still kind of early. Anyone want to go out for dinner or something?"

Linda frowned. "Nah. I think I'll just go home." She picked up her pink duffel bag and strode up the dock. "I'll talk to you guys tomorrow," she called over her shoulder.

Anya, having gone along for the ride, shrugged. "I've got to open in the morning. So I think I'll pass."

Jenny nodded. "I've got a weekend's worth of maintenance to catch up on. I'll pass, too." She picked up her duffel bag. "Gwen, you want a ride?" she asked Gwen teasingly.

Gwen grinned, only to catch an elbow from Anya. "Jenny, quit trying to hit on Gwen, okay?" She took Gwen firmly by the arm. "She's with me, got it?" She turned to Michelle. "Thanks," she said warmly. "It was a lot of fun."

"Fun?" Gwen asked mockingly. "All you had to do was sit and look pretty. We were the ones doing all the work!"

Anya's voice carried back to Michelle and Pam. "Yes, well, we do what we're best at, don't we!" she said, sounding a bit haughty. With Gwen clutched tightly, she walked lightly toward her Miata.

"How about pizza?" Gina asked.

Michelle glanced at Pam, and the two shrugged. "Sounds okay to me."

A short drive found them sitting in a corner booth at Luigi's Pizza Palace, a local favorite. Gina sipped her diet Coke. "I can't believe how little it takes to fill me up!" she proclaimed. "I used to eat a whole medium pizza by myself."

Pam nodded solemnly. "That's one good thing. The grocery and dining bills are lower." She stretched her arms to work out a knot from the afternoon's sailing. "Is it just me, or do you guys think there's something funny going on with Linda?"

Michelle wrinkled her nose. "Yeah. She's so...serious! So focused on the race."

Pam nodded. "And Lewis used to be the most outgoing. Now Linda's the shiest. I don't get it!"

Gina shook her head slowly. A knowing smile crept onto her features. "You guys missed the whole point."

"And that is?" Michelle asked quickly.

"Gender is the core of our identities." She straightened. "Look, you remember how we felt the first time we changed? How long it took to not feel...weird? Awkward?"

"Well, duh!" Pam replied. "Like we _wouldn't_ notice all the differences!"

Gina smiled and nodded. "Yeah, well to us, it's just something we need to do so we can beat Mitch and 'Night Shift'." She shook her head. "But to Lewis, it's a whole lot more." She cocked her head slightly. "I don't know if you've noticed it, but when we're not racing, Linda is treating that new body of hers like it's some kind of alien invader or something."

Michelle looked thoughtful. "I guess I had noticed that she didn't seem very...comfortable."

"Precisely. I think Linda is having a tougher time about this whole thing than any of us."

"Okay then, Einstein," Pam sounded skeptical, "why are _we_ not so upset? Why are _we_ having an easier time?"

Gina shrugged. "I don't know."

Michelle picked up Pam's line of thought. "Yeah, Gina, you seem to be having the easiest time of all of us. It's like you aren't bothered by this at all. What gives?" Her tone sounded more than a bit accusatory, as if she thought Gina was hiding something.

Gina's eyes narrowed, and she ground her jaw a couple of times. It was obvious that the conversation had wandered onto dangerous ground. "So what? Are you implying that you think I'm some kind of girly-boy or something?"

Pam backed off. "No. It's just that, well," she frowned, "I don't know. It just seems odd."

Gina retained her frown. "Look, maybe it's because I'm the third boy in the family. Maybe my Dad got out all his testosterone-induced vicarious sports thrills on my older brothers, okay? I don't _need_ to be hyper-macho, okay?" She felt her hand clench into a fist under the table.

Michelle decided it was time to play the diplomat. "I know your mom wanted a little girl, and that she pressured you to do - I don't know - girl things. But we're not trying to say that you're a little fairy or anything, are we?" She shot Pam a warning glare.

Pam nodded. "Yeah."

Gina glanced back and forth between the two, then her expression softened. "Besides, _I_ was the first one to get laid, remember? And _I_ was the one who did Mandy Malone under the bleachers, remember?" She got a wistful look in her eyes. "Damn, but she had some great melons," Gina said softly.

Pam's eyes widened for a moment, then she started chortling. "Yeah, maybe, but right now, I'd say you and Mandy would be pretty closely matched!" She held her hands in front of her chest as if holding massive hooters.

Michelle and Gina both lost it at Pam's comparison, breaking into spasms of laughter.

After her giggling calmed down, and after wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Gina shook her head. "So why _are_ we having such an easy time? Why did we seem so comfortable with the changes so quickly?"

Michelle shrugged. "Maybe it's part of the magic."

Gina shook her head. "I don't buy that. If it was, then Linda wouldn't be acting so strange."

Pam shrugged. "You know how the psychologists are all talking about the 'inner child'? Maybe we're all comfortable with our 'inner girls'?"

Michelle and Gina started giggling anew. "Evidently, my inner girl likes lacy nighties, then!" Gina added through her laughter.

After the giggling died down once more, Pam glanced around. "It's getting late, and I have to get some rest for work tomorrow. After I change, that is."

Michelle nodded. "And after a day like today, I think we're going to need all the rest we can get." She canted her head again. "Are either of you feeling, I don't know, _tired_ after a change?"

Pam nodded. "Yeah. Now that you mention it, it does seem to take a little out of me." She sat back. "With that and my poor aching muscles from today's workout, I'm going to need all the rest I can get."

Michelle sensed the opening. "Yeah, and since you're going to change back to Tim, I guess it's not beauty rest you'll get tonight!"

Pam slapped Michelle's arm. "I could say the same about you!"

