Carrolwood 13-15 (Patreon)

Chapter 13

“Solved!” Millmore shouted as he leapt into the air, throwing a fist up like Super Mario. “Of course. Of course. It’s so obvious.” He chuckled. I’ll get a confession tomorrow after school, he decided, as it was a bit late in the evening. 

Sitting back down at the Coleco Computer he’d modified to 21st Century standards, mostly by harvesting parts from an abandoned Nasa Robot, he puzzled over what to read next. The new Comic by TG Trini-tayh on the alluring website, TG Graphic Novels and Musings? Or, perhaps the latest offering from Joe 12 Pack? While trying to decide between the two remarkable sources of excellence, he took a quick spin by the Deviant Art page of meowwithus, enjoying the latest diabolical gender swapping tricks of the notorious Amy. She was quite the little scamp. As he looked over the panels of a new sequence in which a man’s ex-girlfriend turns him into a bride, Millmore thought, I wish my little sister would turn me into a girl…

Sort of. Not really. Maybe?

Chapter 14 

Carl got up early and did his hair. Put on his fresh faced, no make-up makeup look. He got dressed. It was still disconcerting to look in the mirror and see himself wearing a skirt, long, pretty hair and— that face. Hopefully, this would all be over soon. He’d had another dream where he and the guys had been hanging out— this time at the old quarry— diving and swimming, and once more Carl had popped out a pair of boobies, climbing out of the water…. 

Carl determined that he would definitely not be going near any pools of water any time soon.

Sunni combed her beard. Ran her hand through her short spikey hair. Done. She looked in the mirror— she’d had to raise the mirror so it didn’t cut her image off at the neck— and frowned. She did not like the sight of herself. She looked so— mean— it made people uncomfortable, which made her uncomfortable She wanted to get back to her old, sweet, loveable self. 

They both sent emails to Millmore demanding more than just, “Making Progress.”

All day, Carl and Sunni did everything they could to avoid each other. They refused to even look in the other’s direction. Carl spent time between classes and at lunch chatting with his new friends. Sunni spent the time grunting with the guys. 

The one time they’d been forced to pass each other in the hall, the flow of students making dodging each other impossible, Carl had slit his eyes at Sunni and said, “Jerk.”

Sunni, dead eyed, had said, “Brat.”

They each huffed and walked on, infuriated that the other was so infuriating. 

On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays they each had weightlifting instead of the usual PE class. It was a testament of sorts, I suppose, to the possibility of progress that girls had been allowed to lift weights, as this was a rather radical notion at one time. But, in order for their female athletes to compete with those at the other schools, modern science dictated they do strength training, and so as ever wanting to be the best, Carrolwood had been forced to acquiesce.

With the advent of co-ed classes, the weight room had become a steamy swamp of sexual tension. With the boys on one side, grunting, heaving massive weights, slamming them down, the girls could not help but experience a kind of primal attraction. The boys, meanwhile, discovered much the same. To the surprise of many a boy, the sight of a female loading a bar of impressive weight, lifting it, and throwing it over her head, was quite alluring. So, long, of course, the weight being lifted was sufficiently less than what they, themselves, could lift.

Strong, indeed, was the new sexy. Just not too strong.

Carl had always loved lifting. He was one of the strongest of the young men, and he enjoyed catching the females glancing over appreciatively at his muscled frame. Today, however, he felt much differently as he stuck his glossy head into the weight room, peaking around nervously. He’d struggled to settle on an outfit. On the one hand, he felt he would be too exposed laying back, legs spread, on the bench to do bench presses if he wore only the little short shorts. On the other, the leggings were— scandalous. His ass looked too good, and he did not want that sight to get burned into the brains of his classmates. He finally settled on both, pulling the lime green short shorts on over a pair of black yoga pants. He looked in the mirror, turning this way and that. His ass still looked far too sexy, but at least it would be obvious to everyone he was trying to be modest. He hoped? He’d slipped on a flouncy, open sleeved tank top with a plunging neckline.

