Jessica


                                                            by  Laura  Leigh

It all began innocently enough.

I answered the phone to find Jessica on the other end.  It was the big
weekend -- she and my best friend were getting married on Sunday, the
next day.  She was having doubts, she said, and needed a guy to talk to
about it.  I said 'sure,' I'd be more th an happy to help.

As I entered her house, I was a bit surprised by the quiet.  I had
expected her family to be there, a buzz of pre-wedding activity all
around.  Instead, I found a house where only Jessica was home.  Her
mother, grandmother, aunts, and all the assorted nieces were over at
the church already, she said.

Jessica was gorgeous.  She always had been.  I really envied Stephen,
for he was about to marry the most beautiful young lady I had ever
seen.  She was nineteen, same as me.  Her figure was female perfection,
generously so.  It didn't matter what she wore -- blazer and skirt,
evening gown, party dress, bikini, sweats, canvas bag or nothing at
all, she was stunningly attractive.  Her brown eyes always sparkled.
Her makeup was always immaculate, as were her long, perfect nails.  She
took her womanhood very seriously, as if any day, in some cosmic beauty
pageant, she would have to be the sole representative of the human
female.  Her shiny hair, a deep honey brown with glints of auburn red,
was shoulder length with bangs, and gently curled in around her face
and under at the ends.

I tried not to worship her.

We handed me a drink, then we sat down and began.  She was having grave
doubts about the marriage.  I assured her that Stephen was one in a
million, a really great guy.  I had known him forever, it seemed.  She
said she knew all that.

"I'm not sure I want to be married at all," she quietly confessed.  "It
isn't Stephen.  It's me.  I mean, I love him and all, at least, I think
I do...but I don't know what I want, yet.  Oh...how did I ever let this
get so out of hand?"

"Well, I'm not sure what to say."

"I just need to get away for a few days, off by myself somewhere.  I
thought I'd be fine by now, but I'm not," she said.  "I thought I
wanted this, but now, well, I'm in over my head." She began to cry.

"So, you're going to postpone the wedding?"

"Oh, no!  I can't.  It would kill my grandmother, and I'm not so sure
my mother would ever speak to me again.  But there's something else I
can do...I need your help, though.  I'm leaving on a flight tonight for
a secluded week of self-searching, but the wedding has to go on."

"I don't get it.  How?"

"With your help."

"My help?"

"I need you, Kevin.  I've looked everywhere, tried everyone I know,
including you.  Only you can help me.  You're the one in a million
friend I need right now...no one else will work, and I'm lucky to have
found you.  I need you to be my mirror."

"What?  What does that mean?"

"Just agree...please?  Say you'll be my mirror...please?"

I had no idea what she meant, but I agreed.  "Okay, Jessica...I'll be
your mirror."

She smiled and kissed me on the forehead.  "Relax -- and enjoy it.  And
take good care of my Stevie."

Before I could find out what she meant by that, my head swooned.  A
deep dizziness gripped me, and I fell sideways onto the sofa as a swirl
of blackness closed in.

                                 * * *

I awoke to bright sunlight.  I came to realize that I was sitting in
the driver's seat of a parked car, and looking through the windshield I
saw the main terminal of the airport.  How had I gotten there?  It was
Jessica's car.  I recognized it.  The keys dangled from the ignition.
I figured I needed to lock up the car and go look for Jessica, but as I
reached out for the keys, I gasped.

My hand was not my own.  Perfect, polished nails tipped my fingers with
more than an inch of glassy red gloss.  I mean, they were thick,
perfectly-sculpted, unbreakable acrylic nails that looked as if half of
the national debt had been spent on them.  I quickly pulled my hand
down so no one else would see the boy in the champagne pink Ford Probe,
who had obviously spent a good bit of his time at a nail salon.  But as
I dropped my hand down, my gaze fell upon the rest of me and I found,
well, another surprise.

I had a bustline.  I mean, a serious one.  Major league falsies.  And I
was wearing a red blazer and matching skirt, one that reached almost to
my knees.

My knees.  They, and the rest of my legs, were encased in sheer hose --
and I could see through the sheen of the stockings that all the hair on
my legs was gone, leaving them flawless and shiny.  And then -- to top
it all off -- my feet had been stuffed into a pair of glistening, black
patent high heels.  Three inches, at least.  But as small as the shoes
looked to me, they seemed comfortable when I wiggled my toes.

I grew angry, slumping into the seat so as not to be seen by passersby.
Who had dressed me up like a girl?  Jessica?  Why would she do that?
How could that possibly help her situation?  And what was I supposed to
do -- drive home like that?  I sure couldn't get out of the car,
especially not at a crowded airport!  My heart pounded so hard I could
hear it, and I felt the cold chill of nervous perspiration begin to
bead up on my scalp.  People continued to walk by.  Some must have seen
me, I was sure of it!  I was scared to death, and as embarrassed as you
can be and still remain conscious.

