Becoming Sweet Girls

by Alyson Belle

  “I-I-I…” I stammered, momentarily unable to form a coherent sentence. Meanwhile what I was thinking was,What the fuck is going on?

  This couldn’t be real. I had to still be stuck in a dream. Or I had fallen harder than I thought, and I was suffering some sort of hallucination. Maybe I’d just finally snapped under all of my life’s pressures. That would be just my luck, to go crazy right at the worst possible moment.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I blurted.

  I ignored the concerned glance the two men shared and took off like the devil was after me, and it certainly felt like he actually was. My heart hammered in my chest, thundering away like a jackhammer, while my brain spun itself round and round like a carousel that was definitely breaking a whole lot of health and safety rules.

  I was so thoroughly panicked that I must have missed several restroom signs along the way. It wasn’t until I’d slid past security that I caught sight of them at the end of a long side hallway and raced straight towards them.

  I flung open the door the moment it was within range of my now-delicate and nail polish covered fingers only to collide with a massive chest. I bounced backward—barely managing not to fall over again—and looked up to see a man built like a champion body-builder.

  I winced. Guys like this always made me feel uncomfortable, and if they noticed me at all it was to give me an amused smirk as if letting me know how inferior I was to them with my complete lack of impressive muscles. But this guy confused me by looking at me with something I could only describe as caring concern.

  “Sorry about running into you like that,” he said with a warm smile. “Did you get turned around?”

  Why would he think I got turned around?I stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language for what felt like a solid minute before an idea presented itself in my head.

  Maybe he thought I should use the women’s bathroom instead?

  No! I was a man! Why would I need to do that? That was utterly ridiculous. This had to be some sort of strange dream, and I just needed to pinch myself to get out of it!

  So I pinched myself, but all that resulted in was some nail marks in my pale, slender arm.

  Wait a minute…I thought. Hadn’t I boarded the plane in one of my comfy hoodies? I was starting to realize by now that my missing clothing was probably the least of my worries, but I hadreallyliked that hoody!

  “Uh, are you alright, lady?” the body-builder asked uncertainly.

  I was well past the limit of what would be considered polite eye contact for a normal, non-crazy person, so I pivoted on my heel and walked into the women’s restroom just a few feet away without replying. I tried not to sprint like an absolute maniac, but as soon as the heavy wooden door closed behind me, I rushed to the mirror to see if there was some sort of explanation for the madness I was experiencing.

  But instead of seeing some sort of artfully applied prank make-up on my otherwise male face, or a “pretend I’m a woman sign” on my shirt, or a spooky dream demon popping up behind me, I saw a cute young woman staring back at me from the mirror.

  No.

  No!

  This was impossible. Literally, completely and totally impossible. But the reflection moved when I did. Her face pulled into an expression of mock horror along with mine, and every motion she made mimicked mine exactly.

  I was a woman.

  I leaned so far over the sink that I was practically kissing the mirror, studying every detail for some sort of sign that this wasn’t real. I took in everything, from my high, pale forehead, to my bit of a button nose, to the cute, full lips that were currently pressed into an unhappy line. I was annoyed to note that I was adorable even when I was frowning.

  Going further down I saw a long, elegant neck and full, ample cleavage hanging down inside a cutesy peasant top. The girl in the mirror was the kind of girl I would havelovedto hit on at a party, but it couldn’t beme.

  And yet it was. I ran my fingers lightly across my face, the rounded curves of my newly soft body, and my strange, delicate clothes. Now that I was paying more attention to myself, I noticed the slightly constricting band around my chest that had to be a bra, and the tight, delicate curve of panties around my ass that was so different from the roomy boxer shorts I normally wore. I didn’t need to touch myself to confirm that I was all woman down below, too, and I was too weirded out to go exploring beneath my clothes right this moment anyway.

  All of it felt incredibly real and incredibly strange to me—it was bizarre tofeelmy hands on my breasts as I gave them a slight exploratory squeeze—and none of this made any sense! How could I have gone to sleep as a man and woken up transformed into a woman? But I didn’t have any other possible excuses for what I was seeing, and it sure didn’t feel like a dream, so I grudgingly had to accept that that was had happened somehow. I slowly stood up straight and took several deep breaths, trying to calm down and think, my eyes never leaving the mirror.

  I was shorter, it seemed, which explained why the world seemed a little different and walking had been so strange. Not by much, but I reckoned I’d lost at least a few inches. My hair fell just below my shoulders in gentle waves. When I ran my fingers through it, they smelled like the cucumber melon bodywash that Stacey had loved so much.

  My shoulders were still a little broad for a woman (though narrow for a man), but they matched my newly large chest. Surreptitiously glancing around to make sure I was alone in here and that there was nobody who would think I was crazy, I quickly lifted up my shirt and confirmed I was wearing some sort of bra contraption with a surprising number of straps, which sort of explained the dull ache I now noticed in my back. Who knew large breasts were so heavy?

