Help! Chapter 16 The end. (Patreon)

Five Years Later

Sylvia Manchester stood by her teacher’s desk and watched her Senior English class enter. It was fourth hour, and they looked like they were a rowdy bunch. They were talking, laughing, passing notes, and generally acting rambunctious.

She was tired. It was the first day of school, and she was tired. She was tired of standing, talking, writing, and in general teaching. She had been teaching for 35 years...well, in a way.

Time was growing short. Her body was seventy-two years old. Her transfer had happened five years ago, and she still felt pangs every time she started a new school year as a female teacher and not as a male student.

She enjoyed teaching. She lived for those little moments when a student finally understood the beauty of Shakespeare, or when they read a passage from Robert Frost and became verklempt at the beautiful writing. But with every passing year, Sylvia forgot a little bit more of who she had been, became a little more Sylvia, a little less Jeremy.

“You will all take your seat and you will all be silent!” Sylvia used her most fierce teacher voice she had, slapping the blackboard with a ruler.

Once they were finally all seated, Sylvia scowled at them. “Welcome to Senior English. I have a phrase, I would like for each of you to remember and recite after me. “To be early,”

The class responded. “To be early.”

“Is to be on time,” Sylvia said.

“Is to be on time,” the class responded.

“To be on time,” Sylvia said.

“To be on time.”

“Is to be late.”

“Is to be late,” the class responded.

“To be late,” Sylvia continued, walking up and down each isle.

“To be late,” the class recited.

“Is to get detention!” Sylvia said.

“Is to get detention,” the class responded, some of them with grins.

“And you don’t want detention.”

“And you don’t want detention,” the class replied.

“Now, when will you arrive tomorrow?”

“Early?” Stephanie Bonsack said.

“Yes, Miss Bonsack.” Sylvia stood in the front of the room. “Is that clear, class?”

“Yess Mrs. Manchester!” they all responded.

“Now, open your books to page 30, Shakespeare’s A Midsomer Nights’ Dream.” Sylvia looked around. “Who would like to read first?”

Jason Holland’s hand shot up. “Excellent, Mr. Holland. Please begin.”

And as the child read, Sylvia walked up and down the aisles, snatching notes, and replenishing pencils.

***

After class was out for the day, Sylvia sat at her desk, grading papers. She had just finished a stack, when a very familiar voice spoke: Well now, isn’t this a pretty picture.”

Sylvia looked up and saw Jeremy. His voice still sent shivers down her spine, even now, five years later.

She looked up at him, a bit frightened of what he might do, but cleared her throat. “Mr. Fuller. What brings you to my classroom?”

He grinned. “Your classroom. I like the sound of that.”

Sylvia shivered as he looked at the blackboard.

“God this place never changes. Midsummer Nights’ Dream?”

“Indeed, young minds should know Shakespeare.”

Jeremy nodded his head. “I guess that’s true.”

“I see you’ve kept the blonde hair,” Sylvia said.

“Yeah, it...well. It grows pretty fast. Too fast.”

“Magically fast?”

“Indeed. And if I don’t take a regimen of testosterone and other pills, my body ends up transitioning whether I want it to, or not.”

“Interesting,” Sylvia said.

“I see you’ve gone with a black hairdo. It suits you.”

Sylvia patted her updo. “Well, if I don’t make regular visits to the salon, it goes grey very quickly and I have to monitor my diet carefully.”

In reality, she’d been studying magic and had learned some of Sylvia’s tricks. She was far from the magic-user Jeremy was...or had been, but she’d been able to keep her carefully crafted visage from deteriorating too rapidly. She couldn’t yet perform a reverse swap, but when she could...well, Jeremy would be her first visit.

As if reading her mind, Jeremy said: “I know you’re well on your way to becoming a practitioner, Sylvia,” Jeremy said. “Which is why I decided to come and see you.”

“Oh?” Sylvia sat forward. “And why is that?”

Jeremy sighed. “I think you have some twisted notion of regaining your body.”

Sylvia tried to show zero reaction.

“But I wanted to disabuse you of that action.”

“And if that were...a goal of mine...” Sylvia said. “Why would I be ‘disabused?'”

“You can take any body in the world you’d like.” Jeremy said. “But if you try to take this body again, we’ll both die in the process.”

Sylvia frowned. “Why would that happen?”

“We exchanged through the third eyes, Sylvia. Voluntarily. Should you try to force a return against my will...it will tear us both asunder.”

Sylvia nodded. She had actually read as much, but there were ways around it.

“I see,” Sylvia said.

“The only way it would work again is if I were to willingly participate.”

Sylvia nodded.

“And I won’t ever be willing.”

Sylvia stood up. “Well, you’ve made your point exceedingly clear, Mr. Fuller.”

“I just don’t want either of us to be hurt, Sylvia.”

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way our, Mr. Fuller!” Sylvia said, and ushered him out the door, slamming it behind him.

Later that evening, Sylvia returned home. She was still seething from the encounter with Jeremy, and angrily threw her keys onto the small table near the door.

“Hey hey,” Bruce said walking in from the bathroom. “That didn’t sound good. Are you okay?”

Bethany named himself Bruce and they moved in together. The relationship had never been the same after Sylvia swapped back with Jeremy, but they still loved each other albeit in a non-romantic way. Bruce had been on a few dates, and Sylvia had one outing with a nice gentleman, but neither found happiness without each other so they found peace together.

“Jeremy came to the school today,” Sylvia said, sighing.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Bruce said. “What did he say?”

In the five years since the swap, Bruce had become very masculine. The problem was he quickly grew hair everywhere except on his head, where he developed male pattern baldness a year after high school. He worked as a construction assistant, and his muscles had bulked up considerably.

“What did I say about wearing a shirt, Bruce.” Sylvia snapped at him. “You look like an ape.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and grabbed a t-shirt, pulling it on. “What did he say?”

“Lay on the bed with me, please,” Sylvia said, laying back on the bed.

Bruce complied. “It’s been awhile since we’ve cuddled.”

Sylvia nodded. Things were definitely complicated now. Neither of them felt a strong physical attraction to the other, yet they both loved each other dearly.

“So, are you going to tell me what he wanted?” Bruce said.

“He wanted to warn me not to try to swap back with him against his will.”

Bruce chuckled. “Sounds like he’s scared.”

“Well, he says to even try would mean death to the both of us.” Sylvia looked into Bruce’s eyes. “I think he’s probably right.”

“So does this mean you’re done trying to get back to being Jeremy?”

“I still have yet to find Jeremy’s Anapata and Sahasrara chakra,” Sylvia said. “I have hopes that once I find it, or them, I can force her to set things right.”

Bruce chuckled wryly. “It’s been five years. Don’t you think if they could be found, you would have found them by now?”

Sylvia shrugged. “I still have hope.”

Bruce nodded.

Sylvia stroked Bruce’s face. “Jeremy says he has to take testosterone and other pills just to maintain his masculinity. His hair is still platinum and grows magically fast.”

“Bastard,” Bruce said. “And here I grow hair everywhere but here.” He rubbed the top of his bald pate.

Sylvia looked into his eyes, tenderly. “You know that doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Hon, I’m twenty-three years old but I look like I’m forty-five.”

Sylvia turned over and straddled him. “You know that doesn’t bother me.”

Bruce kissed her, softly. “I know.”

‘We’re here, we’re together, we love each other.” Sylvia said, nestling her head on his chest after they kissed.

Bruce moaned softly, holding her tight. “You know how this makes me feel.”

“Maybe it’s time we tried again?” Sylvia said in a small voice.

Bruce grinned. “I like that idea.” And he turned her over, kissing her sensually.

<To be continued?>