He spotted Sunni, doing curls, talking to Matt. Hmpf. He thought, amused at the little weight Sunni was using. And what was the deal with her and Matt?

“Carli!” Kennedy called. “Come on! We’re about to start!”

Damn. Carl cursed inwardly. He had wanted to sneak in unnoticed, if that was even possible the way he looked now. Kennedy’s shout had made everyone aware of him, so he plastered a huge smile on his face and putting as much confidence as he could into his strut, sashayed into the gym, ponytail swaying.

The guys did most of their work solo. They sometimes shared a bench of a squat rack, but they did their own thing. Kennedy and the Lady Hawks liked to do group work outs, and she’d set up stations for them to as a circuit. Today was bench, squats, jump squats, split squats, then jump rope. They would do it three times. After hugs and air kisses, Carl looked at the weight loaded on the bench and said, "I’m gonna need more weight than that? I can, like, lift so much more.”

“Oh? Like this?” Kennedy said, stepping aside so he could see the bench behind her had 225 pounds on the bar.

“Omigod,” Carl said.

“I used to watch you sometimes. I mean, just to study your form.” 

“Yeah, right,” Carl said. It was good to hear a girl talk about him as he’d been.

The girls warmed up together, Kennedy taking the lead. Then, the circuit started. Carl made it through the first round, but he was surprised at how gassed he felt as he jumped rope— getting it caught up in his feet more than a few times. Of course, this brought some teasing comments from the girls. “You jump like a boy! Come on, Carli! Keep up!”

Carl took it all in stride, giggling at himself, rolling his eyes, shrugging. It was all part of being one of the girls. The change came— and surely you saw this coming— during the second circuit, when Carl lay back for the bench press. Now, I must point out, Carl could lift much more than 225 pounds. The weight of 225 was chosen as a weight he could lift many times, straining just at the end of the set. So, he lifted the weight with great confidence, knowing that he could easily push it back up once he brought it down to his chest.

It should also be noted that as Carl positioned himself and lifted the weight, Sunni watched, experiencing a flash of jealousy mixed with attraction as she drank in his strength and those gorgeous legs. Kennedy stood at the head of the bench, ready to spot Carl should he need help toward the end of the set, but she was distracted, as she knew he could easily lift this weight.

Carl lifted the bar, started to bring it down to his chest. Just then, the bar seemed to double or even triple in weight. Carl felt as if he were shrinking, getting smaller on the bench. His eyes went wide as the bar sank to his chest and began crushing his ribs. He made a squeaking noise, then gasped, “help!”

Kennedy grabbed the bar with both hands, but though she relieved some of the pressure crushing Carl’s ribs, she could not pull it up and off him. “Someone!” She said. “It’s too heavy.”

“Unh! Help!” Carl squealed. He planted his feet on the floor and arched his back, trying to get more power, to push, but the bar wouldn’t move. He felt powerless! He was on his back, staring up at Kennedy, whose face had gone red with strain as she struggled to help him. “Help!” Carl said again, feeling trapped, feeling like the weight would crush him, his heart racing as he began to panic.

Which is when a mighty beard came into view. Two big, strong hands grabbed the bar. Kennedy let go and stepped aside. Carl found himself staring up into Sunni’s face as his heart sank. No. Not her, he thought, even in his struggles. Why does it have to be her?

Sunni effortlessly pulled the bar from Carl’s hands, settled it safely onto the rack. There was a small cheer— guys and girls— and Sunni raised a fist. Carl rolled off the bench, face flush from the exertion, and— found himself looking at Sunni’s chest, which was not her pleasantly inviting chest of moments before, but a hard, Superman chest, all muscle. He tilted his head back, shocked to realize he’d shrunk. Both of their outfits had morphed to match their new mass.