  Below the breasts I had a long, elegant torso with a soft, tapered waist that flared out into wide hips. A half-turn in the mirror revealed that I had quite the behind to go with them—a classic hourglass figure, I think they called it. I dropped my shirt, feeling weird and embarrassed and just completely out of place. My emotions churned, mixing violently. I was definitely the sort of girl that anyone would find attractive: Conventionally pretty and curvy in all the right places.

  Buthow?

  It was as I was wondering if I was indeed having a full mental breakdown when I remembered learning once that you couldn’t really read in dreams. That gave me an idea, and I ripped into the front of my carry-on, only to discover that my clothes had changed along with me. All of them, shoes included.

  “Whoa… that’s freaky,” I murmured to myself. But I didn’t let myself get distracted and instead dug through the jumble of clothes, looking for my travel documents.

  One by one my passport, tickets, and identification all tumbled out, forming a mess around me. But with each one I snatched up, I found out that not only could I read them, but that each of them were addressed to a ‘Thomas McCallister,’ complete with a picture of me. Theoldme, that is. Not the gorgeous woman freaking out in the mirror in front of me.

  I sat back on my knees, breathing hard and trying to think. I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this was somehow reality, even though what was happening defied every rule of physics that I knew of. How had my clothes changed but not my documents? Who was I if I wasn’t Tom? This was going to be a real problem before long. Nobody was going to believe that the documents in my hand belonged to the girl I now seemed to be.

  I felt myself starting to panic. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to function? I couldn’t just walk out into the world as a woman; I didn’t know anything of what it was like or how to protect myself. What if someone came on to me or something? What if they tried to take advantage of me?

  My hand snapped to my phone automatically, just as it had every few moments since Lyla had invited me to stay with her. Shaking, I turned off airplane mode and watched as a couple of texts from her came in.

  [ Are you almost here? I’m so excited! ]

  [ Tell me when you land! I wanna be there to see you right outside security! ]


  [ I got you a green tea cause I figured you’d be thirsty. You like those, right? ]

  I hesitated, completely torn about what to do. At least my friendship with Lyla hadn’t changed, but how could I possibly explain this to her? It was absolutely crazy. I tried to imagine what I might tell her.Hey Lyla, yeah, I landed safely. I’m excited too. Yes, I love green tea. By the way, I seem to be a girl now. Just FYI.

  She was going to think I’d gone totally crazy, and there was no way she would believe me when we met in person. But on the other hand… I frowned at the string of text messages. Lyla was my best friend in the world, and it’s not like I had a better idea. If there was anyone who would help me in this insane situation it was her.

  So, despite the fear and panic coiling in my belly, I hit her number and waited as the phone rang.

  It didn’t even get through a full tone before Lyla picked up. Hearing her voice was like a soothing bath of warm water gently washing across my frayed nerves.

  “Oh my God! Tom! Where are you? I’m already here waiting for you! Ahhh, I’m so excited to see you!”

  I could already picture her in my mind’s eye, smiling and bouncing from foot to foot as she always did when she was being exuberant. I’d always said that she was the best cheerleader someone could ever ask for, and I was glad to hear that all these years in the Rotten Apple hadn’t taken away that girlish excitement from her.

  But then I froze. What could I possibly say? That I had suddenly turned into a woman? I apparently didn’t realize how long I’d spent silently puzzling because then she was talking again.

  “Hello? Tom? Can you hear me? I think you might have some bad reception.”

  Finally, I mustered up enough courage to make my mouth let out actual words. “I need help.”

  I heard the concern enter her tone instantly. “Uh, hello? Who is this?”

  “It’s Tom, Lyla.”

  “You don’t sound like Tom.”

  “I know. But it’s me. I promise. I need your help. I’m scared.”

  “Scared? Why? Are you hurt? You sound really weird and this is kind of freaking me out.”

  “I’m freaked out too. Like really freaked out. I’m in the women’s bathroom right outside of where you exit security. Please come and get me.”

  “Why are you in the women’s bathroom? What’s going on?”

  I shook my head, unable to fathom how I could possibly verbally get my situation across without her thinking I was somehow trying to trick her. “You’ll see when you get here. Just hurry, please.”

  I hung up and picked up all of my things, hauling the whole mess into a bathroom stall so that I could at least hide behind that flimsy partition and feel a little bit protected while I waited for my friend to come. As I slid into the stall, I caught another glimpse of myself in the mirror.

  Red faced, panicked, and most definitely a woman.

  What the hell was going on?!

  Chapter 3

  “Uh, hello?”

  The sound of Lyla’s voice drifting across the stalls snapped me away from my nervous habit of chewing of my nails, which hadn’t changed a bit despite the fact that they were now covered in a shiny, colorful layer of polish.

  “Tom? Are you in here?” Lyla called again.

  I was grateful that this bathroom didn’t seem to be used very much, probably because most people were smart enough to do their business before leaving security. It would have been so much worse to have to explain myself to Lyla with curious onlookers listening in.

  I opened the stall door cautiously and stepped out, my head down so I wouldn’t have to see her shocked expression, and waited for her to say something. This was going to be humiliating.

  I heard a slight gasp, and Lyla’s footsteps came to a sudden stop.

  “Tom?” she asked hesitantly. “That’s not really you, is it?” Then she gave a small, nervous laugh. “Of course it’s not. Funny joke, lady. Where’s Tom?”