Gina shook her head at the antics of the two. "So how are we going to do the changes for the race?"

Michelle thought for a second. "We've got one more practice on Wednesday. Then the race starts next Monday."

Gina nodded. "Are we going to change every day?"

Michelle shook her head. "Remember, Anya said it wasn't good to change too often. Besides, if it _is_ fatiguing to change, I'd rather we didn't. We need to be sharp for the race." She held up her hand and began ticking off her fingers. "Monday and Tuesday are the qualifying races. The top eight boats start the quarter finals on Wednesday. The semifinals are on Thursday. The finalists race the series on Friday through Sunday."

Pam frowned. "So that means we change at the start, and then stay girls until the following Monday? Even if we lose an early race?" She sounded a bit uneasy.

"I never, ever, heard Tim sound so defeatist," Michelle clucked, shaking her head. "Where's the 'can do' spirit? Where's your confidence?"

"Same place as my dick," Pam muttered under her breath. "Kind of AWOL right now."

Michelle tried to look stern, only to burst anew into laughter. When she could finally talk again, she shook her head. "I know that the idea of being a girl for the week is kind of...scary." She suppressed a shudder. "And I know we'll be expected at the club parties and dinners during the week." She shook her head. "It can't be helped.
That's what we _have_ to do if we're going to race."

Gina nodded, her lips pursed tightly. "And I, for one, am going to beat that rich little shit if it's the last thing I do! I'm not going to let being a girl stop me. I don't care if we get knocked out of the race, so long as we beat 'Night Shift' before we go!"

Michelle nodded. "And we'll just have to stick together to avoid any...unpleasant situations." She glanced at her comrades. "We can do this." She saw the nods of affirmation. "Good. That's the spirit I knew we had." She glanced at the clock. "Look, I'm kind of beat, so I think I'll head for home."

Gina smiled. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Besides," she added with a furtive glance around her, "I don't really want to be around anyone else when the magic wears off." She visibly shuddered. "I can handle changing, sort of, but not in public."

Pam nodded. "I know what you mean," she added eagerly.

**********

"I'm sorry, but I just can't." Lewis' arms were crossed firmly and defiantly across his chest, and he stood rather than leaned against his car.

Mike frowned. "What do you mean, you can't?" he asked carefully. "We've been changing for almost three weeks now to get ready for this. Just one more practice, and then the race starting this weekend! And now you want to back out?" He shook his head slowly, deliberately.

Tim glared at Lewis angrily. "Man, I don't get it. You've never pulled anything like this on us before." He sat back on the fender. "This is bullshit!" he muttered. "If you wanted to chicken out, why'd you have to wait until the last minute? Why didn't you do it when we started? At least then we could have found someone else to sail with us."

Harry stared evenly at Lewis. "What's going on?" he finally asked, breaking the awkward silence. "You've been acting … weird … since last Sunday." His eyes widened. "When you and Shelly …”

"Did you and Shelly do something?" Mike asked, completing Harry's thought.

Lewis looked up, his eyes aflame with anger. "No!" he snarled. "Leave Shelly the hell out of this!" His jaw trembled as he clenched it tightly shut, and for a few moments, he glared at his friends. Then he looked down at the pavement again.

Tim turned away from Lewis, still shaking his head. "A long time ago, we promised each other we'd never pull any chicken shit like this." He sighed. "I guess we should tell Greg."

Harry sighed. "Too late. Here he comes." He was staring at Gwen and Anya coming across the parking lot. Greg was already changed, and he'd chosen a rather curvy, athletic body this time.

"Shit," Mike muttered to himself.

"Hi, guys," Gwen cooed in a charming contralto voice. "I'm all set." Then she saw the expressions and poses, the silent body language that spoke louder than words. She looked back at Mike. "Problem?"

Mike nodded silently in affirmation. "Lewis doesn't want to change," Harry said simply.

Gwen sighed, then she glanced at Anya. She saw what she’d come to expect from Anya. Anya’s face was set in concentration, and her gaze directed at Lewis. For several silent seconds, she merely stared at him, and the rest of the guys slowly turned to observe.

"Lewis, let's go talk," Anya finally said softly. Her voice had a warmth, a comforting tone, that shattered Lewis' resolve. Like a puppy, Lewis followed Anya away from the group of guys until they were out of earshot. The conversation was soft but firmly accentuated by Lewis' gesturing, motions that betrayed anger and hurt and many more emotions.

Just when it seemed the conversation would go on eternally, Lewis dropped his head, then a moment later, he let Anya lift his chin until he was staring in her eyes. Finally, a nod came, a small but important punctuating gesture. Anya took Lewis' arm and led him back to the group.

Lewis was staring at the pavement, his feet shuffling uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have been so selfish. I know this race means a lot to you, and I guess I forgot that I gave my word that we were in it together."

Mike smiled, then grasped Lewis' hand. "Thanks, Lewis." He glanced at the others. "Let's go get changed, so we can get down to the club.”

As the group headed toward the ticket booth, Harry held back a bit until he was beside Anya. "What gives?" he asked simply.

Anya shook her head. "I can't say. It's for Lewis to tell you - if he wants to." Harry nodded and resumed his course for the gate, but Anya grasped his arm to stop him. "Lewis is making a huge sacrifice for this race," she continued, her voice carrying a tremendous sense of urgency. "Win."

As a result of his little delay with Anya, Harry was the last of the team into the locker room. The others had already collected their clothes and were waiting outside when Harry stepped into the shower.