Sunni looked down, smiled a half smile, clearly pleased at the new, bite sized Carl. “You okay. Shorty?”

“Shorty?” Carl fumed. “I totally had that.”

“With those little arms? Yeah, right.”

“Little?” Carl glanced in the mirror. His bulging biceps were gone. Pretty little arms, soft and round, as round as his narrow shoulders. “Oh…. No.” He glanced at Sunni’s arms. Mighty Pythons rigged with vein and muscle, bulging shoulders. The sight made Carl tingle. He struggled against an urge to touch that bicep, to squeeze and see how hard it was…

He put his hands against Sunni’s rock-hard pecs instead and pushed. “Jerk!”

Sunni let herself be pushed backward, chuckling. “You’re welcome.” She walked back over to the other side where the guys were watching, smirking, amused but also impressed by her rocking new body.

“Okay! Let’s get back to it!” Kennedy said, clapping drawing the attention away from Carl, who she could see was in agony. Carl, relieved to get back to thinking about something other than his new shame, went to the back-squat station, this time the one that had been set up for the other girls, and started to work. Throughout the rest of class, Carl and Sunni took turns glaring at each other.

The other kids all entertained a variation of the same thought when it came to Carli and Sunni: Get a room already.

Sunni’s Mom did a double take as she drove up, seeing the hulking figure of her daughter, now bulging with muscle. She may not even have recognized Sunni but for the fact that she was the only students at Carrolwood with such a studly beard. Sunni, still not used to her new size, bumped her head as she folded up her frame to fit into the front seat. It now felt even more of an improper fit for her with her new muscle mass, and she yanked the seatbelt across her chest, careful not to trap her beard, thoroughly annoyed at how small and cramped the car now felt to her.

“Your muscles are so big!” Mom gushed. “You must be able to lift a house!”

“I am not happy about it,” Sunni said, making a fist, watching the veins lacing around her bicep move. 

Mom put the car in gear. ‘Oh, I don’t know that it’s so bad.”

“I’m a girl! I’m supposed to be petite and cute and how am I ever supposed to get a boyfriend now?”

“You don’t have to shout at me,” Mom said. 

“I’m not— I don’t— I don’t know what to do. This is all so- weird.”

“I know what to do,” Mom said, as she turned onto the expressway instead of heading back to their house.

“Where are we going?” Sunni, as always, had a lot of studying to do.

“Well, we’re heading South on the Parkway. So….”

“Somewhere South?”

“Haha. Wait. You don’t remember.”

“Remember?”

“Um, happy birthday!”

“It’s not my…”. Sunni concentrated, remembered. “Oh! Wow. I can’t believe I forgot,” she said. “I can finally vote!”

“Oh, my little… er, girl is officially an adult.”

“And we’re going to Tiresian Gardens!”

“Just like every year.”

Sunni peddled her feet against the floor and clapped her hands. “Oh. This is so great. Thanks, Mom.”

“Well, this may be the last time,” Mom said, getting a little teary. “With you going off to college next year.”

“I’ll find a way to come home.”

“Oh, you’ll have all new friends then, and you’ll want to celebrate with them.”

“Mom…”

“It’s all just a part of life. You’ve got to spread your wings, fly away and leave the empty nest…”

Sunni leaned over and kissed her mom on the cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

Mom smiled, putting a hand to her cheek where Sunni had kissed her. 

“Let’s forget all about that and just have fun!” Sunni said. 

“Let’s.”

