by Alyson Belle
“Just, wow,” said Kyla. “Even better than I thought.”
“You look great, Mikala,” Amy said, smiling. His heart jumped a little when she called him that.
Kyla yanked the towel off the mirror across from Mike. He gasped.
Sitting in Amy’s desk chair, looking at him from the mirror, was a pretty teenage girl with flawless skin and huge, black-lined eyes who looked to be about Mike’s age. She could easily be his cousin. He raised a hand to touch his face and was shocked to see her do the same. He pushed a stray strand of hair back from his face, marveling at how realistic the wig felt, and watched as she mirrored his gesture. She managed to make it look sexy without even trying. He managed to make it look sexy without even trying.
He stood up from the chair, shocked, and walked towards the mirror for a closer look. Amy had been right. He looked just like a girl. Just like Mikala. Not virtnet Mikala, but how a real Mikala might look. He smiled then, and watched the girl in the mirror shoot a gorgeous smile back to him, white teeth dazzling between pink-glossed lips. He’d never felt so feminine and attractive. For the first time he wondered if Amy’s crazy plan could actually work. He turned back to the girls, both of whom were beaming at him.
“What do you think?” asked Amy.
“I look… beautiful,” said Mike, surprised to find how excited the idea made him feel. He’d never felt like this before in his life. It was exhilarating.
Then Kyla clapped her hands over her eyes and Amy snickered.
“What, what?” asked Mike.
Amy pointed towards his crotch, where a familiar, tight feeling was starting to push the skirt out a bit. He yelped and pushed it down. “What do I do about that?” he asked.
She tossed another, smaller pair of panties at him. “Tuck it back and hold it in place with these,” she said. “Between that and the tights, you should be fine.”
He ducked into the bathroom to do some adjusting under the skirt. It was a little uncomfortable, but she was right. He was held securely in place now.
“Okay,” he said, returning to the bedroom. “But what I actually meant is what do I do if Chuck gets a little… you know, frisky?” He gestured down at the skirt.
Kyla snickered again, but Amy was calm. “Easy,” she said. “Mikala is a good Catholic girl. Outside of virtnet, no under-the-skirt action. Definitely not on a first date, anyway. Real life isn’t like virtnet.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. She was right. He could just feign modesty if Chuck started getting too aggressive.
“Does this mean you’re actually considering doing it, now?” asked Kyla.
“I guess so,” he replied. “It’s weird. I thought this would be terrible, but I actually feel really… I don’t know how to explain it. Sexy and confident?”
“You should,” said Amy with a little smile. “You look hot, Mikala.”
“Okay. Now we know this works. Should we get you changed and take off?” asked Kyla.
“N-no!” said Mike. The girls stared, and he blushed again. Amy’s smile widened. “I just mean… wouldn’t it be good for me to get some practice as Mikala? Can we just hang out for a while? Maybe watch some music videos, do whatever?”
“Sure,” said Amy. “Whatever you want, babe.”
Kyla shrugged and laid down across the bed. She pulled her phone out and started thumbing through it. “I’ll find some music for us to listen to,” she said.
“Can you hand me that nail polish, Mikala?” asked Amy. “I just noticed we missed your nails. Come here, sit down.”
Preparation
The next day at school, Mike walked up to Chuck in the hallway, at his locker. Pete, never far away from Chuck, watched Mike with narrowed eyes as he approached and tapped Chuck on the shoulder.
“Huh? What do you want, Wantry?” Chuck asked, frowning.
Mike held out a folded piece of paper, trying to look more confident than he felt. “Mikala’s phone number,” he said. Chuck took it, looked at it. His face brightened immediately and he clapped Mike across the shoulders.
“Thanks man, thanks! You don’t know how much this means to me… I’ll text her right now.”
“N-no!” Mike said.
Pete and Chuck both looked at him. “Why not?” asked Chuck.
“Because, uh, because she’s in school right now. I don’t think she has her phone.”
“Oh,” said Chuck. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll text her at lunch then. Thanks again, Wantry! I won’t forget this. Come on Pete, let’s get to class.”