  I raised my head slowly and met her eyes. The sight of her took my breath away and set my heart to pounding all over again, for completely different reasons this time. For a moment, I could almost forget exactly what was going on as I drank every inch of her in.

  Lyla was still just as gorgeous and witchy as ever—in the best way possible. She was wearing a fitted black romper with several pretty chains around her neck, some of them with feathers attached and some with moons. Her hair was a long, beautiful combination of dyed blue, purple, and green, while her make-up was just sparkly enough to be eye grabbing but not over the top.

  She was taller than I remembered, but then my eyes flicked down to the rainbow metallic platforms that she was wearing, easily boosting her by three inches. She was wearing pastel stockings that shouldn’t have gone with any of her outfits, but somehow, they seemed to complete her entire look. My old feelings for her surged up again, reignited in her living, breathing presence, and I had to take a moment to get a handle on things and remind myself that I had more pressing problems than lusting after the friend I’d never be able to actually be with.

  “It is me,” I answered, realizing that I’d let the silence go on for far too long. I really needed to stop doing that if I wanted to seem in full control of my mental faculties—although the jury was still out on if I actually was crazy or not. “Look, I know this is weird, but—”

  “What was my shower curtain in college?”

  “Wait, what?” I blinked at her, startled by her sudden and adamant question.

  “My shower curtain. What was it? It was very distinct.”

  “Well, it depends on which one you mean. Freshman year you had a unicorn that was shooting out a rainbow, but some drunk girl tore it off the hooks when she fell at a party your roommates threw. Then it was a pretty butterfly one, but when it got hot, it would turn red like blood was pouring down it.”

  College Lyla had had some interesting tastes. It was part of her charm.

  “Do I have a birthmark?”

  “No,” I replied, warming up to her little friend-test game. “But you do have a burn scar that everyonethinksis a birthmark from when your Mom accidentally burned you while you were making crepes together on Mother’s Day.”

  “Which underwear do I prefer? Thong or bikini?”

  “Trick question,” I answered quickly. “You think that most underwear is uncomfortable and swear by commando in almost every situation.”

  “Oh my God, itisyou!”

  Suddenly she was running up to me and throwing her arms around my shoulders. Her body was so pleasantly soft and squishy against mine that for a moment I was too shocked to move, but then my arms wrapped around her too, and I held her tightly.

  “I don’t know how this happened to me,” I whispered into her hair, feeling so relieved and reassured by Lyla’s presence that I almost wanted to cry. She smelled like lavender and vanilla, and I remembered how she almost always burned one of those two candles back in college. “But I’m freaking out.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she said. Then she slowly pulled away to look me over. “Holy crap. You reallyarea woman. How is this possible?”

  “I don’t know. This can’t be real, right?”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure I’m real and you’re right in front of me, so…”

  “Dammit.”

  She took my hand in hers, gently squeezing, and I was struck by how similar in size our hands were now. I remembered back in college I would occasionally palm her face as a joke. That wasn’t going to work anymore.

  “I’m not gonna pretend that I understand what’s going on, but all I know is that this is what it is, and since it’s happening, you’re going to need my help more than ever,” Lyla continued in her no-nonsense tone of voice. “Right now, for all intents and purposes, you’re a girl. Surprising, sure, but nothing that we can’t deal with. How about we head back to my place as planned and we figure this out together somewhere a little more private?”

  I nodded, feeling a ton of t
ension roll off of me. At least I wasn’t alone with the bizarre circumstances I had woken up into. I was with my best friend, and I knew that Lyla would have my back no matter what. It was a great feeling after so much panicking.

  Never letting go of my hand, she pushed the handle into my rolling luggage and then slung the strap over her shoulder. With one more reassuring nod in my direction, she pulled me out of the bathroom and back into the airport.

  As Lyla marched me through the outer JFK terminal toward the ground transportation area, I felt like every eye in the airport was lingering on me. I was sure that men and women both were staring at me, even though no one ever actually was when I turned my head to check. Was I just being paranoid? Or were people checking me out? It was impossible for them to know how uncomfortable I felt moving around in this strange new body, wasn’t it? Then again, my day had turned into a whole lot of impossible, so who knew what was in my imagination and what was real?

  I tried my best to just focus on Lyla’s pretty back as we moved through the mild crowds, but my mind kept picking up on all the slight differences I was experiencing that were throwing it for a loop.

  For example, my balance felt… different. While I wasn’t a very clumsy person, I’d always felt like my body was guided from my chest. But now, I felt rooted to the earth, like my center of gravity had moved down to my hips.

  And oh, myhips.

  They moved differently. There was this sway to them as they tried to get around thicker thighs, and I could hear them rubbing together with every step. Again my attention was drawn to the significant lack of penis and balls down there between them, and I never understood how much the shape of my body affected exactly how I took a step.

  But it did.Boydid it. Several times my pace got all wonky as I paid too much attention to how I was walking and tried to figure things out, but Lyla would just pause and say something reassuring while I put myself back on track, face flushing red in embarrassment at the awkward circumstances.