The village of Lady Mills, NJ had been established in 1687, and the downtown remained largely as it always had been: a shady green cluster of pre-colonial houses, simple churches and iron fences. Turn down Old Mill Road, and after passing over a covered bridge that spanned the calm, enchanting waters of the Tiresian River, you will find yourself in a charming little glen in which sits a sprawling Victorian Home all ginger bread and pretty towers, widows walks and weeping willows, which once housed the prosperous Throckmorton Clan, and which in 1957 had been converted into the now legendary Tiresian Gardens Tea Room

The current owner, Jenny Aielo, who referred to herself as the caretaker, was, indeed, the granddaughter of the original founders, and ran the tea house now with her son, Angel. Her grandparents had restored the home, which had fallen into some disrepair over the centuries, to its original glory and furnished the tea rooms with antiques from the 1600s, hung the windows with lace curtains and had even had such details as the table clothes and napkins made from materials and dyed in colors one would find in the era from which the house emerged.

To walk into Tiresian Gardens was to feel oneself swept into the past, back to a slower, more genteel time when people considered a taking an hour for tea and pleasant conversation not merely a diversion, but an absolute necessity in the preservation of one’s sense of self as a civilized human being. The desire to maintain this rarified atmosphere was so great among the staff and customers, in fact, that one was required to check all cellphones upon entry, lest the barbaric chiming of said infernal invention should jar everyone in the room and spoil their special time together.

As always this time of year, the forest that surrounded the Tea Room had begun to flare with the glorious colors of fall, the bright leaves reflected in the waters of the river. Sunni’s heart fluttered as she and her mother entered, checking their phones, greeting the smiling face of Jenny, who as always was bustling about the place, as ever a vision of contentment, as ever perfectly at home as the proprietor of a place referred to most often as “magical” by all so blessed as to pass through its doorway.

Sunni and her mother had been coming here on her birthday since as long as she could remember, and she had fond memories of when she was little, putting on her special dress and long white gloves. That had ended when she’d turned 13 and decided she was too sophisticated to play dress up but thinking back on those days still brought a smile to her face. “Right this way,” Angel said, leading them to a table in the back, next to a window that overlooked the gardens.

“Our table!” Sunni said, pleased and delighted that it all looked the same. It is a comfort, indeed, in the ever-changing modern world, to find a place such as this, where time itself seems frozen. It does give us some sense, does it not, of the possibility of immortality, the notion that some things live on?

“Our table!” Mom agreed with a sigh. 

They prepared to sit. Angel swiftly removed the delicate little antique chair from Sunni’s side. “One moment,” he said. “Please.” He pulled the chair away, grabbing a large, heavy, oaken chair and pushing it over instead. “For your comfort.”

Sunni smiled, but felt suddenly self-conscious about her giant size. It shook her out of her nostalgic haze. “I must look ridiculous,” she mumbled as she sat, placing the cloth napkin in her lap.

“You look handsome,” Mom said. “Now, no fussing. We are here to have fun on your special day.”

It is a testament to the wonderful power of the Gardens that Sunni did, indeed, manage to get lost once again in the location’s sweet nostalgic embrace. Soon, she and her mother were laughing, reminiscing, re-sharing their treasured memories, sipping their favorite teas and nibbling on the exquisite cakes. The sun descended, bathing the gardens in the soft golden light seen only in the fall, when the curve of the earth perfectly shapes those rays into a diffuse aura that paints the end of the summer in golden elegance.

As they left the Gardens at the end of that joyous time, it struck Sunni that her mother may be right. Next year, she would be off to college, and this could be the very last time the two of them would share this special time. A tear rolled down her cheek, a sob escaped her manly chest.

Mom put a hand on her back and said, “Oh” but she, too, had been overcome by the same thoughts, and the two of them climbed into the car, dabbing at their tears, and paused to look once more upon the sight of Tiresian Gardens, wondering if they would ever be here like this, together, again. 

The drive home was spent mostly in silence. Mom’s mind swam with memories— Sunni’s first steps, her first dance recital, the time she’d lost her two front teeth and had had the most adorable, gapped tooth smile. Sunni had turned her attention to her phone and what was NOT there: a single message from any of her friends wishing her a happy birthday. Could they all have forgotten? She’d forgotten, herself, she reasoned, so maybe? But, even Kennedy? She seethed at the thought, thinking of Kennedy and Carli, hanging out, talking about RBG, soccer. She started to send Kennedy an angry text. “U call yourself a friend…” Stopped herself. Deleted. Started again. ‘I guess we’re not friends anymore…”

“What is it?” Mom said, noticing Sunni’s pre-occupation with her phone, the stormy look growing on her face.

