Becoming Sweet Girls

by Alyson Belle

  Somehow, we made it out of the airport to the transportation area and she waved down a taxi. We piled in and took off toward the heart of the city. I couldn’t help but notice how the driver’s eyes had lingered on my chest and ass as he stowed my carry-on in the trunk and I settled into my seat. It was a weird feeling to think that he was probably attracted to me, but I was relieved that he kept any lewd comments he was thinking to himself.

  Despite living in Upstate NY for a good chunk of my life, I had never been to NYC. I didn’t know the difference between all of the different boroughs, but I soon got the feeling that Lyla was in one of the somewhat poorer ones. I knew she worked her butt off, but I also remembered her saying a few times that her constant struggle with bills had her down.

  I hated to think about that. I was lucky that my job had left me in a pretty good position. I exaggerated just how little money I had in savings when I was freaking out about it, but honestly, if I stretched things, I could probably be out of work for half a year and still be okay.Almostokay. Lyla hadn’t been quite so lucky and seemed to live paycheck to paycheck. Of course, I had tried to give Lyla money on a few occasions without Stacey knowing, but Lyla had a wicked sense of pride and wouldn’t accept my offers of financial help except on her birthday and at Christmas.

  We didn’t say much to each other on the drive back to her place, but I was sure that that was partially because we were both locked in our own thoughts about the weird situation and partially because it would have been an awkward conversation to have in front of the cabbie with the roaming eyes. In the lull of conversation, I suddenly felt hyper-aware of Lyla’s physical presence once again. From the corner of my eye I studied the subtle rise and fall of her rounded chest, and I admired the many tasteful silver rings she wore on the slender fingers that wrapped through my own and squeezed my hand reassuringly now and again. I was amused to note that her teeth still worried at her lip while she was deep in thought, a habit I’d teased her about even back in high school.

  It felt good to be at her side again. Really good. It was almost enough to shake me from my shock at suddenly becoming a woman, but not quite.

  When the driver did finally pull up to a dingey looking block, the two of us slid out of the cab still hand in hand. Lyla thanked the driver as he pulled my bag out of the back and tipped him, and he took another long, blatant look at my chest as he reluctantly stepped back into the cab and pulled away. Then Lyla smiled at me and took the lead once again, walking me up to the tall brick apartment building behind us.

  “Home sweet home,” she said with a wry smile, opening up the barred door and gesturing for me to walk inside.

  I did, waiting for her to come in after me, and then she led me towards an older elevator that looked like it was out of a classic movie. She pulled the heavy door open and waited. I got in after just a second’s hesitation, staring nervously at the ancient cables on display, and when Lyla slid the door closed behind us I couldn’t help but think that we were going to suddenly plummet to our deaths.

  “Oh, relax,” Lyla chided. “You’re not going to die, silly.”

  Apparently, she was as good at reading me as ever, even if I was a girl now. I smiled sheepishly and shrugged as she laughed and jammed the button for her floor.

  Falling to my death in a previously functioning elevator wouldn’t have been the strangest thing that had happened to me lately, though, so I was grateful when it didn’t.

  Once we were out of the ancient device, we walked down a long, narrow hallway that smelled of way too many people cooking competing ethnic foods all at once. It was a weird mix but somehow still good. I crinkled my nose, stomach rumbling at the delicious mélange of smells. We finally arrived in front of another thick door, and Lyla fiddled with her keys for a moment, squinting in the dim light of the corridor. Then she found the correct one and turned it in the lock with the dull clank of a releasing deadbolt.

  “Ahh,” Lyla said with a grin. “Welcome to my pad! You’ll love it.”

  The door swung open and I stepped inside of a one-bedroom apartment that was so Lyla that it was almost funny.

  The walls were painted lilac with black accent crown molding. Almost every flat surface was covered with either creative projects, crystals, or figurines from the various nerdy things she enjoyed. I could see her small kitchen from where I was, and everything was color-coordinated to her walls and cabinets. I couldn’t see her bedroom or bathroom, but I was willing to bet that they had similar décor.