As I sat there, trying in vain to think of a course of action, I
noticed a fragrance, almost a taste, in my mouth whenever I breathed in
through it.  Rubbing my lips together, I found that something slippery
coated them.  Oh, no -- not that, too!  Carefully, I sat up, looking
out of the car windows for people nearby.  At the moment, there were
none, so I decided to quickly get a glance of my face in the rear view
mirror.  I had to know just how extensive the damage was.  How much
makeup had she put on me?  'Be her mirror,' huh?  Really funny,
Jessica!  Really funny!

I sat up and reached out to aim the mirror at myself.  Suddenly, I saw
the reflection of Jessica sitting behind me.

"Really funny!" I began, yelling at her.  "What's this for?" I
demanded, angry.  "Why did you make me look like this?  How am I
supposed to get home?" There was no answer.  I turned in the seat to
look back at her, but found the back seat empty.  Momentary confusion
filled me.  I looked back into the mirror and there she was again,
staring up at me.

I realized that my voice had felt, well, strange as I spoke, and I then
had a horrible thought.  I adjusted the mirror further, and found that
it had been pointed not at the back seat, but at me.

I stared in shock into her eyes, then at her lips, her hair, her --
everything.  My face had become Jessica's!

I knew where the other half of the national debt had been spent.  I was
wearing exquisitely perfect makeup, with sultry eye shadows, dark,
mascara-coated lashes and deep red lipstick.  I even had her perfect
cheekbones.  Her perfect hairstyle.  Her perfect earrings.  Her
gorgeous face stared back at me, and it was my own.  I looked again at
the body I wore, knowing now that the apparent womanhood it displayed
went farther than mere outward appearance.  Discreetly touching my
chest, I felt my own hand against me and realized for the first time
that the uniquely feminine protrusions I had there were not falsies,
but the genuine article.  My flat, muscular chest was gone, replaced by
the softness and immensity of female mammarian splendor.

I freaked.  I think I screamed.

I stared into the gorgeous eyes in the mirror, at that gorgeous face.
My heart pounded.  What the hell was I supposed to do now?  My thoughts
were scrambled and unfocused, overloaded by the seriousness of my
situation.

This isn't fair, Jessica!  I don't know how in hell you did this, but
it isn't fair!  You were born this way, I wasn't.  You grew up this
way.  I like being me.  I like being male.  I have a job I like and
friends I like and I like being a slob who can sit hunched over with my
legs apart, watching a ball game or sitting at a bar!  I like the
respect that goes with being a man, and I like having the dominant male
role in physical relationships!

Suddenly, you've thrown me into, well, another life altogether!

After about half an hour, I almost began to get used to seeing that
face in the mirror.  Almost.  No matter what expression I made, she
made it, too.  My hands ran over my body, subtly taking inventory.  I
tensed my groin muscles, seeing if I could feel any real difference
down there.  No luck.  Sure that no one was watching, I slipped my hand
under the waistband of the skirt, attacking from a different angle.  I
had to know if the changes in my body reached between my legs, as well.
I had no reason to think otherwise, but I had to know.

They did.  Every cell of my body had become female.  Every cell had
become Jessica.

I sat back into the seat, trying to get a grip.  I then noticed a red
purse in the passenger seat next to me.  Perhaps it held a clue as to
Jessica's whereabouts.  As I began to pick it up, I was startled by a
tap at my window.  I rolled it down halfway and saw an elderly skycap
standing there, bent over, looking in.

"I'm sorry, Miss," he began.  "Didn't mean to scare you.  I'm afraid
you'll have to move along.  This area's for passenger loading and
unloading only.  If you need to park, the entrance to the lot is about
a hundred feet ahead, on the left."

I nodded blankly and rolled the window back up.  Adjusting my
odd-feeling body in the seat, I leaned forward and turned the key.  I
couldn't get used to the sight of those long red nails on the steering
wheel, and I watched them glisten in the light as I put the car into
drive.

The car didn't budge.  Oh, no -- it can't be broken down!  Don't make
me get out of the car dressed like this!

I had forgotten the parking brake.  After a quick search I located the
lever and popped it, and the car pulled away as I began to drive.  I
was headed nowhere in partucular, and drove for hours just thinking
about my predicament.  What was I to do?

The pumps I wore felt really odd and slippery against the pedals, and I
had to find a new way to position my feet so as to keep control of the
car.  I had no idea where to go.  I wasn't me, anymore.  I had been
spliced into someone else's life.

I was a nineteen-year-old woman, all of a sudden.  I was Jessica.  I
was --

About to get married!

"Damn it!" I screamed in her voice, which was lovely even in anger.
"Jessica, what am I supposed to do?  Take your place?"

Damn!  That was it!  I was a stand-in for a woman who wasn't sure she
wanted to get married!  Suddenly, her burden was on me!  Well, no way,
sister!  I'm out of here.  You get your ass back here and face your
problems like a big girl!  I'm locking myself away out of sight, maybe
in a motel, for the next month, until this whole stupid marriage thing
blows over.  You wasted your time, sweetheart -- no wedding, no how!

But as I drove along, something occurred to me.  How could I let
Stephen be so cruelly disappointed?  He was my best friend -- it would
kill him if Jessica backed out.  He adored her.

But that wasn't my problem.  I wasn't responsible.  He'd be crushed, I
knew, but it wouldn't be my fault.  There was nothing I could do about
it.

Yes, there was.

