THE DARK OF THE MOON: JOSETTE'S STORY, Part Five by Christopher Leeson

 

JOSETTE’S STORY, Chapter 5

By Christopher Leeson

Over the next three days, the Josette and Darrell were seen together around the school frequently. At each meeting, Darrell looked and sounded more relaxed. But Josette knew that other people—including Josie's friends—were watching them, too.

 When a couple of girls from the in-crowd cornered her, she had no choice but to talk to them politely, but they only chattered about what the “group” was doing. Being around people who knew Josie so well tied Josette into knots. In contrast, she felt at ease around Darrell.

#

On the fourth day, near the end of school, Josette saw Leah near her locker; Leah smiled oddly. The honey blonde came up wearing a short miniskirt and a sleeveless top. Josette pretended to admire her fashion while getting a good, long look at Leah’s shapely legs.

"Hey Jo, I've been wondering why you've come back from summer vacation as if you turned into a whole different person."

"I find it exhausting to fuss over fashion every day. Really, what’s so important about material things?"

"Who are you and what have you done with Josie?” Leah asked.

The question startled Josette. “What do you mean?”

“Why is fashion suddenly not important to you? Have you had a stroke or something?”

Josette eyed her coolly. “Leah, what specific topic requires discussion?”

Leah wrinkled her nose as if smelling something that she didn’t care for. "We need to talk seriously. You’ve been staying off by yourself lately unless you’re slumming with that nerd, Darrell. The entire school is wondering what’s with you."

“Groups such as ours must be careful to maintain impeccable reputations.”

Josette scowled. "Why can’t I be friends with anyone I want to?"

“Don’t you remember you gave your oath to the group to think and act just like them?”

That used to work; however, we’re maturing. Maybe we’re coming under different rules now.”

Leah looked like she’d been stung by a wasp. “Chill out, Josie! I’m giving you the advice you need to salvage your reputation! Maybe it’s not your fault. Maybe you had a heat stroke last summer! No error is worse than a social misstep. Don’t you see that hanging with the wrong people is going to turn into the wrong person yourself? Have you had a medical checkup lately? Like with a psychiatrist?”

“Leah, that remark is unkind. There’s nothing wrong with me, except I’ve tried to be a kid for too long. Global fashion, parties, and musical tastes don’t add up to much. With Darrell, I’m learning how to play strategic war games. I’m getting pretty good at it!”

Leah looked incredulous. “I hope you’re only going through a phase. If you don’t come up for air, you’re going to be voted out of your social circle, and people will freeze you out!”

“You’re talking about canceling me? Great! Cancellation would be better than dealing with all this bullying!”

Leah blinked in surprise. “You won’t make me angry, Josie. Even if you won’t admit it, I know something is bothering you. This isn’t the real you. I'm still holding out the hope that I’ll soon have my best friend back. When you decide you need help, just say you’re sorry and we can build back better.”

“I might do that,” said Josette, “but don’t rush me. I’m still on vacation.”

Leah, shaking her head, flounced away.

“Damn those snobs!” Josette muttered to herself. “They really are going to cancel me!”

While she didn’t exactly care for the idea of being rejected in scorn, if Josie’s old gang cut her out of the herd, she at least wouldn’t have to listen to their silliness.

Josette had promised to link up with Darrell after school for sodas. She found him waiting for her on the driveway at the parking lot.

Darrell peered at her through narrowed eyes. "Everything ok, Josie? “You have a funny expression.”

“I’m fine. It’s just that Leah said something mean to me.”

“Did she get catty about something?”

“No, but we don’t see eye to eye anymore. I’m almost eighteen, and my outlook is changing. It’s time for me to turn a page, and the gang doesn’t understand that.”

Darrell nodded sympathetically. "Do you still feel like grabbing that soda?"

Josette managed a smile. "Now more than ever!"

At the cafe, Darrell’s stream of jokes soon had her laughing again. Darrell seemed preoccupied. Finally, he asked her, “Maybe we can go to the movies together this weekend?”

Josette didn’t think twice before agreeing, as Loren and Darrell had been to the movies together many times. “Sure, I want us to relate to one another as friends.”

"So do I!" Darrell said quickly. Too quickly.

So they took a lunch downtown and then took in the seven o’clock showing. Unfortunately, the movie thumped and thudded. Neither of them liked woke movies. A newly graduated female officer, this film’s protagonist, demonstrated better skills and instincts than the station’s most seasoned officers. The film’s men were either creepy or inept. A series of unlikely events carried the viewers to credits, where the May Sue rookie found a man she could trust—a downtown troublemaker long under the watchful eye of the law.

They each bought candy before leaving the theater, needing to get the film’s bad taste out of their mouths. “One would think that a cop movie would be pretty based,” Darrell apologized.

“Don’t sweat it,” said Josette. “These days, only the classics are worth watching. You know what you’re getting in the older stuff. There are thousands of old films on Roku channels I haven’t watched yet.”

“Maybe we can watch a few together,” Darrell suggested.

“Yeah, maybe. But don’t push events too fast, Darrell. I’m not ready for anything serious.”

“I swear,” he promised without enthusiasm.

Days of classes and activities followed. She was no longer being approached by the group, and she supposed she’d been canceled. She learned of her social expulsion only through the gang’s silence. Even Leah, who had claimed to want to fix things, did not come near her.

Josette shrugged off her social problems. She only wished she had broken with them first. But with so much on her mind, she had stopped obsessing about the next dark moon. But the dark of the moon hadn’t forgotten about her. It slammed into her on the next evening after the movie trip. The next thing she knew, she lay on her mattress, looking at the ceiling.

Sitting up, Josette noticed that Loren’s posters of comic book heroes had returned to the walls. It took only seconds longer to realize that she wasn’t a she anymore. She—he—was Loren again!

Loren let his head fall back, and he exhaled a moan of relief. The spell really had been temporary. The whole time, he feared the instruction sheet was nonsense and lived in fear of being a girl for life.

That didn’t happen.

So, now, what—?