When he didn't emerge after nearly fifteen minutes, Michelle frowned. "This isn't like Harry." She strode purposefully to the door and yanked it open. "Harry?" she asked carefully as she stepped in. There was no answer. The frown deepened as Michelle glanced around. A locker was still open, and it had woman's clothing. Clearly, the magic had already changed Harry into Gina. But where was she? Then Michelle heard the sound of a shower still running. What caught her attention, though, wasn't the sound of running water. It was something almost unearthly, a half-moan, half scream, a sound of a soul in agony. Michelle's heart raced, and she practically leaped to the shower, tearing aside the curtain.

"Oh, God!" Michelle screamed reflexively. Gina was curled up on the floor in a fetal position, her face ashen and her eyes clamped tightly shut. From her parted lips came the sound of pain, the moan of agony and the whimpering of her soft wishes for the pain to end. "Gina!" Michelle screamed again, as she knelt down beside her. The spray of the shower hit her, and Michelle reached up and turned it off. "Gina!" she cried again. "Can you hear me?" Michelle glanced behind her, frantically looking for someone to help. But there was no one.

"I'm going to get help," Michelle said, hoping Gina was comprehending. She stood and raced to the door, shoving it open with a strength she didn't realize she had.

Outside, Pam and Linda were startled by the door opening. They expected to see Michelle and Gina, and were surprised to see only Michelle, and with a look of total panic.

"Get Anya!" Michelle commanded. "Hurry!" She turned back into the locker room.

It took only a few moments for Anya’s grandmother to arrive, followed almost instantly by Dr. Chastity. To everyone's consternation, Dr. Chastity would not let them move Gina until she'd examined Gina thoroughly. Only then did they move Gina from the shower stall, very carefully and knowing that each motion was causing Gina pain.

"It hurts," Gina sobbed through tears as they set her on a bench.

Dr. Chastity nodded solemnly. "I know. Where does it hurt?"

Gina tried to turn her head toward Dr. Chastity, but that motion seemed to be too painful. "Everywhere," she said through tears and gritted teeth. "It hurts everywhere!"

Dr. Chastity glanced at the old woman. "TS?" she asked quickly.

The old woman frowned. "Are you sure?" she asked.

The doctor didn't like the reaction she'd gotten from the old woman. "No signs of blunt trauma or contusions. Nothing is broken." She shook her head. "The _only_ thing that I know of that explains these symptoms is TS."

"TS?" Pam interjected, as she'd been listening in on the conversation.

The old woman glanced at her. "Transformation shock," she said heavily. "A mortal body can only take so much magical transformation before it begins to be damaged."

Michelle frowned. "But we didn't feel anything! And we've all been changing the same amount."

The old woman started to answer, but Anya rushed in, interrupting her. "What's the commotion?" Anya asked, as she sized up the situation.

The old woman glanced at Gina. "We found her on the floor of the shower in pain. Dr. Chastity has pretty much ruled out anything except TS."

Anya sighed heavily. This was not good news for the team. She glanced at Gina, and her eyes closed for a moment or two. Then she turned to Michelle. "The reason you don't have it and she does is because every body reacts differently. Everyone has different thresholds, different tolerances." She glanced at Gina again, and read her expression. "Evidently, Gina has a lower tolerance than the rest of you."

The intercom clicked on, interrupting them yet again. "Dr. Chastity, please report to the Junior Lifeguard Academy. Dr. Chastity, please report to the Junior Lifeguard Academy." The speaker clicked off.

Chastity looked at the old woman and Anya. "TS is out of my league, anyway. You'll have to take care of this one." She marched quickly out of the locker room.

Anya glanced at her grandmother, then she turned to Michelle. "We're going to need some privacy to take care of this, okay?" She started to shoo the others from the locker room.

"And you'll fix me up so we can go racing, right?" Gina asked, her voice weak but full of hope. "That's what this is all about. So since I'm already changed, you can patch me up so we can go out?" Anya cut her off and directed the others out.

**********

"You sure you're okay?" Michelle asked, for perhaps the thousandth time.

And for the thousandth time, Gina nodded. "I'm _fine_." She sounded a bit miffed at having been treated like a fragile doll all day. "I think I managed to pull my own weight," she added in a defiant challenge. "So you can quit worrying. Okay?"

Michelle stepped onto the dock. "Okay." The others were way ahead of Gina and Michelle. "I don't like you having to be stuck for a couple of weeks. It doesn't seem right."

Gina nodded slowly. "Anya said any change, even changing back, could be dangerous. She said I shouldn't risk it. So she had to make the change last a lot longer."

"That's what she told me." She stopped, grasping Gina's arm. "But the other part sounded weird. This change is … bigger that what we've done before? I didn't understand that part."

Gina glanced down, then looked directly into Michelle's eyes. " Remember how Anya told us our changes were, what did she say, local? Yeah, local. That only our bodies were changed. That was okay for racing, but Anya said it wasn't enough for long changes. She had to add a spell of some kind, to kind of rewrite part of reality, she said. You guys will remember me as Harry, but no one else will. As far as everyone is concerned, I've always been Gina. My boss, my friends, my family, everyone. As far as the world is concerned, Harry never existed. Only Gina.”

Michelle flinched visibly. "Did you have to go that far?" she asked nervously. The sheer power required to rewrite the history of the world frightened her

Gina nodded slowly. She seemed unmoved by the magnitude of the change. "It had to be done," she answered. "There wasn't any other way. Without a spell to make the change longer lasting and rewriting reality, it would have been very tough for me to live. Gina never existed outside the changes, and since I had to be stuck in this body for a while, Anya said I needed to have the world know me as Gina."

Michelle dropped her eyes as she sighed. "Yeah, I guess I knew that, even if I didn’t want to hear it." They walked a few more steps toward Michelle's condo. "I suppose Anya gave you all the knowledge and skills you need to cope?"