“Nothing,” Sunni mumbled.

“You seem upset.”

“It’s just—-“ Sunni glanced over and saw a grin on Mom’s face.

“What?” Mom laughed.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“No. You do. What’s funny?” Sunni could feel her anger building. Was even her mother turning against her?

“Look,” Mom said as the car turned the corner and headed toward the house.

“What—?” Sunni froze. There gathered on their front lawn and driveway— all the kids from school! “Mom!”

“Surprise!” All the kids yelled as Sunni and Mom pulled up at the curb.

Sunni jumped from the car, bumping her head, and ran to the kids, grabbing Kennedy and lifting her off her feet in a massive bear hug. “You remembered!” She roared as she set Kennedy back down.

“Like I would forget my bestie’s birthday,” Kennedy said.

“What’s this?” Mom said, tugging on Sunni’s elbow, drawing her attention to the big, black Cadillac Escalade in the driveway. 

The kids, who’d been partially blocking it, moved aside to reveal Dad, holding a fob. “Happy Birthday!” He said.

“What? NO!” Sunni said.

“You’re going to be off to college and you need your own car.”

Sunni ran to the car, running her hand along the smooth, shiny black surface. “Its… its….”

“Too big,” Dad said. “Too aggressive. I told— “

“Perfect!” Sunni said, grabbing her dad in another of her now crushing bear hugs, lifting him off his feet. “I love it!”

Dad hid his irritation behind an agonized grin that would have made The Joker jealous.

Chapter 14

Carl lay on his bed, phone in hand. “Like I care,” he said as he scrolled through the steady stream of pictures and videos popping up all over social media— #sunni18bday— smiling happy people, hugging and mugging for the camera. “So overrated,” he fumed. He put his phone down. Huffed. Picked it back to see more photos. More videos. Was, like, everyone there? He put his phone back down and buried his head in his pillow, stifling a scream. Sunni’s Mom had, actually, invited him. Kennedy had begged him to come.

As if.

Sunni. Ha!

While she was busy having her party on a school night, he would study. He grabbed his smarted. Read. A little. Picked up his phone. Surely, the party had wound down? NO! Ugh!

A knock on the door. Carl’s heart fluttered. Dan had been merciless when he’d seen his “Big” brother, all slender and petite. Carl was shorter than Dan now and certainly weaker. Dan had smirked down at him and made a point to bush against him as he passed, easily knocking Carl aside. Carl, thinking of all the times he’d twisted Dan’s arm, wrestled him down, was full of that anxiety again that had been consuming him since his changes started. He was sure payback was coming, and he knew there wasn’t much he could do about it. Sitting up, he looked at his skinny little arms and felt sick. Well, he would do his worst. That was for sure.

“Yes?”

The door creaked open.

“Dad?”

“Hey, kid,” Dad said. “Got a minute?”

“Yeah?” Carl said, pushing his hair back over his shoulders. Tired of always wearing skirts, he’d finally relented and put on a pair of jeans, but he still kept his knees together as he sat on the edge of his bed. “Am I in trouble?”

“No,” Dad said as he grabbed Carl’s desk chair and pulled it over to the bed, his eyes briefly falling on the hair and makeup accessories scattered across Carl’s desk. “Wow. We really need to talk more often,” Dad said, saddened to realize that most of the time when they did talk these days it was some form of “trouble.”

Carl felt strange sitting there in his feminine form, with his long hair and soft voice. It was always a little awkward talking to his parents anymore, but this all seemed so— wrong. “What’s up?” He said, seeing Dad struggling to find words.