#

Loren fell asleep where he lay and awoke before sunup. He examined himself again, double-checking to see that his restored maleness hadn’t been a dream.

The youth lay there until the sun was almost up, thinking. His girl-experience was sharp in every detail; it was nothing like a dream. He had been hooked into something weird and crazy, but now it seemed to be over.

His life was once more on track.

He had come back from Crazy Land, and it felt good to be able to wear male clothes without looking silly in them. His mother didn’t so much as blink when he walked into the kitchen as a boy. But after a couple of days, Loren realized he was once more tracking through the mire of a very dull world.

At school, Darrell came over and said, “Hi, Loren,” and then continued down the hall. It soon became plain that absolutely no one remembered Josette. Nothing was left of her, except the memories that Loren carried with him.

But in talking to the few friends he had, he had been around as a boy for the whole of the last month. Weird! The next time he was together with Darrell, he asked leading questions, trying to find out whether his best bud remembered doing things with him as Loren over the past month.

He did. Like, they'd gone to that dumb cop movie, and neither of them had liked it.

Maybe he felt a little less bad about being a social failure. When given the chance to be one of the school’s social in-crowd, he had rejected the idea. He had found out that the friends he had in this life were also the friends he wanted in Josette’s life. But why was he a social failure in his life, and Josie had been a social butterfly in hers? He couldn’t think of any way that Josie was better than he was, except that she had an angel face and a killer body.

Maybe the major differences between him and Josie was that Loren knew that his life was empty, and Josie hadn’t figured that out about hers. Outwardly, she was full of life and fun, but Loren could see that her world was nothing but a pillowcase stuffed with feathers. Another difference between them was that Josie’s life was heading for a fall. In contrast, Loren felt like his life had already fallen.

Also, he wondered what Josette might be doing just then in her own world. He wondered what would have happened to him by now if he had stayed in Josette's pantyhose a little longer.

With the new moon drawing nigh, Loren entered a strange state of mind. He caught himself contemplating the fact that, according to the instruction sheet, he could become Josette again and pick up the adventure where it had left off.

But, no, that was crazy! Some mistake or some freak accident could trap him in Girl World forever. If so, what would his life become then?

He thought girls could have fun, like the old song said. But he didn’t like to think about the fate of livers doing the girl thing. It seemed like girls got the best things in life until they got to be about thirty. For a guy, he rarely had anything to boast about until he passed thirty.

But there was one thing that he didn't like about Josette's life. And that thing was the tenseness of her relationship with Darrell.

Loren knew very well that no normal guy could hang close to a hot girl and not think about sex. Even if Josette had liked boys, Darrell was off limits in that department. Romancing his close friend would have been like romancing one's brother! If Darrell pushed too hard, it could ruin their friendship. If Josette hadn't had Darrell, she'd have been up the creek and all alone. But Loren didn't blame his bud for getting hot and bothered around Josette. In Darrell’s shoes, Loren would have felt, and wanted, the same things he did.

But as the days rolled on and the new moon edged closer, Loren couldn’t get the magic oil out of his mind. He tried to fight off the silly—and dangerous—ideas he was having.

But when the hour of the new moon arrived, without making a certain decision to do so, he touched an oiled Q-Tip to his left arm.

#

Josette awoke the next morning. She got out of bed and could once more admire the sexy pajamas she was wearing. When Mrs. Melford called her down for breakfast, she ate breakfast in a semi-daze, saying little. Once at school, Josette’s attitudes and outlooks returned to her. Only, on this second time around, she felt a little more confident and daring.

But Josette had popped back into Josie's hide in the middle of the school week, and so she drove to Westbrook High wearing a short skirt and blouse. As she parked, she saw Darrel approaching. He waved and shouted, "Josette!”

“Hi,” she replied.

"I missed you!" said Darrell.

“Missed me? Did I disappear for a month or something?”

“What are you talking about?"

“When did we last see each other?”

“What’s with you? Don’t you remember giving me a ride home yesterday after school?”

“Oh, yeah! Sorry. You know how it is! Girls always get forgetful during their time of the month!”

“I never heard they did,” Darrell replied.

“We do, but we don’t like to talk about it.”

After school, they took malts together. Darrell kept suggesting things they could do together over the next few days.

Some things she agreed to do. And she did them. Now that she had actually chosen to be a girl for another month, Josette lost her uptight reluctance to show off her sumptuous skin. She started looking at her wardrobe as if she was a co-star on Unhappily Ever After, wearing things that were bright-colored, tight, and short.

But dressing that way made the boys more interested in her. A lot of them started acting squirrelly around her. They seemed to want to speak to her, but got so tongue-tied that she couldn’t understand what they were saying half the time. The worst boys were the pushy ones, always wanting her to take her places. This made her remember how some girls complained they didn't dare go anywhere alone because the boys would come at them like bees came at flowers. That was why girlfriends or a steady boy were a necessity for them.

Her solution was to hang steady with Darrell. That worked out fine, and it was on her suggestion that they went to the beach together on Saturday.

When they hit the sand, Josette attracted many a longing male glance. She was a bikini in public for the first time, though she had tried on every swimsuit Josie had in private. The one she took with her to the beach was a Rio-cut number decorated with a stained-glass-type pattern.

The other girls at the beach were less readable than the boys, and they didn’t smile her way. She was making them jealous, and that made her laugh inside. She especially liked making the hot chicks feel peeved because of the shabby way they had treated Loren!

"Doesn’t all this attention make you uncomfortable?" Darrell asked.

“Do you want me to show less?” she asked him.

“Oh, God, no! The sight of you drives me out of my mind! And I love the feeling!”

“That’s nice, Darrell, but don’t take that feeling to any place crazy. It might hurt our friendship.”

Darrell winced. "It’s hard not to be creepy around you, Josette. My temperature goes up every time I look at you."

Josette regarded him wryly. “I’m nothing special. Look around. Almost every female with sand on her feet is wearing a bikini. Some even have string bikinis on.”

“Since we’ve arrived, I haven’t looked at anybody but you.”

“Don’t get too intense, Darrell. Intensity makes me jumpy.”