Gina shook her head, but with a laugh. "No. She had to keep the spell as simple as possible, to avoid any extra damage, she said." She glanced at Michelle. "To tell you the truth, that's the only part I'm scared about - not having the skills to act like a natural woman."

"Did Anya tell you what was going on with Linda?" Michelle was clearly uncomfortable talking about how long Gina had to stay a woman, and was eager to change the subject.

Gina sighed. "No. Only that it was rough for her." A few more steps passed. "She's staying with you tonight?"

"Yeah." Michelle frowned. "Something's up with Shelly. Something serious. But I guess we're going to have to wait until Linda decides to tell us."

The two stopped at the door to Michelle's condo. Gina took Michelle's arm. "Look, Michelle," she said, "I know you're concerned about me, and about how I'm coping with the change." She smiled. "I appreciate it, really."

"What are friends..."

"Shhh." Gina bit her lip, then continued. "I have a feeling the next few days are going to be pretty tough. And I appreciate knowing that you and the guys will be there for me." She smiled. "So for all we've been through to get this far, we've got to win. Okay? One hundred twenty percent. Nothing less, right?"

Michelle grinned. That was the sort of thing that Harry was always saying to inspire the troops. It gave her confidence that things were really okay. "We're going to win," she answered.

**********

A heavy sigh escaped Michelle's lips as she eased back into the stuffed chair in the yacht club's main reception hall. For a moment, she closed her eyes, relishing in the temporary refuge of blackness. Around her, the noise of the milling crowd was momentarily lost. But the peace could not last; Michelle knew that if she really let herself, she'd fall asleep in mere seconds.

As if on cue, a hand touched her shoulder, a gentle reminder that the party was still present and she should really rejoin the waking world. Michelle pried her eyes open and tilted her head. A thin smile formed when she recognized Pam.

"You okay, skipper?" Pam asked, in a voice that was both sympathetic and concerned.

Michelle nodded slowly as she took a deep breath. "Yeah," she answered. "I'm just tired."

Pam eased herself down into the adjacent wingback chair. "You and me both," she agreed. "Tough day."

Michelle nodded. "But a good one," she added with a smile. If anything, Pam had proven herself the master of understatement. Grueling was a more apt descriptor for the day.

"Yeah, we did a fair job today, didn't we?" Pam asked smugly. She, and the rest of the crew, had good reason to be feeling good about their performance. Of the two races of their grouping, they'd come in first in both, once by a respectable six minutes. They'd made the first cut, and were going to the quarter-finals.

"Oh, there you are!" Gwen glided into view, wearing a dress more suited for a formal gathering than this informal reception at the yacht club. Strapless, ankle-length with a side slit in the skirt, it hugged her body tight enough to show off every curve. With her hair done in a neat shoulder-length bob, she looked quite ... elegant.

"Hi," Michelle answered wearily. She eyed her carefully. "I see you changed."

Gwen smiled demurely. "A girl has to look nice in public," she replied as easily as if she were discussing the weather.

Pam shook her head. "You're too good at this," she said, as a tremor coursed down her spine. "It's almost … spooky!"

Gwen laughed softly. "Practice." She glanced around. "You two need to get some dates or something."

Michelle's eyes narrowed. "I don't follow."

Gwen laughed again. "Look at all the single guys. The rich snobs with the East Coast college degrees. They're all checking you out. They have been all night, too."

Michelle frowned. "Are you …?”

Pam, however, interrupted her. "So that's it," she said, her eyes narrowed. "I've had this nagging feeling like I've been on display all night."

Gwen nodded slowly. "You are." She glanced around the room, sending her tresses swirling neatly around her shoulders as she quickly sized up the situation. "You need to get some dates, so the rich snobs will leave you alone."

Pam glanced around the room. "I don't see Gina," she observed.

Michelle scanned the hall to verify for herself. "I don't, either," she agreed. "Or Jenny."

"You don't suppose..." Pam began.

"Nope," Gwen answered, before Pam could even finish the question. "Gina's been spending time with Jenny because she's stuck, and Jenny's been helping her get through it."

Pam looked down in embarrassment. "Sorry," she said slowly. "I guess I'd forgotten how hard this is on Gina."

Michelle shook her head. "I don't know. Sometimes, it seems like Gina is _enjoying_ the whole thing."

"Good evening, ladies," a voice called pleasantly from behind Michelle.

Michelle stiffened instantly as she recognized the voice, even before she turned to see the interloper. As expected, her eyes were greeted by the sight of Mitch Logan, decked out in one of his trademark - and very expensive - maroon blazers, with the gaudy pocket embroidery of what Mitch claimed was the family coat of arms. His suntan helped offset Mitch's otherwise frail facial appearance. Michelle knew that Mitch thought he looked rugged; in reality, it added to the snobbish, arrogant aura clinging tightly to him.

"Good evening," Michelle replied, mustering as much civility as she could, "Mister Logan."

Despite her best efforts, her words were icy cold.

Mitch ignored the obvious slight in her tone of voice. "I noticed your brother isn't around for the party. Probably ashamed to show himself after he decided not to race," he chuckled, amused at his little put-down of Mike.

"As I said the other day," Michelle tried to smile as she talked to the arrogant little twerp, "he's out of town on an extended business trip." Her words dripped with mock sincerity.

Mitch ignored her verbal parry. "Perhaps I can get you ladies something to drink?" he offered. "Some champagne, perhaps?"

Michelle lifted her glass of ginger ale. "Not this evening, thank you. We'll save the champagne for our victory celebration," she countered.