“Well,” Dad said. “This is— let me just say it.”

Carl waited, though he did begin to idly twist one of his bracelets around his wrist. 

“This. All these changes. I just want you to know that I have always been proud of you, and nothing will ever change that.”

Carl felt misty. Fought against the tears he felt building up inside him. “Daddy,” he said, almost choking on the word. “Dad. Sorry. This thing—?“

“I know. And you don’t need to apologize. Ever. I’m here for you. I got your back.”

Carl looked away. “The other night? Family night?”

“I know,” Dad said. “It was— your mother is having a very hard time with this.”

Carl nodded. He didn’t know what to say. The tension was growing. He kind of wanted it to be over. “Well, thanks.”

“How about we play catch tomorrow?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Of course. Like old times.”

“I’d like that,” Carl said, now straining against the sudden urge to give Dad a hug. “Yeah. Catch.”

“It’s a date— “ Dad said. “I mean, we’ll…”

Okay. This is getting weird, Carl thought. “After school,” Carl said. “Catch.”

“Right.”

They both sighed with relief. Dad started to get up. Stopped. “One more thing.”

Something about his tone filled Carl with dread.

“I talked to your brother. I told him— you know. Things are different now. As long as you— your condition.”

“Dad!”

“He’s a lot bigger and stronger, and he needs to realize that.”

‘I can take care of myself!”

“I know. I know. Well, anyway, catch tomorrow.”

“Yuppers.”

Dad left. Carl raised an eyebrow even as he felt himself dying with shame at the idea that Dan and Dad had had a talk. About him. He knew what was unsaid. Carl was “a girl” now and had to be treated differently. It made him so mad! Dan would never let him live this down!

And yet, why was he also— he didn’t know— kinda a little emotional over the fact that his Dad was being— protective?

Once more, Carl buried his face in his pillow and screamed.

Chapter 15

Though Sunni had thoroughly enjoyed her birthday and was loving her big, powerful new SUV, she drove to school eager to find Millmore and see if they could finally put an end to this unwanted adventure. True, she fully intended to use this experience to write an essay detailing the insights she’s gained into gender and power so there was a silver lining, but Sunni very much wanted to get back to being Sunni.

Carl, glancing in the rearview mirror to check his makeup as he pulled into the school parking lot, felt very much the same. He did not want to spend his senior year as one of the girls, and though he was quite certain that his time hanging out with the girls had been most informative, he was also very certain he preferred to be a young man. He parked his car, only to have a big, black SUV pull into the spot next to his. Carl sighed. His plan to avoid Sunni at all costs was already a failure. He climbed out of his car, tossing his hair as Sunni jumped out of hers. 

“Um, happy birthday,” he said, unable to stop himself from tilting his head back and offering her a pretty smile.

“Thanks,” Sunni said. “It was tight.” She couldn’t help but notice how pretty Carl looked. It just popped out. “You look cute.”

“Thanks,” Carl said with a giggle, hooking his hair behind his ear. He couldn’t help himself. But, he then focused and made himself get serious. “Millmore,” he said.

“Millmore.”

They had a little time before homeroom, so they stalked the halls hunting for their supposed savior. Really, they couldn’t help but wonder what was taking him so long. What kind of genius was he, anyway? They were losing hope, when they both stopped short, seeing a new girl in a little circle of girls who looked very familiar.

“Is that Betty? From Riverdale?” Carl asked.

“It looks like her,” Sunni said. “But she’s actually 25 or something.”

“What would she….?”

‘Oh, no,” they said in unison.

They marched up to her. Sunni took her by the elbow. “Bye, guys!” She called out to the girls she’d been talking to as Sunni pulled her away.

“Omigod,” she said to Carl as they found a quiet corner. “I love your hair!” She reached out to touch it, and Carl slapped her hand away.

“Millmore?” He said, looking in her eyes, trying to spot the dork within.