“Say now! I’m getting a little confused about what our relationship is.”

“Whatever it is, do you like it?”

“I like parts of it.”

“Don't tell me about the parts that you don’t like. It might be embarrassing.”

“You’re a hard girl to understand.”

“That must be true.”

The two of them started talking about new war game releases under the shade of a beach umbrella, but the more they conversed, the more their unspoken tension mounted.

Just then, a mob of about a half dozen teen boys came over, their flesh darkened by twelve summer weeks out in the sun. Some of them looked buff.

“Say, babe,” one of them called. “Come out into the light and bloom. I’d like you to join our volleyball game?”

Josette looked his way. “Count me out! Me and my man are having a deep conversation here!”

“I bet nothing about his nerd goes deep except his conversation!” said a boy who had a deep tan, but who needed a haircut.

“Hey!” said Darrell, belatedly exerting himself. “If you need an interpreter, the lady has just said she doesn’t want to play volleyball with you!”

One volley ball player looked his way. “With girls, ‘no’ always means ‘maybe.’”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” said Josette.

One of the beach guys reached out for Josette. “We’ve got some gals on the team. You’ll fit right in. You’ll be our secret weapon. With the best players on the other side all looking at you and not the ball, we’ll waste them!” He reached out to help her stand up.

Josette slapped his hand away.

It was Darrell who got up so he could shove the pushy guy away from his girlfriend. “Why don’t you sand ticks take off?” he asked.

The guy smirked and gave Darrell a shove. He toppled backwards and struck and sand. When he got up, he started throwing punches. Josette had never seen Darrell start a fight before. And he wasn't very good as a brawler.

The teammates crowded up and formed a ring around Darrell. They pushed him back and forth between them. Josette leaped up and started punching, too. One volleyball guy grabbed Josette’s waist and hoisted her, belly down, over his shoulder.

Some others couldn’t resist touching her legs, her sides, and her bikini’d bottom. That’s when Darrell got serious about slugging. Unfortunately, the interlopers smuggled back. Darrell was soon beaten to his knees.

“Cut that rough stuff out!” shouted a mature male voice. “Put that girl down this minute, buddy!”

In answer, Josette was plopped down on her feet. She staggered a few steps and saw that the intervening tough guy was the lifeguard on duty.

“We were just asking her to play volleyball,” a teen said.

The guard looked her way. “Do you want to play volleyball with them, Miss?” the lifeguard asked.

“I told them I didn’t want to,” she answered back.

“That’s it, then,” said the guard. “Get back to your net before I have to boot the pack of you off the beach for the rest of the weekend!”

“Let’s go,” said one of the mob. “Don’t waste time with the little blonde. She’s stuck up!”

A half a minute later, Darrell and Josette were left standing alone. The male half of their duo didn’t look happy.

“Don’t wear such a long face,” Josette urged.

“All I managed to do was to get pushed around.”

“You did your best and that makes me think you’re pretty damned great!”

Darrell sighed. “I never had to defend a lady before.”

“I hope you learned something you can use the next time,” the girl said.

“Hey,” said Darrell, “instead of hanging with these sun-worshipers, why don’t we get together with my war-game group? We always try to meet on Saturday night. You mentioned before that you're interested in war gaming.”

“I am! Just thinking about doing Advanced Third Reich with five different generals makes me hot!”

“Maybe you can take one of the easy armies, like Italy or France?”

“Hell no! I want to driving panzers into Russia!”

“Okay then! Super!” exclaimed Darrell, his eyes brightening.

#

Loren already knew Darrell’s gamer buddies and prepared a treat for them. She knew every war gamer wished they could bring hot girls into their gaming circle. When she drove Darrell to the meeting place, she was wearing a tight tee with shorts that were even tighter.

The gamers welcomed Josette with eyes wide open, falling all over one another with gallantry. Unlike the beach posers, they were scrupulously polite and treated her like a princess. This was the right sort of crowd for Josette. They were all cut from the same cloth, sharing interests in fantasy movies and books. The boys continually stole glances at her chest and her legs, but Josette understood boys too well to be offended.

#

When she drove Darrell home, he wasn’t as usual good-natured self as he usually was after a gaming session. She avoided asking questions before dropping him off, but at the zoo the next day, Darell's frustrations spilled over. "I don’t think that you’re taking our relationship seriously," he blurted.

 

"What? Where is this coming from?"

 

"It's been bothering me for a while."

 

"I do take it seriously,” she defensively replied. “Why don’t you say I’m not?”

“Because you never let us talk about important things.”

“Like what?”

“Like, you never said what kind of guy you’d most like to marry?”

“Wow, that’s a subject that’s too heavy for me! I won't be eighteen before next month and I’m living with my mother. I’d like taking a swing at being on my own for a few years before tying myself down with a…a husband.” It was hard for Josette even to pretend to want a husband.

“So, where is our relationship going? Is it even an actual relationship?”

Josette shrugged. Aren’t you having a good time with us dating? But lately you've been looking sour when you should be smiling.”

“I've got a lot on my mind. If we break up, I’m pretty sure I’ll never meet your kind again.”

“’Whoa! Who's talking about breaking up? If we’re really friends, why do we have to break up?”

“If two people aren’t aimed at the same goal post, maybe their relationship doesn’t have a future.”

“I thought I understood guys, but I sure don't understand what you're saying now,” Josette said.

“I don’t think you get how strongly I feel about you, Josette. And the vibes you give off make me think you don’t have any powerful feelings about me.”

“Relationships are evolving things. Don’t you think it’s a little early to be breaking the speed limit? I have strong feelings about you, even if they aren’t romantic. You’re already talking about marriage, but marriage never puts a seal on a relationship. It seems like people can go together for years but suddenly want a divorce a year after they get married. Please, Darrell, don’t rush things.”

“We haven’t even kissed yet.”

“Darrell! What's the big deal about kissing? A kiss can be misunderstood, and misunderstandings can ruin everything.”

“I've been getting the feeling that you're putting me into the 'friend zone.' Girls never treat friend-zone guys seriously.”