Damn it, Jessica!

Halfway home, I pulled into a motel.  I needed time alone, to sort
things out.  As I got out of the car, I felt so light on my feet that
it seemed I could fly.  Jessica weighed only 110 or so, after all, and
I had been a good 170.  I found that if I walked on the balls of my
feet I could manage the high heels without too much trouble, though it
wasn't easy at first.  Fortunately, Jessica had left about two hundred
dollars in cash in the purse, so I paid in advance at the check-in
counter and was handed a key.

As I signed the bill, I noticed that when I signed 'Jessica Ryan,' it
was in my old handwriting!  At least that had not changed, but I
wondered what trouble that fact might cause down the road.  I'd have to
practice Jessica's signature -- surely there was an example of it in my
purse, on a driver's license or something -- unless I was lucky enough
to have her come back quickly and return me to normal.

Once in the room, I locked the door, dropped the purse on the bed and
gazed into the large mirror above the dresser.  It was incredible.
There Jessica was, in all her female glory.  I couldn't get used to
seeing her in the mirror instead of myself -- I constantly felt that
she was there with me, standing just behind me, her perfume filling the
room.  She was a sexy fox in a sexy red suit, with long, silken legs
and curves that didn't quit!  I took off the blazer to find what I have
since learned is called a camisole underneath.  I had never worn a
blazer without a dress shirt in my life, as male fashion dictates.  I
then unzipped and stripped out of the skirt, letting it fall to the
floor.  It felt so strange -- and kind of nice -- as it slid down my
silk-clad legs into a clump around my feet, and I stepped out of it.

Jessica had dressed me as I imagined she always dressed herself,
feminine to the extreme.  No pantyhose, here -- nothing less than a
black garter belt and seamed stockings adorned me.  And damn, I had
great legs!  Above, under the camisole, I found a black bra that seemed
barely capable of containing the bountiful breasts that overflowed its
satin and lace cups.  I stood there, transfixed, staring at the
gorgeous figure of the luscious woman in the mirror, dressed only in a
pearl necklace, a bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and pumps --
trying to remind myself that she was me.  Heavens have mercy!  I
thought of a line from the Sheena Easton song, 'Strut' -- "Nations go
to war over women like you..."

I had suddenly become a woman over whom any nation would try to conquer
the world.

I explored the softness of my new body.  It was indescribable.  I had
never ever felt as vulnerable and as special as I did at that moment.
No longer did I feel the social power of maleness, the need to protect,
to take command.  Nor did I feel the physical power of the male form I
had once had.  It was as if I had suddenly become a glorious and
fragile work of art to be cherished and protected and admired.  It was
not a feeling I had ever had before.

I kind of liked it.

My curiosity running wild, I reached up and began to unfasten the front
hooks of the bra.  One by one they let go, releasing my new bounty a
little more with each one.  Finally, the last hook came free and the
bra fell away.  I peeled its straining cups free of my breasts, and
gazed into the mirror in rapt fascination.  Before I dropped the shiny,
delicate bra to the floor, I read the tag on it.

Victoria's Secret, 34D. And snug at that!

Mercy!

I had never before seen Jessica naked, though I must confess I had
often imagined it.  Stephen, you lucky son of a gun!  What a bustline I
had inherited!  They were firm, and huge, and proud, breasts like I had
never seen before.  They felt so unreal, so wondrous, so warm.  I
cradled their weight in my diminished, dainty palms, actually enjoying
them.  As I watched, my new nipples reacted to the coolness of the air
until they had become hardened thimbles of flesh.

Part of me was freaking out at the extremity of my transformation, yet
another part was luxuriating in the wondrousness of the new me.  An odd
excitement gripped my throat.  I ran my hands gently down my sides.  So
smooth, so perfect I had become!  No centerfold ever printed could
compare itself to the body I saw before me.  I was in love!

I slipped out of the panties I wore and sat on the bed, then, still in
front of the mirror.  The sexy girl reflected before me wore only her
pearls, stockings, and pumps!  I posed for myself, holding my pearls in
my teeth as I had seen so many Playboy models do.  I spread my legs
only wide enough to allow a tantalizing view of the precious flower
nestled there.  Then, reaching down slowly with fearful fingers, I
began to explore the new flesh between my slightly spread thighs.  Oh,
my -- I leaned back on one arm, eyes closed, and gently touched myself.
In only minutes, the pleasure that swelled from there blossomed into
fireworks that shook my very being in a way I had never imagined.  I
felt a great wetness at my fingertips as muscles I had not had before
contracted again and again --

There are no words to describe it.  There just aren't.

I came down from it and looked into the mirror again.  I realized only
then that feminine moans of pleasure had escaped my lips, culminating
with cries of ecstasy that must have been heard in the next room.  It
was as if I was remembering what I had done while possessed by another.
It had been an orgasm, the most intense I had ever felt.

Oh, mercy --

I lay back onto the cool bed.  What a picture I would have been for the
maid to discover (I hate how they just barge into rooms the way they
do!).  I remembered the orgasm, savoring it, cherishing the memory.  I
began to wonder what actual sex with a man felt like.  I mean, just
imagine!  I was certainly equipped to find out, if I wanted to.