“Yeah,” she said with a little shoulder shrug. “But it’s Dorothy now.”

“What the hell?” Sunni barked.

“Oh, you know. I found the perps, and they made me a better offer. I mean?” She gestured down at her body. “And, I’m popular!”

“You sold us out!” Sunni said.

“Don’t yell at me!”

“Dorothy,” Carl said, adopting a soft, girl to girl tone. “It’s okay. You look super pretty.”

“Thanks.” A little eye roll.

“Just tell us who. That’s all. Who?”

Millmore made the lips are sealed and throw away the key gesture. “Can’t. Want to stay like this.”

The bell rang.

“Tell us!” Sunni roared.

“Buh-bye!” Millmore said, sashaying away down the hall.

“Women!” Sunni spat.

“Hey!” Carl said.

They looked at each other. Slit eyes. Turned and stormed off in opposite directions. After a few steps, they each realized they were heading the wrong direction for their homerooms. They turned and sheepishly headed past each other.

“Airhead,” Sunni whispered.

“Caveman!” Carl hissed.

Neither could resist the urge to glance back at the other as they passed, and they were each mortified to be caught in the act.

Carl went to class, but he had trouble concentrating. He plucked at his hair, looking at the way the light shone of its golden surface, contemplating the possibility he would have to spend the rest of his life as a girl. It was not merely Millmore’s metamorphosis into Lili Reinhart’s twin, but the larger implications, which had heretofore escaped Carl’s consideration. 

The villain had the ability to alter reality. Even if he and Sunni closed in on their tormentor, what was to stop their mutual enemy from merely cutting out that knowledge and splicing memories from a world where they did NOT close in? Their attacker had the ability to change things to suit them, even to the point of making Carl talk like a girl. Maybe even in this universe he and Sunni had figured out who’d done it, and the culprit had merely erased that knowledge from their memories?

Indeed, as per the multi-worlds theory, there was a universe where they did catch their attacker, one where they didn’t, one where their attacker just changed them back at some point, one where they married and had babies together…

What? Gross. Why did I even think that? Carl wondered. Sunni. She would be a terrible husband, he was sure, and besides, she was too— big. If he ever did date a boy, which, AS IF— it would be someone more suited to his size, Carl felt. They would need to be able to take cute pictures together.

And, enough of that, Carl decided. 

The teacher asked Carl a question. He’d barely been paying attention, but answered anyway, quoting the textbook, and then absently explaining why he felt the answer in the textbook was outdated. The bell rang. Carl slung his backpack over his shoulder and wandered out into the hall, smiling and greeting all his new friends. This is it, he decided. There’s really no way around it. I’m Carli now, and I will be for the rest of my life.

He found himself wondering when he would get his boobs. It was embarrassing to be flat chested at his age. Some of the chubbier boys had bigger boobs than he did, and much to his surprise and chagrin, he began to think about wearing a bra and stuffing the cups with toilet paper so at least he’d have SOMETHING.

Carl opened his locker and was just primping his hair when the door slammed shut. Carl turned. “Matt?”

“Hey, Carli.”

Matt put his arms against the lockers, caging Carl between them, then leaned in, their bodies close. Carl felt his space being invaded, and immediately his heart began to race, but he didn’t want to seem scared, so he tilted his face back and said, “You want something?”

Matt had a hard look in his eyes, and he moved a strand of hair away from Carl’s cheek, letting his fingertips just brush the soft skin. “Yeah. I wanted to tell you that you look so fucking hot.”

Carl giggled, despite himself, from nervousness and not because he liked the comment. In fact, everything Matt was doing made him feel- gross. Even Matt’s tone sounded to Carl like the tone of voice you might use when talking to a pet. “Okay!” Carl said, trying to duck under Matt’s arm. “Bye!”

Matt moved, putting his leg against the locker to block Carl from escaping. “We should hang out,” Matt said, moving closer. 