“Don’t get mad! If you start hating on me, I’m there's not going to be much left to my life. Why isn’t being friends enough?”

“I’m awfully afraid that you and I don’t want the same thing. Maybe you think we aren’t right for each other.”

Josette gave him a hard look. “If I’m not right for you, who is it you like better?”

“I don’t know anyone else. But you knew that, and you shouldn’t have forced me to say it!”

“Listen to yourself! What do you want from me?”

“We can start with a goodnight kiss,” he suggested.

“That’s nothing! It won't mean anything!”

“It might if it's lips to lips.”

“I hope you’re not thinking of putting your tongue in my mouth.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Get off it! You've never put your tongue into any girl's mouth. Without practice, how do you know you’d be any good at it?”

Darrell reacted wrongly. He shifted and glared toward the monkey cage. “I’m only joking,” Josette said. “But think clearly! We’ve only known each other for less than three months. If you start in a desert, don't you figure it's going to be a long trip to the rain forest?”

Darrell glanced back. “So, what are you saying?”

"I’m not sure. Why are you so adamant about kissing me?”

“Do you seriously not know?” Darrell asked impatiently.

 

“Cross my heart, I don't,” she replied. 

“Stop that! You're making me feel like I’m bullying you.”

“I don't want to call you a bully. I’m just saying we shouldn't change our relationship so soon. A kiss is a big deal and it would change things. Changes are sometimes for the worse. Would you really break up with me over this?” Josette asked.

“Not yet. But I can only wait for so long.”

Frustrated, Josette felt like grabbing and shaking him. Why shouldn't he be satisfied having one of the cutest girls at Westbrook High for a girlfriend? Wasn't he enjoying the prestige that came from hanging with someone as hot as Josette Melford? Why was it that two guys could remain best friends for years, but yet the best guy-girl relationships in the world rarely extended beyond a few weeks?

“You've laid a lot on my platter. I need time to contemplate this," Josette said. "For now, can't we talk about something else? The way we’re going, one of us might say something wrong, and it could be hard to take back.”

“Maybe you’re right. But we need to have a serious discussion soon.”

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Josette. “I’ve got an inkling of an idea,” she said. “It might fix this gnarly little problem we're having. And tell you about it soon, I promise.”

“Whatever you have in store, it has to be big and important. Otherwise, I won't be able to feel that I'm big and important to you,” said Darrell.

“Don’t worry,” Josette replied. “It will be about the biggest thing that's ever happened to you.”

THE END

To continue with the adventures of Josette and Darrell, see “The Dark of the Moon,” already posted here at TFTGS.

THE DARK OF THE MOON: JOSETTE'S STORY, Part Four by Christopher Leeson

 

 THE DARK OF THE MOON: JOSETTE'S STORY, Part Four

 By Christopher Leeson 

 

The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of Josette’s room, casting delicate patterns on the wooden floor. She lay in bed, her mind replaying the previous day’s adventure—the salon, the mall, the stares, the stumble. The memory of her humiliation still burned, but so did the thrill of being seen, of being someone entirely new. With a determined sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for the phone.


By nine, she had secured an appointment at Serenity Couture for a full makeover. Her grandparents, busy tending to the garden, barely glanced up as she announced her plans to shop for school supplies in the city. They nodded absently, their trust in her unwavering.


Josette dressed modestly for their benefit—jeans and a loose top—but tucked a shopping bag with a mini dress and sexy undergarments into her car. At a rest stop, she transformed herself, shedding the country girl for the city sophisticate. The mini dress clung to her figure, the fabric whispering against her skin as she moved. She left her face bare, saving it for the experts at the salon.


The drive to Licksburg was a blur of anticipation. The city loomed ahead, its skyline a promise of anonymity and adventure. She parked at the mall and made her way to Serenity Couture, where the air smelled of lavender and citrus. The staff greeted her with smiles and soft voices, their hands already reaching to guide her to the plush massage chair.


Josette closed her eyes as they worked their magic. The stylist’s fingers massaged fragrant oils into her scalp, the manicurist’s touch was gentle yet precise, and the makeup artist consulted her on every detail. For the first time, Josette felt what it was like to be pampered, to be treated as someone special. She surrendered to the experience, letting herself drift on the waves of their attention.


When they finally led her to the full-length mirror, she gasped. The reflection staring back was a stranger—sleek, radiant. Her hair shimmered, her nails gleamed, and her makeup stressed her features with artful precision. She looked like the models from the men’s magazines she’d secretly admired.


“Wow,” she whispered, turning to admire herself from every angle. The stylist beamed, clearly pleased with her reaction.


The makeup artist handed her a card, saying, “Come back anytime.”


This confidence boost carried her into the T&B Shoe Store, where rows of high-heeled pumps beckoned like works of art. She hesitated, torn between admiration and dread. The shoes were beautiful, but she had practiced high-heel walking just enough to see them as instruments of torture. Maybe women were masochists. Still, she couldn’t resist trying on a pair.


The first step while wearing the store shoes was wobbly. She paused, lest she fall, and looked into the adjacent mirror. The heels elongated her legs, making her feel taller, and more commanding. Was this feeling of pride and power the reason that girls were always so bossy?


As she admired herself, a man’s voice broke into her reverie. “Those look great on you.”


She turned to see a guy in his early twenties, his gaze fixed on her legs. “Thanks,” she said warily.


“I could buy them for you,” he offered, his smile too eager.


Josette’s guard went up. “And what do you get in return?”


“Your company for lunch,” he said, his tone light but his eyes intense.


“Lunchtime is past,” she replied, her voice cool.


“We can call it a late lunch,” he persisted, his smile turning cocky.


“I don’t take gifts from strangers,” she said firmly, turning back toward the mirror. He lingered for a moment, then shrugged and walked away. Josette exhaled, her heart racing. The encounter left her feeling both flattered and uneasy.


She decided not to buy the shoes herself. It seemed like Josie had plenty of shoes back home. But even wearing shoes, she was familiar with her first couple of steps sent her sprawling on the sidewalk. Damn! She had torn one knee of her pantyhose!