Mitch's eyes burned for a moment, then he forced a smile. "I'd have thought you ladies would have preferred a leisurely ride on the winning boat over working yourselves so hard in a noble yet futile attempt to win the regatta." He puffed up his chest. "After all, everyone knows that I've got the best boat in the fleet."

Michelle shot a warning glance to Gwen and Pam, who both appeared ready to deck the offensive rich bastard. Then she pasted her sweet smile back on. "It's been my experience that even the finest boat is little more than a dinghy without a good skipper."

"Why, you …” Mitch stopped his loud angry words before he made more of a scene than he already was making. A few people, attracted by the verbal duel between Mitch and Michelle, were drifting toward them to better overhear. Mitch's eyes narrowed and he worked his jaw, clenching and unclenching it repeatedly as his brain struggled to squelch his anger at the implication of Michelle's barb.

Gwen couldn't resist joining in. She sauntered seductively to Mitch's side. "Oh, dear," she cooed in her ultra-feminine voice, "if poor Mister Logan is getting so upset when we merely discuss winning, I'm afraid we'll have to have medics on hand when we actually win!" Around them, the crowd guffawed and chuckled at Mitch's predicament; it was evident that most of the members of the club considered Mitch as much an arrogant snob as Michelle did.

"You're so sure you can win, huh?" Mitch hissed through clenched teeth. "Well, how about you put something behind those words?" He watched the surprise spread across Michelle's features. "If you lose, you agree to go out with me every night for a week." He stared right in Michelle's face, only inches away. "Or are you too scared to make a little bet?"

It was Michelle's turn to fume. Mitch knew how to get Mike's goat; he'd been doing it for years, which was one of the reasons Mike hated Mitch so. Now Michelle was showing the same vulnerabilities as Mike. "And _when_ I win," Michelle countered angrily, "you'll donate your boat to the Sea Scouts."

"That hardly seems like an even wager," Mitch rebutted. "I'll tell you what - how about if, besides just dating me, you do _anything_ I ask for the week?" He glared at Michelle, watching, and when her lip trembled, he grinned triumphantly.

Michelle's anger clouded her judgment. "Done," she snapped.

Mitch stepped back and then slowly, deliberately, eyed Michelle's figure up and down. It was painfully obvious what he meant by 'anything'. "I'm looking forward to collecting my winnings," he said with a leer as he turned and walked cockily toward the bar.

"You know," Pam called after Mitch, "I'm sure the Sea Scouts will be able to make that scow shipshape. Eventually." She laughed to herself when she saw his shoulders stiffen.

Michelle stood fuming, flanked by Pam and Gwen. "You realize what you just bet, don't you, skipper?" Gwen asked softly.

Michelle took a deep breath, then she bit her lip. "Damn," she said angrily. "I always let him get to me like that!"

Gwen turned to Pam. "You know, now we've _got_ to win. To protect the skipper's innocence."

Michelle glanced at Gwen, then she trembled at the realization of what losing now meant to her personally.

**********

"Two down, one to go," Gina said with a huge grin, as she sat down on the railing.

Michelle's grin was nearly as large. "I thought today would be a little tougher."

Jenny turned from where she stood atop the cabin, one hand on the mast and the other on the standing rigging. "Even if they hadn't fouled their spinnaker, we'd have won pretty easily."

"Who won the other semi?" Gina asked cautiously. "Nostrovja?"

Michelle snorted. "We should be so lucky. From what I've seen, it's probably Night Shift." She sounded less than pleased, understandably.

"Well, we'll know for certain when we get back to the docks."

"I suppose we have another party tonight?" Linda asked softly. She sounded like she didn't want any part of another social gathering.

"Yeah," Pam confirmed. "Another one."

“Don’t any of those people work?" Jenny asked sarcastically. She already knew the answer - most of the 'movers and shakers' of the yacht club were either rich or retired, or both. "I've got a few pumps that need some maintenance, and..."

Gwen laughed aloud. "Always thinking about the park. You're almost as bad as Scotty from Star Trek."

"Yeah, well, you and Jenny don't have to go out again tonight," Pam chided. "You could go back and work on your pumps, so you'll be able to concentrate on the race tomorrow."

"We didn't go out last night."

Pam frowned. "Gina told us you two went to the club last night." Pam's eyes narrowed and she turned to Gina. "You two and Bert?"

Gina noted the conversation, and she turned her face away from the others.

"You … went out on a date with Bert?" Michelle asked, dumbfounded.

Gina shook her head. "No." Her denial was weak.

"Oh, no!" Linda suddenly cried. "You _didn't_!"

Gina's shoulders shook a bit and she nodded slowly, still facing the water so the others couldn't see the bright red of her cheeks.

"That's … sick!" Linda cried, as she stormed below deck. Her reaction surprised Michelle and Pam.

"What's with her?" Jenny climbed down from her perch and sat down.

Michelle glanced around. "I don't know. This whole crew is going nuts."

Gina spun. "You're the one who bet her virginity on the race!" she accused. "So don't _you_ start getting all self-righteous on me just because I got a little curious!"

Michelle opened her mouth to speak, but then she thought better of it. For several seconds, she merely steered the boat, contemplating what had been said. "Okay," she finally answered. "That's fair."

Gina glared defiantly at Michelle for a moment, then her features softened and she nodded. "I'm sorry, too," she said.

Pam glanced around. "Can we quit sniping at each other and get back to the job at hand, which is to beat Mitch's sorry little ass?" Her tone was just what was needed - Michelle and Gina's giggles quickly transformed into outright laughter.