Carl felt Matt’s hot breath against his neck. “Um, I need to get to class, so…?”

Matt ran his finger along Carl’s ear, grabbed his earring and tugged. “Let’s meet after school.”

“Um…. “ Carl felt so small and scared. He didn’t know what to do. No one had ever acted like this toward him before, and his mind raced with shame and confusion.

“Bro!” Sunni shouted, barging into the scene. She held out her fist. “Bump it out.”

Matt looked at her, furious. The warning bell rang. Matt bumped Sunni back, which forced him to move one of his caging arms away from Carl. Sunni wedged herself between Matt and Carl, putting a protective arm over Carl’s shoulder and moving him away from Matt. “I need to borrow Carli for a minute,” she said. “Theater stuff.”

“Yeah. Good,” Matt said. “Catchya later.”

“Later,”

Carl felt himself overwhelmed with emotions. He still felt gross and helpless from the way Matt treated him, while at the same time his body flooded with feminine gratitude to Sunni, who’d saved him, protected him. The feelings scared poor Carl, and he twisted from under Sunni’s arm and marched off to class without looking back. 

Sunni watched, enjoying the sight of his skirt swishing, his long legs. She felt all kinds of confusion as well. When she’d first seen Matt getting so aggressive and pushy with Carl, she’d smiled, loving the idea of seeing Carl all meek and yielding. He deserves it, she’d thought. Let him see what girls have to put up with all the time! But then, when he’d turned to try and escape, she’d seen a look in his eyes— something— and she’d felt an overpowering need to— save him. It had just become something that she HAD to do, and she had, and it had made her feel like she’d grown to 10 feet tall and become bulletproof.

Sunni had seen the dated, sexist essays suggesting female had a genetic predisposition to find strong, protective men attractive. It was all part of seeking a mate who would care for and protect them while they were pregnant and vulnerable. Sunni had always rejected such retrograde thinking as more patriarchal nonsense trying to enforce the male= strong, female = weak paradigm. Now, however, she was having a hard time denying that she, at least, had totally loved the feeling she got from protecting a helpless female. Whether it applied more generally, she would not say, but it applied to her.

All day long, Carl found himself thinking about how scared he’d been when Matt cornered him, and how— fluttery?— he didn’t even know the word to use, it had made him feel when Sunni had rescued him. The whole thing bothered him on so many levels. For one, he was a guy, so he wasn’t supposed to— love— having someone protect him. For another, in the 21st Century even the girls in movies and on TV shows didn’t play the damsel in distress anymore. Rey didn’t need protection. She was badass. Ugh! Carl was horrified to think that not only was he becoming a girl, but some kind of old-fashioned damsel in distress type. Would he start having fainting spells?

Of course, and I intrude as narrator here more fully, Carl was not ready to confront one of the biggest reasons that his new personality so bothered him. Surely, as he was aware, merely finding himself becoming a bit feminine and submissive was reason enough, but deeper still was the reality that he was becoming the exact kind of girl he often fantasized about— one who wanted to be commanded, controlled, led.  It was a fantasy he harbored and never wished to become.

Nevertheless, Carl worked through his tangled emotions, and especially struggling with one particular question that seemed to disturb him now as much as the experience: should be thank Sunni for what she’d done? Naturally, he turned to his bestie for advice, explaining the whole incident to Kennedy.

Kennedy listened, loving every detail. Without hesitation, she said, “Yes. I mean, you really do need to thank him. The good ones are so rare.” In fact, Kennedy very desperately wanted Carli and Sunni to get together. She felt they were perfect for each other. And, she suspected that the thank you might lead to something more.

“Really?” Carl said. “I mean, I totally felt it was the polite thing to do, but I didn’t ask her to come along and butt in.”

“Thank him,” Kennedy said, using the male pronoun. “You guys have to be together in this play. It’ll keep things civil.”

“‘Kay,” Carl said, throwing his arms around Kennedy. “Thanks!”