And the next night was supposed to be my wedding night -- !

I started to reconsider.  I mean, maybe life this way wouldn't be so
bad for a little while.  And it would keep Stephen from being so badly
hurt, and Jessica's parents and all her relatives wouldn't be
embarrassed by a last-minute called-off wedding --

Did I dare?  Did I dare wear that dress and walk that aisle and say
that vow and kiss that man, in front of God and everybody?  Could I let
a friend I had known all my life, as a man, make love to me as his
wife, a woman he loved?  How weird would that be?  Could I possibly
just get lost in my sudden, intense womanhood and forget I had ever
been male, and spread my legs for him and actually let him, well, mount
me and penetrate me with his, well --

It would be a perfectly normal act, right?  I mean, I was still human,
right?  I still had two arms and two legs and a head and feet and hands
and all, delicate and lovely though they were.  It wasn't as if I had
turned into a warthog or space alien or something.  I was still human,
I was just -- female.  I had simply assumed the opposite role in the
great reproductive drama of man.  Women are equal to men, right?
There's no disgrace in living as one, loving as one, being one --

Could it be so simple?  Should a normal heterosexual male even consider
something like that?  Could he?  For that matter, mentally, was I even
a normal heterosexual male anymore?  Or had my mind been as utterly
changed as my body?

I had always thought it so silly the way teenage girls and women had
made such a fuss about makeup and nails and hair, complaining so
whenever they got a broken nail or a run in a stocking.  But suddenly,
it all seemed to make so much sense --

Was I actually feeling feminine pride in my body?

I closed my eyes, and in minutes I had fallen asleep.

                                 * * *

I awoke in a darkened room, momentarily disoriented.  Sitting up, the
weight and jiggle of my breasts suddenly shocked me back into full
realization of my situation.  I glanced over at the alarm clock next to
the bed and saw that it was almost nine-thirty.  I had slept for five
hours!  Whatever process Jessica had used to transform me into her
duplicate had apparently taken a lot out of me.

Switching on a light, I quickly dressed in the clothes I had earlier
removed.  Going to the bathroom first, however, was an adventure in
itself.  That would take a little getting used to.

Dressed once more, I paused to check myself in the mirror.  Nothing was
showing that shouldn't be.  At least I hoped not -- I was new to this,
after all.  Boy -- getting dressed is a whole different animal when its
a woman's body you're stuffing into your clothes, and when its women's
clothes you're stuffing it into!  In my purse was the same lipstick I
wore, so I took out the tube and glided it thickly across my lips.  How
feminine that made me feel!  The rest of my makeup still seemed fine,
so I just brushed my hair a little and felt satisfied that I was
presentable for public inspection.

I drove home.  Realizing at the last minute that it was my own
apartment I was headed for (habit is hard to break, even in heels!), I
took a different exit and headed for Jessica's place.

Boy -- what if she was there?  I mean, suppose there were two of us
now?  What if her parents or Stephen were there, too?  It was her mom's
house, after all.  How would I explain myself?  How would she?

Geez -- here I was, sealed maybe forever into a woman's flesh, wearing
women's clothes and makeup and facing the prospect of being a bride
within twenty-four hours!  It was impossible!  How could it be?  How?

I arrived at Jessica's place.  I felt terribly self-conscious as I
walked up the drive and onto the porch in women's clothes, my heels
clicking on the pavement.  Looking down, the owner's view I had of my
body was incredible.  Gathering my nerve, I took one final deep breath
and walked into the front door to find her mother, sister, and aunts
already there.  Her mom rushed over and hugged me the second I walked
into the door.

"Sweetheart!  Oh, I've been so worried...you missed the rehearsal
dinner and everything!  Are you all right?"

"Yes, Mom," I replied.  "I just, well, had to get away to think.  I
lost track of time, I'm sorry."

"Mom?  Not Mama?" she asked, looking at me funny.  "Will you be okay
tomorrow, without the final rehearsal?"

I laughed it off.  "Oh, sorry, Mama.  I swallowed wrong.  Sure...I'll
be fine." I looked around the room at all of the relieved, female
faces.  I only recognized one -- that of Jessica's sister, Casey, whom
I had dated a few times.  "I'm not feeling too great," I said, heading
slowly toward Jessica's room.  "Pre-wedding jitters, I guess.  I'm
going to go lay down."

"Okay, dear, you do that," 'Mama' said, stroking my hair lovingly.  I'm
so glad you're safe."

"Casey," I asked, gesturing toward the seventeen-year-old, "would you
mind coming with me?  I'd like to talk to you."

"Sure," she said, rising to follow me.

I didn't have a clue what I was supposed to do, wedding-wise nor
woman-wise.  I needed help, and I knew it.  I decided to take a chance.
A big one.

I closed the bedroom door behind us.  I knew the girl was extremely
open-minded -- she believed in UFOs and reincarnation and all that
stuff.  "Look, Casey...you've been in on all the planning of this
wedding, right?"

"Sure," she said, sitting on the bed.  "I guess so."

"Well...I need to confide in you." I sat beside her, extremely
conscious of my new figure, my new legs, and my exquisite perfume.  I
crossed my legs, sitting in as ladylike a manner as I could.  "I have a
big problem, but I don't know how to tell you about it."