Strangers hurried up and helped her to get back on her feet. With tears prickling the corners of her eyes, she hurried from the mall with as much dignity as possible. A block away, she sat down on a cement street bench, trying to forget her embarrassment.


“Are you okay?” a woman passerby asked.


Josette waved her off.


“Young lady, if you feel lost and alone, please come to our mission.” Josette looked up at the lady’s beatific smile. Without saying more, the strange lady gave her a departing nod and continued on her way.


One glance at the paper stung Josette like a hornet. It was from a religious order offering help and support for runaway girls and hookers! She didn’t think that she looked like a hooker. She knew what high school boys liked, and she had decked herself out to look like the date they all dreamed of! Was the woman honestly talking dumb, or had she been a practical joker?


But the encounter had shaken her confidence about her appearance. She ducked into the nearest fast-food place and ordered an orange juice. The boy at the counter wasn’t trying very hard to avoid staring at her cleavage.


She turned away, sipped her drink, and found herself the unmistakable center of the local male gaze. The crowd, mostly young men, were mostly zeroed in  on her bare limbs. She straightened her posture, like a prisoner up before a firing squad. Was this what it felt like to be one of the prettier girls —constantly being looked at? Josette wasn’t sure if it was exhilarating or objectifying.


Her finished her drink double-quick and left the establishment. Being paranoid about being stared at, she entered the mall on the next block. Once inside the wide, open hall, she imagined herself walking past Loren’s friends in a Westbrook mall, making all their jaws dropping in longing. The fantasy brought a smile to her lips, but it faded as quickly. Would this fantasy come true when she returned to school as Josette? What would be feel like to be looked at not as a buddy, but as a…hot girl…whom they didn’t know? The thought made her cringe.


A glance back told her that two boys were following her. Memories of crime dramas flashed in her mind, and she ducked into the nearest store, her heart pounding. She hastened through the aisles, checking over her shoulder, and slipped out the back exit when no one was looking. She sighed with relief for having escaped, but her encounter with stalkers had left her shaken.

 

The girl from Westbrook wandered past an art museum. Its out-front statue of Prometheus and the vulture caught her eye. She’d seen before as Loren, but today it looked more like Hercules being attacked by a chicken. The absurdity of that take made her laugh, and she decided to go inside.


The exhibits inside were bathed in soft light. Josette pretended to study the objects of art but realized that -- to many of the patrons -- she had become the newest artistic display. She could almost feel male eyes burning her skin. Again, she was unsure whether she should be mortified or flattered.


Deciding on the former, she left the museum. Just having crossed the street, she nearly collided with a photographer exiting his studio. He took one look at the youthful svelte beauty and said, “You have the perfect look for my portfolio. I Can pay you by the hour to pose!”


Josette politely declined, unwilling to enter a dark room with a stranger. She walked away from  him, thinking that being a beautiful girl in a city was like being a mouse in a house full of traps.


Her mind swirling, Josette went into a cafe, ready for lunch. She ordered a pasta dinner with a cup of tomato juice to go with it.


Leaving the counter with her tray, she stumbled into a server, and he bumped her elbow. The juice splashed her face and ran down her chest under her dress, while the sticky cheese and pasta decorated her from her diaphragm down her to her high-heeled shoes! Everyone turned to gawk.


Aghast, Josette fled toward the restroom. Being rattled, she barged into the men’s room! The men inside started adjusting their clothing rapidly. One clown told her she was the most convincing transvestite that he’d ever seen and promised to take her out if she got the “operation.”


Mortified, Josette bolted from the room, but her dress caught on the door handle, making a foot-long rip in one side of it. She dropped everything and with both hands held the fabric closed while retreating into the ladies’ room. One diner in it understood Josette’s appalling condition and promised to come back with something to cover herself with.


The lady quickly returned carrying a blue cleanup-crew jacket. Washing off the goop, Josette undid her entire makeover, except for her manicure. She became a mess, her makeup having gone down the drain with the tomato juice. She tossed her ruined, soiled dress into the wastebasket. Damn it! She’d looked so good wearing that hot little number!


The borrowed smock made her a pathetic sight. It rode even shorter on her thighs than the red dress had. She left the store, trying not to run, and hurried into a nearby family shop. The ill-dressed maid bought a cheap pair of pants and a shirt and put them on inside the changing room.


Afterward, Josette went back to the cafe, entering it like a fugitive from justice. She hung the borrowed smock from a steel chair and skulked from the premises, dead set against meeting anyone who had seen her earlier disgrace.

Frantic to get out of this cruel city, she went back to her car and drove to a mini-mall on the edge of town. Having ruined her meal, she went into the local Burger King to buy another lunch. She received her order as a tray holding a milkshake, burger and French fries. The dining room was crowded, but just then a party of diners were just leaving their booth.


She ate in solitude for a few minutes, an then a boy her age approached. Using the lack of seating as an excuse, he asked, “May I share you booth?” 

She told him, “I was just about to leave, anyway.” Carried what was left of her food, she went back to her car to eat.


Afterward, disgruntled, the disheveled teen inserted the ignition key and started the engine. As drove, the day's unpleasantness kept running through her mind. When she got back to her grandparents’ house, she saw grandfather Joseph
pushing the lawn mower. He turned it off when he caught sight of her sticky hair and anguished look. She fibbed, telling him she had been soaked by a lawn sprinkler placed too close to the sidewalk. She didn’t want to enumerate the list of humiliations she had undergone.


For the next couple of days, Grandpa and Grandma guided Josette around to their favorite sites in the area. It was a dull tour, but being in adult company was a relief and she didn't feel like complaining.

 

After breakfast, Joseph took Grandma in for a check up, leaving Josette alone. She passed the empty hours of the day talking solitary country walks. There was a park with a public swimming pool and she vaguely thought she could go back to her room to fetch the bikini packed in her luggage, but didn’t feel in the mood to flash skin around. And another situation oppressed her. Tomorrow she would have to load the car and drive back to Westbrook.