  And of course, a certifiably bizarre shower curtain.

  “This way,” Lyla said as I gawked at everything, seizing my hand once more and pulling me towards the closed door opposite of where we stood. Sure enough, she marched me right into her bedroom and sat me down on her bed.

  The bed was a spacious queen with black, silky sheets and a rumpled galaxy comforter on top of it. Her clothes, including stray bras and underwear, were thrown everywhere, and more nerdy figurines adorned her shelves.

  “So,” she said, sitting across from me. “You’re a woman now.”

  “I’m a woman now,” I repeated.

  “And you have no idea how this happened?”

  I nodded, feeling slightly less like I was going to spontaneously combust from the weirdness of it all than I had earlier in the day.

  “How do you feel about it… I guess?”

  “Strange,” I answered honestly. “Scared. A whole lot of confused.” I paused for the first time since it happened to really think about what was going on with me. “Um. But not especiallybad? I mean… it’s not like it hurts. It’s just sort of weird. Really weird. And embarrassing.”

  “Well, that’s good then, I suppose.” She nodded and seemed to think to herself for a moment, chewing her lip again. “I have no idea how this could have happened, but I’ve got a few days free to do some pretty heavy research online. Maybe this happened to someone else, too, and we can figure out what’s going on.” She looked me over from head to toe and the corners of her lips went up ever so slightly.

  “What is it?” I asked, feeling a bit self-conscious under the sudden scrutiny.

  “It’s just… your outfit. It’s uh… very not you.”

  “It’s not?” I asked, looking down. I had to admit that I hadn’t given much thought to what I was wearing beyond the fact that it was very much not what I had boarded the plane with. How could any female clothes be me? I was adude. Feminine clothes were “not me” by definition.

  “No, it’s like really not.” Lyla snickered a little and it helped to break the mood a bit. “Do you have anything else?”

  “I think everything in my suitcase changed.”

  “Really? Let me see!”

  I got up off the bed and grabbed the pack that I’d dropped by the door. Hauling it to her, I opened it again to reveal a jumbled bunch of lady’s clothes. Lyla pulled out piece after piece, chucking them to her floor to join the rest of her mess.

  It didn’t take her long to empty the entire suitcase, frowning and muttering to herself the whole time. In the end, she only had about three clothing items that met with her approval, not counting socks and underwear.

  “I don’t think that’s enough clothes for this trip,” I said, thoroughly amused by her running commentary.

  “Definitely not. But whoever magicked your wardrobe into girl clothes didn’t know you at all.” Her eyes scanned me up and down, and I felt like I was suddenly wearing way less than I actually was. “And you won’t really fit in most of my clothes. You’re a bit more, uh, curvaceous than I am.”

  “Am I?” I asked, feeling my cheeks color.

  “Yeah, Tom. You make a really hot girl.” She grimaced, and the color in my cheeks darkened as I wondered if thinking of me as attractive was really that awful. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s really weird to call you Tom.”

  I laughed at that. The comment was much nicer than what I had been fearing for a split second.

  “I know what you mean,” I
replied. “It’s weird for me to think of myself as Tom too when I look like this. I don’t feel like a Tom at the moment.”

  “Well, then we shouldn’t call you that. You’re a temporarily new you, so it makes sense that you would need a new name.”

  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

  “Of course, it does, that’s why I said it.” We shared a laugh at that, and it felt just like old times. “What about… Sasha?”

  I shook my head. “Eh, that makes me think of some sort of Russian spy who’s way hotter than me.”

  “I don’t know, you’re pretty damn hot.”

  “Really?”

  She raised her eyebrow, and I stopped fishing for compliments, even if each time she said something flattering about me my heart picked up speed a little. “Ummmm, Miranda?”

  I thought about it before shaking my head again. “That doesn’t seem quite right either.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” We sat there for a long moment before she snapped her fingers, her face lighting up with excitement. “Oh man! I remember when we were younger, we used to talk about what we’d be called if we were born in opposite bodies. Do you remember that?”