"Just tell me," she said, in the tone of a happy, supportive sister.
"What is it?"

"Well," I began slowly, "I need your help with this wedding, and maybe
with my life in general.  I don't know what to do.  See, I'm not, well,
I'm not who you think I am."

She smiled, thinking it was a game.  "And who are you, Jess?"

"I'm not Jess," I replied.

She smiled.  "Stop teasing."

"I mean it.  I mean, I am Jessica Ryan, now.  But I wasn't before."

"Oh.  who were you before?  Are we talking past lives?  Were you Marie
Antoinette?" She was trying to figure out what game I was playing.
"You're making fun of me."

"No, I'm not.  Listen, Casey...I was Kevin Grover."

At that, she laughed out loud, covering her mouth with her hands.  "I
don't get it, Jess.  What's the game?"

"It isn't a game, Casey.  Your sister somehow turned me into her exact
twin, and then vanished.  She said she was troubled over the wedding
and had to get away to think things over.  Apparently, I'm supposed to
stay here and carry on with her life until she gets back."

She looked at me strangely, unable to figure out why her sister would
say all these things.  She played along.  "Okay, Kevin," she began
sarcastically and playfully, "why would she do that to you, and not at
least do it to some girl?  Wouldn't that have been easier, having
someone with a girl's body to begin with?"

"I don't know.  She said something about 'one in a million.'"

"Oh, I see.  So, Kevin...how do you like being a girl?" She didn't
believe a word.  Of course, she didn't.  Who would?

"Look," I began again, "I know you believe in aliens and all that.
There isn't a bigger X-Files fan anywhere."

"So, aliens turned you into my sister, Kevin?  I didn't know they did
sex-changes aboard UFOs.  Do you like being a girl now, like me and
Scully?  Did you meet her while you were up there?" She laughed.  "Did
you have an alien's baby?"

"No.  Aliens didn't do this.  At least, not as far as I know.  I just
meant that you've always been open-minded to the supernatural.
Listen...  I'm not kidding.  I really am...or was...Kevin Grover."

She frowned a bit.  "I don't get it, Jess.  This isn't funny."

"It isn't supposed to be.  I'm serious...until this afternoon, I was
Kevin."

She shook her head.  "That's enough...stop, now."

"I dated you a few times.  Ask me something only Kevin would know.  The
tiniest little thing, it doesn't matter.  Just as long as it's
something I would remember."

"Okay, okay.  I'll go along.  But this isn't fun anymore." She thought
for a moment.  "What movie did we see?"

"'True Lies.'  But you might have told Jessica about that.  Ask
something harder."

She thought again.  "What did I break in Kevin's car?"

"The radio knob."

She smiled.  "He must have told you about that."

"Try again."

"Okay...what did I do after he dozed off in his apartment, the third
time we dated?  I know he wouldn't have told you about this, because he
was really embarrassed about it and made me promise not to tell anyone
about it, ever."

"You did my toenails, Casey -- with that dark pink nail polish you
had."

Her mouth fell open.  "How did you know that?"

"I was there, remember?  I'm Kevin."

She looked deeply into my eyes.  "I...I don't believe you."

I picked up a piece of paper.  "Do you still have the note I sent you
after our last date?"

"Yes."

"Get it." She rolled her eyes, went across the hall to her own room,
then returned a few minutes later.  I picked up a pen.  "Okay -- read
me the first two lines of the letter."

She smiled.  "Why?  This is silly, Jessica."

"Humor me.  Read."

"'Dear Casey -- thanks for the great time at the concert.  I just
wanted to drop you a line and let you know that I had regained my
hearing.'  He's so funny.  I really like him..."

I wrote the words down as she read, making sure she saw me do it.
After the two lines, I signed 'Kevin' and handed it to her.  She looked
at the original letter and then at my paper, comparing the words and
signature.  Her eyes went wide.

"I really AM Kevin, Casey.  I was, anyway.  But now, I'm your
sister...maybe for the rest of my life, for all I know."

"Write what I say," she ordered, still testing me.  "Four score and
seven years ago...purple octopus...tree in the kitchen...airplane
cupcake."

I wrote the words.  She looked at them, comparing the letters of each
word to others I had already written.

Then, she looked up into my eyes.

She believed.

"You ARE!" she finally said.  "How...how did...how..."

"I don't know.  I just am."

She stood up and paced the room.  "Jessica's okay, isn't she?  Where is
she?"

"I don't know.  She had plane reservations, probably under an assumed
name.  I'm sure she's just fine, wherever she is.  I woke up in her car
at the airport, dressed like this, in her clothes."

"But how could she do this to you?  That doesn't make any sense.  It's
not like she has magical powers, or anything."

"I don't know, Casey...but she did.  Or, someone she knows did."

She looked at me as if she had never seen Jessica before.  Sitting
close, she peered deep into my lovely eyes.  She gazed at my shiny
hair, my full, red lips, my long, perfect nails, my flawless
complexion.  "No way," she concluded.

"At the concert, you wanted a t-shirt but they were sold out.
Afterward, you paid a girl at the pizza place we stopped at double for
hers."