Chuck strode off but Pete hovered, watching Mike. He was wearing a muscle shirt today, both of his giant, veiny arms exposed for everyone to see. “She’d better say yes,” he said, eyes shining with menace. Then he was off after Chuck, leaving Mike shaking in the hallway. Last night, as Mikala, Amy’s plan had seemed so possible to actually pull off, but now he was having second thoughts… it was too late, though. Chuck had his phone number. He’d have to go through with or he’d have to deal with Pete.
The text came at lunch. He was sitting again with Kyla and Amy, in the locker bay, waiting for it. The girls were absorbed with their books. Mike was too distracted and nervous to do anything but wait. When his phone buzzed, all eyes went to it. Nobody texted Mike. It had to be Chuck.
“What’s it say?” Amy asked.
“He wants to take me out,” Mike said, wetting dry lips with his tongue. “He asked me what I’m doing next Friday.” His chest felt tight, and his thumbs hesitated over the keys on his phone screen as if unsure what they were supposed to be doing.
“What are you going to do?” asked Kyla. “It’s not too late to find another way to deal with this, Mike...”
“I think it is,” Mike said. “Pete’s going to come find me if I don’t say yes.”
His hovering fingers finally made their decision, plunged down and tapped out a frenzied response. He put the phone back on the ground and leaned his head back against the locker. After a moment, it buzzed again. He held it up, read the response, and put it back down.
“Well?” asked Amy.
Mike nodded, eyes closed. “Friday.”
“Gosh,” said Kyla.
“What does he want to do?” Amy asked.
“A movie, I guess.”
Kyla snorted. “A movie? Like in a theater? When we have virtnet?”
“I think it’s nice,” Amy said. “Very traditional! And dark, which is handy.”
Mike nodded his agreement, though the thought of any date twanged his nerves like a guitar string. Dark theater or not, his stomach felt queasy.
Amy smiled. “Why so glum, chum? Cheer up!”
“What do you mean?” asked Mike.
“I mean Chuck is the hottest guy in school… Do you realize how big a deal it is that you got a date with him? He must really like you.”
Mike blushed. “You mean he likes Mikala.”
“Whatever,” said Amy.
They spent the next week practicing with him. Every night the three of them would head over to Amy’s to get Mike dressed up as Mikala, and then they just hung out in Amy’s room. Whenever Mike’s voice dropped too low or he did something too masculine, they gently corrected him. Within a few days, Mike found, to his surprise, that he was starting to get comfortable as Mikala… he even looked forward to their hang-out sessions after school each day.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this included, or had this much fun. There was a naughty, taboo thrill that came with playing as Mikala. The girls taught him how to do his own make-up, and how to wash it off properly so it wouldn’t show the next day. They showed him how to sit and walk in more feminine ways. It all seemed to come naturally to Mike. Somehow, with Kyla and Amy treating it all as perfectly normal, the embarrassment of it started to fade. By Wednesday night, Mike felt almost confident as Mikala now, his father’s voice getting smaller and smaller in the back of his head under the consistent pressure of the girls’ gentle encouragement.
Before he kne
w it, Friday had arrived. He passed the day in a nervous daze, hardly seeing the people around him in the halls. Pete, satisfied with Chuck’s date excitement, had avoided Mike all week, although he’d thrown Mike the occasional mean look here and there to remind him that Mikala had better show up.
And then he was heading to Amy’s for one final primp session before Chuck picked him up at 7:00 for a movie. He and Kyla swept in without ringing the doorbell to find Amy upstairs, hemming and hawing over different outfits laid out on her bed.
“What do you guys think?” she asked. “Dress or skirt?” She was holding up a knee-length blue A-line dress in one hand and a short black skirt in the other that would cut across him at mid thigh, a few inches higher. “You shaved your legs this morning, right Mikala?”
Mike nodded, feeling strange to have her call him that before he was even dressed. But the girls had been doing it all week to get him used to it. “I think the skirt is better for a date,” he said. It popped out even before it consciously registered that he’d be the one wearing it, but it was still true.