  “I do,” I answered with a chuckle. “Your name was supposed to be Robert, right?”

  “Yup. A regular ol’ Robbie. And yours was supposed to be Jessica.” She leaned forward, her big eyes looking so beautiful that close to mine. “How does that sound? Jess for short?”

  My heart skipped a beat again and I nodded, swallowing a bit too hard. “Uh-huh.”

  “Alright! Then, Jess, it is!” She nodded and seemed very satisfied with herself. “I have to say, it really fits. I think I’m pretty good at this.”

  “You are.”

  She beamed at me, and I was reminded of old times when things were simpler and I hadn’t been magically transformed into another body. Relief flooded through me once again.

  “You seem less nervous now,” Lyla remarked.

  “That’s because I am,” I answered honestly. “Before I was terrified out of my mind. But I don’t know… just being with you makes it all feel better.”

  She placed her hand over her heart. “Aww, that’s so sweet! I tell you what.” She took both of my hands again and looked me deep in the eyes in a way that made my whole body feel melty. My heart fluttered and I felt hot all over. Did Lyla have any idea what that did to me? Probably not. She never had, because I’d never told her the truth about my feelings. “Why don’t we go thrift shopping and find out what kind of clothes that my new best girl friend likes?”

  I licked my lips nervously, thinking of intentionally goingout therelooking like I did.Panic surged again. What if I did something wrong? What if I embarrassed myself? What was I supposed to do when I had to use the bathroom? But another glance at Lyla’s excited face pretty much decided it for me. She was so thrilled to do this with me. How could I deny her? Besides, I felt safe enough with her to let her guide me through all this, and I didn’t want to miss out on any time together.

  “Alright,” I said with a nod. “I guess I do have to get some clothes that fit this body if you don’t like any of the ones I have, don’t I? Time for a second-hand shopping spree.”

  Lyla winked at me. “It’s whatyoulike, silly. Not what I like.”

  But she didn’t realize just how wrong she was about that.

  * * *

  The first thing I noticed about the thrift store was the distinct smell. It was somewhere between freshly laundered and a plethora of mothballs, and it tugged at my nose and made me a bit uncomfortable. But Lyla didn’t seem to smell anything of the sort and practically skipped along as we walked to the women’s section, rattling off all the things she hoped we’d find.

  “Thankfully you’re not too tall,” she said as we approached a rack full of pants. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my short life it’s that tall girls don’t give up their clothes until they’re rags.”

  “Yeah, it’s weird being this short now.”

  Lyla snorted at me, looking up from our inch gap even with her wearing such high heels. “You arenotshort.”

  “Well, not to you, tiny,” I teased. She’d always been short, even compared to other girls.

  She playfully joshed my arm. “Don’t be cocky now. That’s very unbecoming of a lady.”

  “Oh, is it?” I asked with mock sincerity. “Because I seem to remembersomeoneclimbing on top of the school roof to proclaim that she was the best when she beat out her mortal nemesis for lead in the school play.”

  “So I have a flair for the dramatic,” she shot back with a teasing smile, tossing her multi-hued hair over her shoulder. “You’ve never complained about it before.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed, feeling myself smiling like a complete goof. “I definitely haven’t.”

  “Exactly. Now, watch and learn.”

  Like a whirling dervish, she attacked the racks with a determined sort of ferocity that was borderline alarming. One after another, she tossed different articles of clothing into my arms, from pants to shirts to dresses, as she led me throughout the store with the focused precision of a soldier on a top secret mission.

  It didn’t take long for my arms to become uncomfortably full, and I heaved out a gasp of protest. “Hey, uh, can we put some of these down?”

  “What, tired already?” she teased.

  “I’m not exactly as great as I used to be when it comes to heavy weights right now.”

  “Fair enough.” Lyla looked over our hoard appraisingly and nodded in approval. “We can take a dressing room break now.”