"I never told Jess that."

"I was there...at the booth in the corner near the jukebox where we
were sitting."

"You're really in there, Kevin?  Wow!  I mean, what is it like for you?
I've wondered what it would be like to wake up one day and be a boy,
but you're living it!  Wow!" She jumped to her feet.  "I mean, you're
ALL girl in there, under that skirt?"

"Totally.  Everywhere."

She sat back down beside me.  "How must that be for you?  Do you like
it?"

"It's...interesting."

I told her all of what had happened, sparing her my masturbatory
experiment.  She was fascinated, watching me closely as I spoke.
"Wow...the way you just gestured while you were talking...shaking your
hand in the air that way...Kevin does that.  It really IS you, Kevin.
Oh, wow...I can't get over this."

"Neither can I."

"Are you going through with the wedding?  You can't marry another man."

"Casey, I'm hardly a man anymore.  Physically, I'm everything Jessica
is.  Pure female.  I've been running this through my head over and
over."

"You'd really have sex with Stephen?"

"I just can't let my best friend be crushed...if I jilted him at the
altar, he might never recover."

"True...he really, really loves you."

"He really, really loves Jessica."

"Well, you ARE Jess, now.  Get used to it.  At least, until further
notice." She suddenly looked angry.  "That little witch...how could she
have done this to you?  I guess I don't know her as well as I thought I
did.  I never thought she'd hurt someone like this."

"Actually, she did it because she was trying to avoid hurting people."

She looked me over again.  "Really...do you like being a girl?  Could
you live this way and be happy?"

I smiled.  "I think so.  It's kind of nice.  This might actually be
fun.  I'll sure get to see how the other half lives."

"Wait 'til your period starts in a couple of weeks.  That's a hoot."

I hadn't even thought of that!

"Casey, listen...you don't have to answer if you don't want.  You've
had sex, right?"

"Sure.  So have you...I mean, Jess has.  But if my mom ever found out
about either of us..."

"Tell me about it.  What will sex as a woman be like for me?"

She thought about it.  "Well, I guess it depends on if you want it or
not.  Do you think you can let a man make love to you?  Can you get
into being a woman enough to embrace the role?.  Sticking a part of
your body into someone else is part of a male, 'conqueror'
mentality...it takes a whole different mindset to allow someone to
stick a part of their body up into the most private part of YOURS...and
like it."

"You sound like a psychiatrist."

"I'm going to be one."

"Anyway, I've always been in charge, you know?"

"You have to forget all that.  It turns guys off, except for the ones
into female domination, I suppose, but I haven't been with anyone like
that.  You have to be passive...let him be in control.  That probably
won't come easy for you.  The closeness is wonderful, if you really
like the guy.  But guys get done faster than we do, so you usually have
to finish up in the bathroom, if you know what I mean."

"I think I do."

"And make sure he uses a condom, unless it's Stephen and you want to
get pregnant."

"Of course, it would be Stephen.  What do you think I am?"

Casey laughed at that.  Then the word hit me.

Pregnant.

"I don't think I could ever be ready to handle having a baby."

"If you're a woman, it's the most natural thing in the world.  Just go
with the flow, sis...I know that Stephen and Jess both have discussed
kids, and they've been talking like two or three."

"But what if I get pregnant, then Jessica comes back and wants her life
back, and I become Kevin again?  What happens to the baby then?"

"Maybe it goes into her.  I don't know.  Don't think about that...just
do what you have to do."

She smiled and took me by the hand.  "I'll help you through this, JESS.
I'll show you everything a woman needs to know, anytime you need me."

We hugged.  "Just help me get through this wedding tomorrow,
Casey...That's the first hurdle."

There was a knock at the door.  'Mama' peeked in.  "You girls need to
be getting to bed, don't you?  It's after midnight...tomorrow's a big
day."

"Okay, Mama," Casey smiled.  The woman closed the door and left.  Casey
looked into my eyes once again.  "If this IS a joke, Jess, and somehow
you've mastered Kevin's handwriting just so you could fool me with all
this, you're dead," she smiled.  I wasn' t too sure she was kidding.

"Girl scouts honor," I said, holding up my hand.  "Inside this
beautiful, sisterly package is one confused teenaged boy."

"Okay...well, we'd better keep this little secret between us.  No one
but me would ever believe it, anyway.  And we'd better get some sleep.
Tomorrow's going to be very interesting for you."

She kissed me on the cheek and left.  Once I was alone, I removed my
clothes and arranged them over a chair.  The bra was the last thing to
go, leaving me naked within the incredible female flesh that had become
my own.  Digging through a dresser drawer, I discovered a slinky black,
hip length nightie that hid absolutely nothing.  Holding my arms in the
air, I let it parachute down over me until it draped softly over my new
form.  It was so sheer, my nipples were clearly visible beneath its
cool, whisper-thin fabric.

Stephen -- you lucky bastard!