**********

"This is it, guys," Michelle said solemnly, as the crew sat down in the cockpit. The sails were trimmed neatly, and the boat was lazily tacking and jibing as they awaited the starting cannon. "We all know the score. We're tied at two each, and we're down by over two minutes in total time." The finals were using an unusual format of six races. If either boat won four races, it was over. If they tied at three to three, then the total time would be used. That made the two minute difference huge.

On the first day, 'Luck o’ the Irish' had won by a few seconds when Michelle out-tacked Mitch on the next-to-the-last leg. Both crews had been sharp, and few mistakes had been made. In the second race, however, a slip in raising the spinnaker on 'Luck o’ the Irish' had cost Michelle and crew the race - and nearly forty seconds. In the first race of day two, Michelle had badly misjudged a shift in the winds, and Mitch's boat had won by over two minutes. She and the girls made up for the slip in the second race, but they were still down by over two minutes. They all knew that if the race tied three-three, Mitch was going to win on the tiebreaker.

Michelle glanced around the gray skies, following Linda's gaze. "Looks like we're going to have a rough day, skipper," Linda observed.

Gina nodded. "Isolated showers, too."

"Is that bad?" Gwen asked, not knowing what their weather report meant.

Pam nodded. "If we get a squall, or a squall line, the winds can change very suddenly. And the waves will be a lot heavier, which means the boat will be plowing through them rather than gliding over them."

"Yeah, it's bad," Gina agreed. "You take your Dramamine this morning?" she added.

"Five minutes," Michelle called, as she read the flags on the committee boat. She made a turn, then as the crew trimmed the sails, she pulled out a stopwatch. She made a run for the start line, and as she crossed the line, she spun the helm again until she was heading back upwind of the start line.

"Is she timing the run to the start?" Gwen asked Gina.

Gina grinned. "Good observation. That means you've been paying attention the last few days.” She glanced at the committee boat. "The whole idea is to cross the line within a few seconds of the cannon, without going over early."

Gwen thought a moment. "Like the boat we raced in the quarter finals? The one that had to turn and recross the line?"

"Yup. A mistake like that can cost you a minute or more, depending on the winds." She stiffened. "Okay, get the mainsail trimmed," she barked. Gwen and Gina grabbed the lines and tightened the sail, with Gina watching the tell-tales on the sail's leading edge. "Okay," she snapped when the sail was just right.

The cannon boomed, and the two boats glided silently across the line, so close that it was impossible to tell who was first.

Michelle proved herself a master at judging the winds; despite a couple of significant wind shifts, she kept the boat properly positioned to take maximum advantage. She easily beat Mitch in the first tacking duel, and then the leg with the spinnaker went absolutely flawlessly. Two more laps, executed almost as precisely, and 'Luck o’ the Irish' crossed the line well ahead of 'Night Shift'.

The final race was now for all the marbles. If 'Luck' won, Michelle and the girls owned the cup. If Mitch won the race, he won the series. It started badly. 'Night Shift' beat 'Luck' across the line when a wind shift forced Michelle to add an extra jibe to avoid crossing early. With the wind shift, they were racing the first leg in a close reach, sailing as close into the wind as they possible. In this position, the lead boat had the advantage, since its sails could effectively mask the wind from the trailing boat. Arrogant though he was, Mitch Logan knew how to sail. Despite every maneuver, Mitch kept 'Luck o’ the Irish' in the lee of his boat's sail. At the first marker, 'Night Shift' was up by twenty seconds.

The second leg was nearly perfectly crosswind. With the girls hanging out on trapeze harnesses to counter the force of the wind, Michelle kept her boat as finely trimmed as she could. Her ever-vigilant eyes scanned the horizon, watching for any tell-tale sign of a change in the winds, for in the position they were, any shift could prove catastrophic. A sudden gust could easily overturn 'Luck', or force Michelle to turn downwind, losing precious time. Gwen watched, admiringly, as she held the wheel, her face a mask of grim determination as she constantly scanned for any signs of change, her arms constantly tweaking the rudder to maximize the wind's forces. They rounded the second pylon, having cut seven seconds off Mitch's lead.

No sooner did Michelle begin to turn the wheel than the other girls sprang into action. It was a race against time. On the third leg, with the wind directly astern, the jib had to come down and the massive spinnaker had to go up in its place. Even as Pam clipped the lines to the spinnaker, Jenny and Greg were frantically pulling the jib down. In a flurry of chaotic action, the huge sail climbed up the mast, luffing in the wind for a moment before it began to fill. Constrained by the sheets astern, it filled like a giant balloon, tugging the 'Luck o' the Irish' forward under its enormous force. Another eight seconds of Mitch's lead vanished.

The next two legs were a repeat of the first two, and Luck made up precious little time on 'Night Shift'. Perhaps Mitch sensed the threat, or perhaps his crew wasn't making any of the tiny but meaningful mistakes, but 'Night Shift' remained stubbornly five seconds ahead.

Just after rounding the buoy onto the downwind leg, they switched to the spinnakers, within a minute, though, Michelle perked up, gazing steadily astern. "Get the spinnaker down! Set the storm jib, and reef the mainsail!" she called frantically. For the briefest moment, the girls paused, confused by the odd orders. Then Gina, Pam, and Linda sprang into action. The balloon of the spinnaker collapsed as one line was eased, and Greg frantically stuffed the billowy mass of Dacron into the forward hatch as Linda lowered it. At the same time, Pam and Jenny were pulling the storm jib, a small cousin of the normal jib sail, out of its storage pack and clipping the lines to it. Even before the spinnaker was down, the jib was snaking up the mast.