  “A break?” I squeaked. “You mean there’s gonna be more after this?”

  “Well, that depends on what you like and what fits that cute bod of yours.”

  “Oh.”

  She led me to the back where there were three stalls set up. She took the clothes from my arms and placed them on a bench before ushering me inside.

  “I’ll hand things to you one at a time.”

  “Why?”

  She pointed to a sign that said only three items at a time. “It’s just easier this way. Now, if it fits, I want you to step out and show me.”

  “Okay.”

  She handed me a pink, stretchy-looking dress and then pushed me inside. I found myself standing under the ugly yellow lights staring at an unfamiliar mess of fabric. I clutched at it nervously, feeling the stretchy material flex beneath my fingers.

  Something about standing in a dressing room holding a women’s garment in my hand made the whole situation uncomfortably real. This was something for a woman. I was a woman. This fabric was going on my actual body. I shook my head and took a deep breath.

  Too fucking weird. Here goes nothing.

  I set the dress to the side and went about removing my outfit I’d appeared in at the airport. The jeans were straight-forward enough, but they clung to me tightly as I tried to pull them down my thick, soft thighs. With a bit of determined wiggling, I managed to get them in a pool on the ground and then I moved on to my peasant shirt.

  That came off easily. Thankfully, the loose, flowy fabric offered no resistance as I pulled it over my body and dropped it on the floor below. I eyed the dress nervously.

  But just as I was ready to plow ahead with this weird endeavor, I caught sight of myself in the mirror, standing there in just my underwear. The strange view of this gorgeous, stunning creature who mimicked my every move was so alien to me, but it definitely wasn’t unpleasant. I could see now that Lyla had been right. Iwashot. My hands started to wander over myself, exploring my nearly-nude body with a cautious reverence.

  This was the first time I’d seen myself so naked since I’d awoken the plane, and I was absolutely stunned. My fingers trailed over my soft skin, surprising me with how silky and pliant it was. My breasts sat high on my chest, their pleasant weight making the bottom of my bra press into me. There were small lines across my hips from where my too-tight jeans had clung to my body, and my fingers bru
shed over the slight indentations like a holy script.

  Was this what it was like to be a woman? I’d always been comfortable in my male body my entire life, but now I wondered if I’d actually been given the short end of the stick. There was just something so inherently… magical about my softness, my form, that I wanted to stare at it forever.

  “Hey, I don’t hear anything going on in there. You okay?”

  Lyla’s voice cut through my reverie and I started. “Yeah, sorry. Just distracted.”

  “It’s alright. Shopping is all about the experience.”

  “Well, I’m about to experience this dress then, I guess.”

  I picked the pink thing up from where I had left it, lifting it over my head and pulling it on. However, while my upper body went through the bottom hole and made its way upwards, my arms couldn’t find a way out and blocked any further progress.

  I fished around, trying to figure out what went where, but I just ended up getting more tangled in the stretchy fabric. Even my head couldn’t find an exit and I felt my cheeks beginning to blaze red.

  “Uh… Lyla?”

  “Yeah To-, I mean Jess?”

  “I think I’m stuck.”

  “You’re stuck?”

  “Yeah. I’m stuck.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t knowhowI just know that Iam.”

  “Huh, that’s the theme of your life lately, isn’t it?”

  “Very astute observation. I’m still stuck in this dress.”

  “Did you lock the door behind you?”

  I paused for a moment and realized that I had out of habit. “Uh… what if that answer was a yes?”

  Instead of being angry, she just laughed. “Alright. Stand back from the door. I’m going to slide under.”

  “Slide under?”

  But then I heard scuffling at my feet and I backed up until my spine was flush to a wall. Looking down my body, I saw the back of Lyla’s head as she slid under the small gap beneath the door.

  “Oh my God, you’re really climbing under.”

  “Yeah, what did you think I meant?” She asked, popping up to her feet in front of me and out of my view. “Ah, I see what happened. Hold on a minute, I’ll have you out of here in a jiffy.”