I used the bathroom, then turned out the lights.  The bed had satin
sheets, and I must say that I never expected to feel such luxury in my
lifetime.  It was incredible!  However, as the night wore on, I didn't
sleep well.  It seemed that no matter how I laid on the bed, my huge
breasts were in the way.  I had always slept on my stomach as a boy,
but that was no longer possible.  The nightie I wore was comfortable
enough, what there was of it.  And shaved legs feel great between clean
satin sheets, let me tell you!  But even with all that, I'm sure I got
no more that two or three hours, tops.

                                 * * *

"I can't believe you slept in your makeup last night," Casey said,
zipping up my wedding gown.  "Your pillow looked like Tammy Faye Bakker
exploded all over it."

"I didn't know any better," I answered.  "I never wore makeup before.
I'm doing good to know how to pee right now...these little details will
have to be taken care of as I go along."

She had awakened me at nine and then, after laughing at my raccoon-like
appearance, she had cleaned me up with cold cream and who knows what
else.  My appointment at the salon had renewed my hair and my gorgeous
visage, and I was once again as lovely as a Greek goddess.  We'd
arrived at the church at three, and the crowd out in the chapel had
grown steadily since I had begun dressing for the big event.  At the
moment, I was alone in the dressing room with Casey.

"This can't be happening," I said.  "I knew I'd get married one day,
but I kind of assumed I would be the groom at my wedding."

"Hey...enjoy it.  You're the focus of the world's attention today.
Stephen's just window dressing."

"But I'm not used to being a girl yet, never mind being a bride.  Don't
let this calm, pretty face fool you.  And that's another thing...why am
I so calm?  Gee, Casey...I must be in denial or something.  I'm not
freaking out the way I should be."

"Well..." she began, smiling.  "Maybe, deep down, you really like being
a girl.  Maybe you're glad this happened.  Maybe you secretly wanted to
be a woman, all along."

"You think so?  I don't remember thinking that...I couldn't have..."

"Deep down.  Subconsciously.  Maybe.  There no shame in that,
Kevin...ours is just as valid a gender as yours is."

"Right now, 'mine' and yours are the same thing.  Boy...maybe you're
right."

"Wait until tonight," Casey smiled.  "That'll be the acid test of this
whole thing.  Marring Stephen only to reject him on his wedding night
will hurt him as much as not marrying him at all."

"I know.  I've been thinking about that, believe me.  Don't worry,
though...I WILL be a dutiful wife.  I've decided that, period.  He'll
never know it's me and not Jessica."

"How will you know what to do?"

"Well, I just kind of figured I'd follow his lead and go along with
anything he wants to do."

"That may work, if you don't chicken out.  Have fun with it...and it'll
be great.  Relax.  And just so you know...Jess told me that he likes
oral sex, and she likes giving it to him."

"Oh, great.  I never even though of that.  Jessica really told you
THAT? Are there NO secrets between you two?"

"Hey," she smiled.  "We're sisters."

"Well, then, what's Jessica's favorite position...you know..."

"She has a couple of them.  One is sitting straddled atop him, bouncing
with him inside her.  She likes that one because he can caress her
breasts at the same time.  The other is from behind...you get on your
hands and knees on the edge of the bed and let him stand behind you."

"Wow...you guys really do share everything."

She smiled slyly.  "I like those positions, too, actually...and if you
were still Kevin, you might have found that out."

"What?"

"I always thought you were cute...those few times we dated, I almost
said 'yes.'"

"Just my luck.  Now you tell me, now that we're both girls."

"And sisters."

"Of course..."

She looked into my eyes.  "You're incredible.  If it was me in your
shoes, I don't think I could go through with marrying another guy, let
alone the sex.  That you can go through with all this to keep from
hurting others is just, well...you're my hero."

"He's been my best friend for ten years."

"Trust me...after tonight, he'll be your VERY best friend."

The door into the dressing room opened and Jessica's mother walked in.
She almost cried at the sight of me, she was so proud.  "Oh, dear,
you're so lovely...my dress looks like it was made for you."

"Thank you, Mama," I said, smiling.

"Lift your foot," Casey said.  I did, and she slipped a white satin
pump onto my stocking-clad foot.  "Now the other one." I did.

I stood before the full-length mirror, unable to believe that the
gorgeous bride reflected there was me.  As I stared, running my hands
lightly along the cool satin of the dress, Mama slipped a veil gently
onto my head and secured it with a few bobbie pins.  "There," she
smiled.  "Lovely."

As I stood looking at myself, I thought of my own family.  They would
never know that their son was a beautiful bride, about to walk down the
aisle with his future husband.  They'd never know that he had begun
life as a woman.  And a wife.  And, soon, as a mother.

They would grieve for their lost son, and eventually give up on ever
finding me.  There was nothing I could do about it.  Not unless Jessica
came back and freed me.

To be honest, looking into the mirror, I wasn't sure I wanted her to.

"Here," Mama said, reaching up toward my left ear.  "Something old...I
wore these at my wedding." She placed the post of a pearl earring
through my pierced ear, then affixed it and repeated the adornment on
the right side.  "They belonged to your great-grandmother.  So did
this..." She placed a matching necklace around my neck and fastened the
clasp as I carefully held my hair up out of the way.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're the prettiest bride I ever saw..." Mama said,
beginning to cry.  "So beautiful..."

"You really are," Casey said, nodding.