Amy smiled and Mike blushed. “I thought you might say that. Naughty girl.” She tossed the dress into a pile of discarded clothes behind her and reached for a top to match the skirt, a little red blouse the same shade as the lipstick and shoes he’d chosen for the date tonight. Mike grabbed the pile and headed for the bathroom to get changed.
Amy had given him a black lace bra and panty set for the evening, sexy and mature, and the rough pattern scraped against his shaved skin as he pulled them both on, clipping the bra neatly before sliding it around and arranging the small padded cups against his chest. Then he rolled on a pair of translucent black tights to wear under the skirt. They slid silkily over his bare legs, clinging to him with a cool, smooth feeling that made him feel a little excited. Good thing the underwear were tight enough. The skirt went on next, shimmying up to his waist to zip in the back, and then he gently tugged the top over his head. The blouse material was stretchy and a little shimmery, curving and clinging around the bra cups to enhance the illusion of his breasts. It was a deep, striking red, with a modest v-neck and capped sleeves that made his thin arms seem surprisingly petite and feminine.
The outfit looked good on him. He was surprised for the hundredth time at just how well he managed to slip into these clothes. His short, slender shape had always been a pain before… but it was exactly what was needed now.
Kyla came in to help with his makeup. Everything had to look perfect for the date tonight! If Chuck found out… well, Chuck couldn’t find out. Mike would do the date, Chuck would drop him off back at Amy’s, no one would ever know Mikala wasn’t real, and they’d never have to do it again. A weird pang ran through Mike’s chest at the thought while Kyla fussed over him. That was what he wanted, right? To be done with Mikala? They finished his makeup, powders and liner and colors expertly applied, and then Kyla was settling the wig on his head, hooking in the pins. As he looked at himself in the mirror, Mikala stared back. She looked gorgeous: her eyes were dark and huge, her lips popped crimson, her cheeks had just the right hint of blush. He smiled in spite of himself, and felt warm currents run through his body to see her smile back at him. It was an innocent, inviting smile. He could hardly believe that was him in the mirror.
“You look amazing,” Kyla said.
Amy poked her head in impatiently. “Oh, wow, she really does! Nice lipstick, Ky.”
“Are you ready?” Kyla asked.
“I think so,” Mike said.
“Higher,” urged Amy.
“I think so,” Mike tried again, bringing his voice up half an octave. He’d have to watch that tonight. His mouth felt dry, and he could tell he was getting nervous.
“Better,” Amy said. “Chuck will be here any minute.”
And then Mike started to panic. It was clawing its way up his spine like a small animal, tightening his body with each scrabbling inch. His breathing sped up, and he sat down back on the edge of the bathtub to steady himself. Was he really going through with this? What was he doing? What had they talked him into?
“This is crazy,” he said, shaking his head. He stood back up and crossed to lean over the sink, staring at Mikala in the mirror again, looking for any possible flaw. Did he really look feminine enough? Could this really work?
“Good crazy?” asked Kyla, her face concerned.
Mike felt his eyes starting to water, emotion welling up. “No. I don’t know. Crazy crazy.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Amy said. “Relax, Mikala, relax. Don’t cry, don’t cry… you’ll ruin that make-up you just worked so hard on. Everything will be okay, I promise!” She came up behind him and put a hand on his back, leaned her head on his shoulder. “You look beautiful. It’s going to work perfectly. Don’t worry.”
And hearing her call him Mikala again, sealing his identity to that of the girl in the mirror, actually did make Mike feel better. His eyes cleared and he smoothed down the skirt, steadying his hands. It was crazy, but he could do it. He had to, now. Amy was right. It was going to be okay. He looked like Mikala, he sounded like Mikala, he even smelled like Mikala. The scent of his perfume filled his nose, calming him. Chuck would be so preoccupied with the date, he’d never notice, right?
The doorbell rang. “Showtime,” whispered Amy. “Be a good girl, Mikala. Show him a nice time.” She handed a small black clutch purse to him, where he found his phone, a tube of lipstick, and a few twenty-dollar bills. No ID tonight. He fingered the tiny gold cross hanging at his neck and hoped they didn’t get into any trouble. Explaining the situation to Chuck would be bad… to the police and his parents, much worse. He intended to be the very picture of the good little Catholic girl he was supposed to be.