Astern of them, Gina had eased the mainsail and was fastening the lower edge of the sail, reducing its area. "One?" she called to Michelle without looking.

Michelle glanced over her shoulder. "Two," she answered quickly, indicating just how much she wanted the sail reduced in size.

The wind from the storm hit 'Luck o’ the Irish' like a hammer, tugging mightily at the flapping jib and the mainsail and causing extra work for Gwen as she tried to stuff the remaining fabric of the spinnaker below. Her feet skidded on the wet deck, and tugged by the billowing sail, she nearly lost her footing. Only Pam's quick hands kept Gwen from falling overboard. More frantic action followed as the girls fought to trim the new sails. The mainsail was let out all the way to port, and a boom was attached to the storm jib to starboard, maximizing the amount of sail exposed to the winds coming from astern. In a very few seconds, the 'Luck o’ the Irish' had been trimmed to the abrupt shift in winds. Even as Gina and Pam finished tightening the lines, the squall that was the center of the microburst broke over them. Despite the August heat, the rain drops were chilly, even cold, on the exposed skin of the girls.

"Holy shit!" Gina called, pointing suddenly through the rain to their port side. She failed to suppress a shudder, partly because of the chilly rain and partly because of what she saw.

In their haste to change the sails, none of the girls had had time to look forward at their rivals in 'Night Shift'. Now they were passing them, and Gina saw what the squall had done to the boat.

If anyone on 'Night Shift' had seen the frantic activity aboard 'Luck', they might have been confused at first. After all, when a boat was running, it wanted more sail, not less. And from the appearance of 'Night Shift', the wonder didn't turn into realization until too late. The spinnaker was in tatters, ripped shreds of Dacron hanging from the mast. And before the spinnaker had torn, the mast itself had been subject to some awful force; it seemed a bit askance, leaning ever so slightly toward the bow. The mainsail seemed to have fared better, but from the efforts being applied, something had jammed. 'Night Shift' was a crippled boat.

Despite the damage, 'Night Shift' was far from finished. While he couldn't sail as aggressively as Michelle, Mitch nonetheless pushed his boat hard. The boat only lost a few seconds on the first leg, and another few seconds on the beam reach. But when they got to the final downwind, where the spinnakers helped the boats run with the wind, Michelle had a spinnaker to fly, while Mitch could only fly his mainsail and jib wing-in-wing. 'Luck o’ the Irish' crossed the line three minutes ahead of 'Night
Shift.'

**********

"Whooo!!!" Gina hooted, as she helped hoist the trophy cup. Another cork popped, and a fresh spray of champagne doused the happy crew of 'Luck o’ the Irish'. The flashes of the many cameras were nearly blinding as well.

Michelle grabbed a half-full bottle of champagne and took a healthy swig. As she passed the bottle to Gwen, she was encircled by Linda's arms in a celebratory hug. "We did it!" Michelle cried as tears of joy leaked from her eyes. "We won!"

Despite the heat of the late afternoon, the crowd was gathered in the pavilion of the yacht club. The girls stood on a small stage at the closed end of the pavilion. Pam and Gina hoisted the trophy again, whooping and hollering as they did. Perhaps the club was mostly rich and retired folks, but they did accept such celebratory antics as within the bounds of civilized behavior. Besides, as one of the 'old money' men had whispered to Michelle, some of them were secretly delighted that 'that arrogant little shit' Mitch had been defeated.

As Michelle walked up onto the stage, she saw Mitch slinking through the crowd, a scowl on his face. She quickly took the microphone "It was fun to race against such a worthy challenger," she said, fighting to keep the sarcasm from her voice. "And of course, the Sea Scouts will be grateful to Mister Logan, who as part of a personal challenge, agreed to donate his boat to that worthy group." The crowd turned toward Mitch, and applause erupted.

Mitch's mouth opened to protest, but the president of the club sensed that Mitch was about to try to worm out of the bet. The president grabbed the microphone from Michelle. "Yes, normally, the club frowns on wagering, but given the nature of this, er, particular wager, we decided to not take any actions against your generous and very public bet." His eyes were steel, and his words gave Mitch zero room to wiggle.

Michelle accepted the microphone back. "And when you get a new boat, Mitch, we can do this again!" Laughter rippled through the crowd at Michelle's little barb. When the chuckles died down, she went on with a short speech, thanking the sponsors and the club. The vice-president of the girls' sponsor made a speech, noting especially and proudly that it was a female crew that had won. The president of the yacht club made a congratulatory speech.

Michelle felt her stomach rumbling in protest; it had been a very long day, and despite having taken food, she felt famished. To add to the torture, the yacht club had catered a Hawaiian style luau, complete with a roast pig that was filling the air with its succulent odors. Finally, just when she thought she could take no more, the food was uncovered and plates were set out.

**********

"We did it," Tim said with a smile as he relaxed on the boat. "We beat that little shit."

Mike grinned. "Yeah, we did." He glanced to his side. "Thanks to this little lady and her magic."

Anya smiled. "I'm just happy to help out."

Then she grinned. "But my magic had nothing to do with your win. All the magic did was let you enter the race. You guys did the hard part."

Lewis wore a curious expression, a mixture of happiness and sadness that seemed to vary in content. "At least it's over."

Anya smiled sadly at him. "Did you ever tell the guys?"

Lewis shook his head as the others stared curiously at him. "Nope."

Anya shrugged. "You should. But it's your choice."

Lewis looked down at the deck for a while, and then he looked up. "Shelly is moving out tomorrow. We're through." His voice fluctuated between anger and sorrow.

"Why?"