School started on Monday and Josette wasn’t sure whether she should play sick or bite the bullet and attend orientation day as Josette Melford. She wondered what to do if she encountered Josie’s friends, who were strangers to her. If she flubbed at remembering their names, what would they think?


#


Josette arrived at Holend Street in Westbrook on Sunday evening. Her mother greeted  her, but the teen shared few travel stories before going to bed. As an afterthought, Josette picked out slacks, socks, and a shirt, garments suitable to wear to school the next day. Many of the girls attending dressed hot, so maybe if she dressed plainly, she thought fewer people would pay attention to her.


Josette drove to school with her convertible top down, like a leper hiding behind a mask. She parked in the student lot and sat for a couple of minutes, fighting against the urge to leave again.


She learned that interacting with strangers could lead to bad experiences, but she feared it would be worse if embarrassing things happened in front of people she knew. She took a deep breath, left the Ford, and started walking toward the school’s double doors like a felon walking toward Boot Hill. The front hall was full of people and many a head turned her way.


She could guess why the boys were looking. Loren would have looked at a girl like Josette, too,  but the  interest of the girls mystified her. She supposed that girls were just snoopy. They treated everybody's business like it was their own. Josette could hardly remember why Loren had been so attracted to girls before -- for anything other than their good looks, that is.


But, even in her dismal state, she had to admit that some girls made good moms and grandmas.


A girl approached, and Josette remembered both her face and her name. She was Josie’s friend Amanda, wearing a loud tee shirt. Amanda drew nigh and smiled uncertainly. “Josie! How come you didn’t dress for the first day of school?”


Josette smiled uneasily. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Lots of girls came dressed this way today.”


“But we agreed weeks ago that when school opened, we’d steal all the attention by wearing the rocking best tees that we bought over the summer.”


“I forgot that. I’ve been out of town and I've been bombarded by all kinds of distractions.” When Amanda didn't press the matter, Josette walked past her with a parting nod.


Well, that meeting with one of her “old friends” hadn’t gone so badly, Josette thought. It has sure helped that she could address the girl by the right name.  


For Orientation Day, the gymnasium was arrayed with teachers sitting at small tables hung with signs denoting the grade and the section of the classes for all the grades. The senior table was occupied by Mr. Bruno, a math teacher. He didn’t change his expression when he looked up at Josette. “Let’s see, you’re....”


“Josette Melford,” she clarified. “I was in Section A last year.”


The instructor took a manila envelope out of his file box and handed it to her. Josette stepped away and read it. She saw that her first class would be social studies. A minute later, the teen was out of the gym and walking down a terrazzo hall, making for room 207.


Only a few people were in the class ahead of her. At the door, a wave of anxiety came over Josette. It was creepy being among kids whom she knew. If anyone had shouted out the name of “Loren” then and there, she would have turned and run. Josie had no close friends in the under-filled social studies room and the only words spoken to her were “Hi, Josie.”


More classes followed, and no one paid special attention to her, except the boys bold enough, or desperate enough, to steal looks at her. Josette didn’t call anyone out for glancing; acting hypersensitive would only make her the center of attention.


At lunch, Josette hesitated, seeing several of Josie’s elite crowd at one table together. A couple looked her way as if to say, “Come on over!” But she was sour on the idea of joining those people. These were the smart, well-off kids who had always treated Loren like the Invisible Man. Their table looked no more welcoming than a pond of barracudas.


Josette had realize she could become one of the popular kids now, but how long would she stay popular with them after they found out that her ideas and interests had entirely changed? She looked around the room trying to spot someone whom she knew, very much like a castaway looking for a desert island.


She spotted Darrell Rivers sitting alone. She sauntered toward the boy, wanting to make a good impression in her girl persona, and so forced a bright smile onto her nervous lips.


Darrell looked up, bemused. “Hi, Darrell. Mind if I join you?” she asked.


Darrell’s eyes widened. Josette knew what was running through the guy's mind just then. Whenever an unpopular boy was accosted by a popular girl, it almost always meant trouble.


“No, not at all!” the boy said. He pulled his cup and lunch tray closer to himself so quickly that some of his chocolate milk sloshed.


Josette laughed lightly and took a napkin. Girls were supposed to be tidy, she knew. She wiped up the spill with a napkin from the dispenser. “I’m Josette. I’ve seen you around school last year quite a bit. Have we ever spoken before?” Josette honestly didn’t know the answer to that question.


“Um, nope, we haven’t.” Darrell frowned down at his tray.


“Well, you know, I’ve heard you’re one of the cool guys.” When the youth seemed too shocked to reply, she tilted her head and said, “Knock knock!”


Darrell’s face scrunched. Was this great-looking girl offering a joke? “Who’s there?” he tentatively replied.


“A broken pencil!” Josette grinned.


“A broken pencil who?” Darrell asked cautiously.


“Never mind, it’s pointless!” Josette surprised herself by giggling. Loren hadn’t been a giggler, so what gave? Were girls hard-wired to giggle? Bummer!


Darrell’s eyes lit up, and he laughed. “Good one!”


Her old friend went silent and went back to eating. But that wasn’t what Josette wanted out of this encounter.


“I’ve had a dull summer,” she said. “How was it with you?”


Darrell blinked with surprise that she was pushing for conversation.


“Uh, fine. I did a lot of reading. You...you don’t read science fiction, do you?” he asked.


“I love science fiction! I especially like the John Norman Gor stories.” She was being playful, wanting to shock her bud. He had probably had fantasies of meeting a pretty girl who like Gor. The book would sure have given a young couple something to talk about!


The youth looked agitated. “I enjoy hearing that. B--But I thought only boys read those stories.”


“I like a lot of the things that what boys read! They have great taste,” said the pert blonde. “But I thought everyone knew that Norman has a huge female following.”


“I’ve heard that, too, I could hardly believe it.”


“Well, girls are into relationships, and on Gor men and women get along so famously. On the planet Earth, nobody knows how to behave socially. How can they, with everything that's right today becoming wrong tomorrow. Is there any wonder why nobody can stay married?”