He slipped into his shoes, a little pair of crimson kitten heels (so he wouldn’t trip over his own feet), and followed the girls to the top of the stairs where he paused, hands shaking. He felt hot, way too hot, and he tried not to break out into a sweat. That wouldn’t be attractive at all. The girls had already gone down. He could see the entryway from where he was standing in the shadows, and he stood frozen, waiting, his mind racing. He tried to think back to virtnet, tried to remember what it felt like to be Mikala there, tried to channel those feelings now to give himself the courage to go through with this. The doorbell rang again.
When Amy opened the door, Chuck was standing there grinning like crazy, wearing a black button down shirt over a nice pair of dark jeans. He’d shaved and combed his hair, and his hands were clasped behind his back, waiting.
“Hiya Chuck,” she said, smiling at him.
“Hey Amy,” he said. “I’m here for Mikala. She said she’d be over at your place tonight?” The sentence came out as more of a faltering question than a statement. Chuck suddenly seemed unsure of himself with no Mikala in sight. Mike wasn’t sure if she was here, either. He smoothed his skirt again, adjusted his shirt. Come on, come on. He could do this.
“Yeah, she’s here. Mikala!” Amy called.
Her breath caught. It was now or never.
Her foot touched the top step. His gaze snapped up to her and she blushed faintly. She descended slowly, eyes averted. When she reached the landing, she peeked at him. His smile had widened, and he was looking her up and down, drinking in all of her. She held his eyes, amazed that he didn’t seem to recognize her.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m Chuck.”
“Hi,” she almost whispered. “I’m Mikala.” They paused awkwardly, neither knowing what to do. He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her with that dopey grin.
Then Kyla grabbed her hand and nearly shoved her out the door, where she found herself staring up at Chuck. “You kids have fun!” she said, slamming it shut behind them. Now Mikala and Chuck stood alone on the patio.
“You look amazing,” he finally said. Her blush deepened. She was just inches away from him now, staring up at him. His brown eyes were so warm. How had she never seen that before?
“Thanks,” she said. She didn
’t have to fake her shyness.
“Well… shall we?” he asked, gesturing to his car. It was a sporty red two-seater, and when Mikala slipped into the passenger side, she jumped at the cool leather pressing against her thigh where the skirt cut off. Her legs felt so naked, even with the nylons. When Chuck got in next to her, he flashed another brilliant smile, all whites, and turned the ignition. They were off.
Adaptation
The inside of the car smelled like Chuck did: a clean, light scent of leather and cologne that made her nose twitch whenever she caught a waft of it. It was strangely intoxicating. She tossed a sidelong glance at him, wondering if he was thinking the same thing about her perfume. His eyes were fixed on the road, though, and he seemed almost nervous. Why on earth would Chuck Higgins feel nervous with any girl?
“Music?” Chuck asked.
“Hmm?” she replied.
“I mean, do you want to listen to some music?”
“Oh, sure…”
His fingers fumbled at the radio and flipped through a few stations until something inoffensive and happy popped on.
“Top 40 okay with you?” he asked.
“I love the top 40.” She didn’t, but her answer seemed to make him relax a little. He leaned back, smiling, with one hand on the wheel, and tapped along to the music with his other hand on the driver-side door.
She couldn’t believe this was working. He hadn’t even questioned her voice. It made Mikala cringe a little, to think she could pass for a girl so easily, but also it was kind of thrilling. For every minute he didn’t stand up and accuse her of being a fake, her confidence ratcheted up a notch or two.
“Last Friday was pretty great,” she said, trying to make conversation.
That got his attention, and a leering grin. It wasn’t her eyes he was looking at now. “Yeah, it was,” he replied. “Maybe if I’m lucky we’ll get a repeat?”
Uh-oh. She swirled her cross around her finger nervously. “Maybe. In virtnet. Amy told you I’m Catholic, right?”