Lewis looked down again, embarrassed to look at his friends. He glanced up at Anya and saw her reassuring nod. "While I was changed, the last weekend before the race ..." He paused, biting his lip. "We … went out. To a club." Lewis took a deep breath, trying to calm his nervousness. "I got a little drunk. And when we got home, she ..." He looked away, off the side of the boat. "She used some sex toys on me."

Mike gasped. "That's..."

"… why I stayed with you.” Lewis completed. "I was afraid. I was afraid she was going the same thing to me again. Or something worse. She'd joked about getting a man to do it to me." He looked down at the deck again. He could feel the heat in his cheeks. "I couldn't … trust her not to."

Tim whistled. "So you're breaking up? Because she abused your trust?" He shook his head, not knowing what else to say.

Anya broke the silence. "You guys had to know. Lewis risked a lot for his friends. This race cost him his girlfriend. That should show you how important you guys are to him."

Mike nodded slowly. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?" he asked softly. "We would have..."

Lewis glanced up suddenly. "You would have pulled out of the race to save me."

Mike stared into his eyes for a moment, and then he nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess we would have."

Lewis shook his head sadly. "And I couldn't let you guys down. I couldn't let you guys drop out on my account."

Anya smiled again in her sad all-knowing smile. She looked at Gina. "Your turn."

The guys glanced at Anya, and then looked to Gina, their expressions shocked.

Mike glanced back and forth between Anya and Gina. "But … Harry's stuck because of the transformation shock thing, right?" His voice sounded hopeful, but as he read Anya's expression, he knew it was something more. "Right?" he asked again, this time directing his words at Gina.

Gina turned and stared off the port side, away from the guys. From where they sat, the guys could only see her back. They couldn't see the tear welling up in her eye or trickling down her cheek. They couldn't see her biting her lip.

"Gina?" Anya prompted gently.

Gina slowly turned, and as soon as she saw the confused looks on her friends' faces, she burst into tears. Sobbing visibly, she looked down at the deck. "Nope," she answered softly.

"But … you had transformation shock! From what Greg said, it takes weeks to recover!" Tim protested.

Gina tried to wipe her tears. "Nope," she answered again. She glanced up at Anya, then she bawled anew. "I never had …”

"But we saw you!" Mike said. He looked to Anya, hoping she could clear up this confusion.

Anya shook her head. "She never had TS."

"But..."

"I never had it! I was faking it!" Gina bawled, as she looked up at Mike.

Confused, he and the other guys glanced at Anya, whose slow nod confirmed Gina's story.

"If you remember, both Grandmother and I were confused when Dr. Chastity said it was TS. If it had been, we would have been able to detect it. We couldn't. She never had it."

"I don't get it," Lewis said as he shook his head. "Why would you want to fake it?"

Gina glanced at him, then she fled down into the cabin, bawling all the way.

Anya watched Gina flee, then she turned back to the guys. "Gina didn't _want_ to change back."

"But …“ Lewis stopped and looked thoughtfully at the deck for a moment. "Is he gay? Is that what it's about? Is that why she tried sex with a guy?" He sounded near hysteria, as if Gina's revelation had made her toxic.

Anya shook her head, snorting contemptuously. "It's not about sex or being gay. It's about feeling more comfortable as a girl than as a guy."

Mike shook his head. "But why? Harry was one of us! We did everything together - all the guy stuff! Scouting, camping, fishing, boating. We learned to shoot rifles together. We went on dates together!"

Anya closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. "Girls enjoy a lot of those things, too. It's not about being a macho guy, or liking girl things, or being gay." She opened her eyes, glanced at the guys, then closed them halfway. Her head shook sadly. "You guys just don't get it. Gina is more comfortable being a girl."

Mike took a deep breath. "But..." He closed his mouth and looked down at the deck for a moment. "But if she changed, then … nothing we did …. Did it ever really happen? The varsity letters? The football team? The cars? Getting his Eagle Scout? Did that ever happen?"

Anya let her features soften. "No. Not if she changes permanently. It will have never officially happened. At least, not to anyone except you four."

"But why?"

"Why?" Gina asked from the cabin door, surprising the guys by her reappearance. "Because I knew you guys would never accept me if I changed. Because I couldn't let you lose the race on my account."

Tim stared open-mouthed at Gina for a moment, and then he lowered his gaze. She had a point, he had to admit.

Lewis was clearly having the worst time of Gina's announcement. He'd been violated as a girl, and there was no way he could understand. But still, it was Harry ….

Mike slowly nodded, then he rose. "Take the wheel," he said softly to Tim. In three steps, he was face-to-face with Gina.

She looked hesitantly up at Mike, her cheeks tear-stained. She was still afraid of how the guys were going to react.

Mike put one of her fears to rest. Tentatively, unsure of himself, he wrapped his arms around Gina, giving her a hug. "No matter what, you're still my friend," he said softly. "We've invested too much in our friendship, and I don't want to let that go to waste." After a while, he stepped back. "It's going to be weird," he admitted, "but I don't want to lose you as a friend."

The ice was broken. "I was so afraid you guys would turn away from me."

Tim shook his head. "You've always been like a brother. How can I turn away from that?"

Gina smiled. "Make it 'sister' now."

"So we're not exactly going to be like brothers now," Tim said, "but we can still be like family."

"And like sisters next year!" Gina said with a grin.

Mike scowled. "I'm not following you."

Gina smiled sweetly. "You don't remember accepting Mitch's challenge to a rematch with Michelle next year?"

Gina laughed as Mike slowly recalled what he'd said through the champagne-induced haze. "Did I really accept?" Mike asked slowly. "I thought it was just a bad dream."

"Oh, shit," Tim muttered under his breath. "Here we go again."

FIN