“That’s true,” Darrell replied in a low voice.


“Say, I saw a pretty great movie this summer. Top Gun: Maverick,” Josette said, changing the subject.


“I saw that, too,” said the boy. “It was great. If you want to get the news on what movies are worth going to, listen to that TV and movie critic on YouTube called Doomcock. He can tell a good movie from a stinker!”


“And if he doesn't know, Harvey Cthulhu will!" The both of them laughed.

They went on talking about movies until the clock warned them they had under ten minutes to get to their classes.


Josette abruptly asked, “Darrell, my cousin used to war game with friends in this town. He’s about our age. Do you remember anyone named Loren Melford?


“I don’t know any Melford except you.” He glanced at the clock again. “It’s time to get to go.”


“I’m glad we got the chance to talk,” said Josette. "I’ve heard you know more about popular culture than anyone else in school. There's nobody like you in the crowd I've been going with. See you around?” She made that statement sound like a question.


“Sure...” said Darrell.


“Maybe soon?”


“The sooner the better,” he said, but then winced. Boys were not allowed to sound to eager about anything.


“Yes, the sooner the better,” Josette affirmed.


Darrell smiled abashedly. “Well, I’m here every noon hour, usually alone,” he said.


Josette gave him a smile and a nod. As she headed for the exit, she could feel the warmth of his eyes staring at her back.


Their brief talk she’d had recharged her, and somehow she managed to hold herself together for the rest of the afternoon.

 

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5
 

THE DARK OF THE MOON: JOSETTE'S STORY, Part Three by Christopher Leeson

 

 

 

THE DARK OF THE MOON: JOSETTE'S STORY, Part Three

 By Christopher Leeson 

 

Josette's next awakening hit her like a blast of cold water. Sunlight streamed through unfamiliar curtains, and the reality crashed down on her--this wasn't a bad dream. She was living the life of a blonde girl! Standing in front of the mirror, she ran trembling fingers through her hair, trying to steady her breathing. Trusting the instructions, hoping the next new moon would fix things, was the only option. But that meant enduring an entire month in silence, hiding the truth from everyone.

"How am I going to handle Josie's friends?" she whispered to her reflection. They'd have expectations, memories, inside jokes—none of which Josette could know. To succeed, she had to master every aspect of Josie’s existence—a monumental task.

After forcing herself through a shower, Josette stood dripping in front of Josie's closet, still wearing the now-damp baby doll nightgown. She needed real clothes, but even that simple task felt like surrender. To voluntarily put on girls’ clothes felt too much like agreeing to this scenario. With gritted teeth, she started searching for the most neutral items she could find--jeans, plain shirts, sneakers. But Josie's wardrobe had other ideas.

"Damn it," she muttered, pushing aside another ruffled top. Josie apparently had the fashion sense of Tiffany Malloy from Unhappily Ever After -- a super minx of calculated sex appeal and cunning manipulation.

The thought of the TV show sparked another worry. How did Loren get caught up in all of this? Had he somehow wished for this transformation? She remembered his frustration when the oil experiments failed to change the white mouse's sex. But what if the magic had worked? Josette believed Loren’s reaction to seeing a sex change would have scared him off.

But here she was, stuck in this body because Loren had applied the oil to himself. What made everything worse was, according to the instruction sheet, the oil user gained not just the appearance of his ideal of girlhood, but her tastes and feelings too.

And Loren's ideals had been shaped by fictional characters, not only Malloy but also her rival Sable O'Brien, the rich party girl who treated boys like disposable accessories.

After putting on the least flashy outfit she could assemble, Josette made her way downstairs. The smell of coffee and toast filled the kitchen, where her mother was already seated at the table, scrolling through her phone.

"Mom..." Josette stirred her cereal absently, working up the courage to ask what had been gnawing at her. "Do you ever wonder what it would've been like if I'd been born a boy instead?"

Mrs. Melford looked up from her coffee, surprise crossing her face. "Where did that come from?"

"Just thinking, I guess." Josette shrugged, trying to seem casual.

"Honey, if you're asking if I ever wished for a son instead of you—absolutely not." Her mother set down her phone, giving Josette her full attention. "I would have loved to give you a brother, but if I had to choose between you and some hypothetical son? I wouldn't change a thing."

Josette pushed her cereal around the bowl. “Had I been born a boy...” She quickly stopped, mindful of the warning not to mention the transformation. One slip and she'd be stuck in push-up bras and thong panties forever.

"If you had been born a boy," her mother whispered, "I'd love you exactly as much as I do now. Children are children, and they're all wonderful."

"That's not true!" Josette couldn't help pointing out. "Every criminal on the street used to be somebody's kid."

"Yes, but I believe most of them were brought up wrong." Her mother's face grew thoughtful. "It hurts children to grow up in broken homes."

"Don't we have a broken home?" The words slipped out before Josette could stop them.

Her mother's face softened with old pain. "Marrying your father was my life's biggest mistake - and my biggest lesson. I was young and crazy in love, blind to our differences. I went into marriage thinking divorce was impossible, but..."

She trailed off, then squared her shoulders. "I'm not blaming everything on your dad, though. We were both kids playing at being grown-ups. Anyone can fall madly in love at nineteen. It's not until your twenties that you start thinking straight."

Josette caught her reflection in the polished toaster, seeing unfamiliar blonde hair and delicate features. "Yeah," she sighed softly. "I guess that's usually how it goes."

The rest of breakfast passed in attempts to mine her mother casually for information about Josie’s childhood, but the conversation grew increasingly strained. Finally, her mother glanced at her watch and stood.

"I wish we could talk more, honey, but tomorrow's the church rummage sale and I'm on the committee. Want to come along? It could be a worthwhile distraction from whatever's bothering you."

"My anxieties are always with me," Josette said, then added quickly, "I've been reading about meditation. Maybe that will help."

"Meditation?" Her mother raised an eyebrow. "That's new for you. I'm sorry I've been working such long hours lately. We need more time together."

"Yes, we do, Mom," Josette agreed quietly.