The music began.  It was time.

I walked down the aisle on Jessica's uncle's arm, my heart pounding a
hundred miles a minute.  Every eye was on me.  Stephen, up at the
front, was grinning like a little kid.  I noticed that his younger
brother was acting as best man -- I had forgotten!  It was supposed to
have been me!

As we held hands, the minister read the words.  I thought I might
hyperventilate as he finally reached the vows.

"Do you, Stephen Jesse Moran, take this woman to be your lawfully
wedded wife?"

I looked into his eyes, my heart racing.

"I do," he answered.

"Do you, Jessica Marissa Ryan, take this man to be your lawfully wedded
husband?"

I looked at the minister through my veil, then looked at Stephen.  He
loved Jessica so very much --

"I do," I said, my woman's voice small and fragile.

"By virtue of the authority vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife.
You may kiss the bride."

Here we go!  I leaned forward as he stepped closer and lifted my veil.
I closed my eyes and turned my head slightly, passively letting him
make his move.  He embraced me, holding me against him, and kissed me
long and hard and deep, and I kissed him back with all the feminine
love I could muster.  Flashbulbs exploded and a murmur swept the
gathered crowd.

It was official.  I was a woman.  A married woman.  A wife.

I was a WIFE!

I looked at Casey.  She was smiling, her hands up to her face as if she
couldn't believe I had really gone through with it.  Well, I had.  And
unless Jessica returned, I was going to live out my life as a wife and
mother, just as my real mother was doin g in another part of the city.

My real mom.  I was just like her, now.  Physically, I was just as much
a woman as she was.  The thought shook me.  I was her daughter, now,
and yet I was Mrs.  Ryan's daughter, too.

I felt so close to my real mom at that moment -- and I was saddened
that I could never see her again.  Why had I not thought of that before
that moment?  It had never occurred to me that I was losing my real
family.  Damn, it, Jessica -- !

We went back up the aisle as the organ played triumphantly.  After the
reception, Casey helped me change into my normal clothes -- it's so odd
to think of dresses and high heels as my normal clothes!  My
figure-hugging white dress with its plunging neckline, its short skirt,
and the white pumps I wore turned heads as my husband and I said our
goodbyes and hugged and kissed our relatives.  I thought it a rather
revealing outfit given the circumstances, but it was the way Jessica
dressed.  At least according to Casey, who picked it out of Jessica's
closet for me.

Beneath a shower of rice, Stephen and I left the church, headed for the
airport.  There was a bridal suite in the Bahamas waiting for us.  I
had ridden in cars with Stephen hundreds of times, so it seemed
comfortable and even normal to be doing so again.  But as we drove away
from the crowd, the car windows covered with risque messages in white
shoe polish, I constantly had to remind myself that I was not merely
Stephen's friend, but his newlywed wife.  That would take getting used
to.

I had never been able to spend any time with him as a woman, so I had
no experience with the side of Stephen that Jessica knew.  The last
time I had ridden with him, a couple of weeks before, I had been going
fishing with him, dressed in a baggy flannel shirt, ratty jeans and a
well-worn ball cap.  What a change since then!  Seeing the lovely,
immaculate hairstyle, the hoop earrings and the dramatic,
ultra-feminine makeup I wore in the visor mirror made that fishing trip
seem as if it had taken place a century before, if at all.

Perhaps I had always been this woman.  Perhaps the life as a man I
thought I remembered was no more than a vivid dream.  I almost wanted
that -- somehow, it might simplify things.

I quickly discovered that he spoke to me now in a much gentler, more
loving tone than he ever had to Kevin.  And the voice I myself now had
was like music -- he loved to hear it.  He loved for me to speak his
name.  He held my hand as he drove.  He told me again and again that I
was beautiful.  He told me again and again he loved me, and he meant
it.  At every red light, he leaned over and kissed me.  No man ever
loved a woman as much as he loved -- me.

Something was happening to my thought processes.  I was not merely
seeing Stephen in the way a close male friend would.  I found myself
seeing him as a woman would.  By the time we reached the airport, I was
leaning over to kiss HIM. In that half hour, I had forgotten the years
of male friendship between us and realized that I was, well, in love
with him.

As a wife should be.

He opened my car door for me, and, as I clutched his arm, we headed for
our first-class seats.  How did Jessica ever give this up?  Was the
freedom to come and go, without marital attachments, in itself that
valuable to her?  Was she just crazy?  Or very, very foolish?

For the duration of the honeymoon, at least, I was the new owner of her
life.  He was MY husband, not hers.  I began to realize that I did not
want to turn her life back over to her, assuming she ever did come
back.

As our plane left the runway, my hand in my husband's, I hoped she
never would.  We sipped champagne and kissed as we headed toward the
island.  I noticed that our flight attendant was a very beautiful
woman, but I didn't notice as Kevin would have.  With no sexual
overtone at all, I appreciated her makeup, her hair, her perfume.  As
she saw to our every need, asking what we wanted for dinner, she leaned
close.

"What would you like, Mrs.  Moran?"

I liked being called that -- it gave me a thrill inside.  I smiled,
holding Stephen's arm.  "I'll let my husband order for both of us."

Fin