Less than an hour later, she found herself alone in the house. Josette welcomed this solitude; she required time to adjust to life as a girl. A large trunk in Josie's room had been calling to her all morning.

When she finally worked up the courage to look inside, she discovered a treasure trove of costume-party outfits from a risqué Halloween brand: Sexy Playboy Bunny, Sexy Princess Leia, Sexy Swashbuckler, and a Red Riding Hood outfit that would have any big, bad wolf's eyes popping out.

The sheer number of outfits was staggering. Josette ran her fingers over the fabric, wondering how many costume parties Josie could have possibly attended since puberty. Had she worn all these eye-catching outfits, or did she just collect them like some girls collected stuffed animals?

After closing the trunk, Josette pulled out the magical instruction sheet again, hands shaking slightly as she reread it word for word. A large question plagued her: Was the world unaltered except that Josette had replaced Loren? Or was this an entirely distinct reality, where countless lives had unfolded differently? She'd need to check a history book to be sure.

The instructions were crystal clear on several terrifying points. The transformed person had to avoid any further contact with the oil until the moon's next dark phase. A second application, while still transformed, would make the change permanent.

"Scary doesn't begin to cover it," Josette muttered.

And other ways would lead to becoming trapped in a female life indefinitely. Pregnancy would do it, but Josette would die before she went to bed with a boy. And if she told anyone about the transformation as a boy, the magic would stop working, so she couldn’t prove the existence of magic. If she told the truth in girl shape, the magic would doom her to permanent femininity. The instructions said she could only safely speak with others who had likewise been transformed by the oil. Fat chance of finding anyone else in that situation!

She felt so alone. She couldn't even tell her mom the truth. The article said the oil only changed boys into girls, which meant her mother could have no transformation experience to make her safe to confide in.

Josette flopped onto the bed, feeling more isolated than ever. The prospect of returning to school as a typical female student in just three weeks filled her with icy dread. How could she keep up this deception for so long?

“Keep it simple,” she told herself. Stay isolated. Avoid getting pulled into any of Josie's social circles where she could trip up in a thousand different ways.

She grabbed Josie's phone and checked past emails, wincing at the mounting messages from someone named Leah.

"Why is your phone off? Are you dying or something? If you're still alive, please, please answer me!"

Josette typed out a response, hoping to head off subjecting herself to a visit.

"Sorry! Still feeling awful. Mom says it's some super-contagious foreign flu that takes forever to get over, but people recover. Staying home all weekend. We'll see how I feel on Monday. Try to have fun without me!"

She silenced her phone to avoid further contact. With luck, Leah would spread the word and people would stop trying to check on her.

Next came her study of the photos stored on the phone. Various faces appeared with Josie - presumably her friends - but which one was Leah? Several of the girls were quite attractive and familiar-looking.

The yearbook provided answers. Josette paged through until she found the only Leah in their class. Recognition hit like a punch to the gut. As Loren, she'd seen that girl around school plenty of times—she was one of those untouchable popular girls who brushed off any guy below varsity athlete status. She was always hanging out with the letterman crowd. Becoming close to a cheerleader could have elevated Loren’s social status, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with the people labeled as nerds.

At the kitchen table later, enjoying a lunch of fried dough with butter and honey, Josette found her thoughts drifting to what girls wanted in guys. Men were straightforward individuals who prioritized a woman’s beauty over everything else.

Nevertheless, women sought more than just physical attractiveness in a man. They cared about things like the size of his allowance and how generous he was with buying gifts, show tickets, and lunches.

The afternoon slipped away in a haze of research and worry. Around five footsteps downstairs jolted Josette from her thoughts. She hurried down the stairs, an idea taking shape.

"Mom!"

Lynette Melford turned, surprised by her daughter's enthusiastic tone. "What is it, honey?"

"I want to visit grandma and grandpa! Just until school starts. I can pack tonight and drive there tomorrow."

"What's the sudden rush?"

Josette fought to keep her voice casual. “I want to have a good long, relaxing visit before school starts.”

"This seems very sudden. What brought this on?"

"I'm just... tired of all my friends' constant plans for parties and club trips. It's exhausting."

Her mother studied her face for a long moment. They should be pleased you’re coming.

"I'll start packing now!" Josette called over her shoulder, already heading for the stairs. She unenthusiastically packed Josie’s belongings, knowing that Loren’s favorites—sci-fi books and comics—were absent.

#

The drive to her grandparents' country house near Licksburg gave Josette too much time to think. By the time she pulled into their gravel driveway, her hands trembling on the steering wheel. But her grandmother Emma was already hurrying down the front steps, arms outstretched.

"Josie! Oh, we're so happy to see you!"

The warmth of her grandmother's embrace made Josette's throat tight. Her grandmother remembered her - or rather, she remembered Josie. Incredibly, the whole family had memories of a girl who had never really existed. "H-Hi Grams," she managed, her voice catching slightly.

"There's my princess!" Her grandfather Joseph appeared in the doorway, beaming. His bear hug lifted her off her feet. "Emma’s been cooking up a storm ever since you called."

The familiar coziness of their home wrapped around Josette as she followed them inside. Her grandparents bustled around her with their usual enthusiastic hospitality--fresh baked cookies, cold milk, rapid-fire updates about all the activities they had planned. Despite her anxiety, Josette felt herself relaxing. The countryside was always a comforting retreat for Loren.

That evening, after a dinner that could have fed twice their number, Emma showed Josette to the guest room. "We haven’t changed the guest room since your last visit," she said, smoothing the quilt on the bed. There are pajamas in the dresser. "Sleep well, pet."

The room had a simple layout--no overwhelming pink or frills. Josette donned silky floral pajamas from the drawer. At least they weren’t baby dolls.

The next couple of days settled into a routine. Her grandparents showered her with attention but seemed to sense when she needed space. They didn't press when she grew quiet or retreated to her room. But on the morning they announced they'd be gone for the day and something fluttered in Josette's chest—a sensation she couldn’t ignore.

As soon as their car disappeared down the driveway, she found herself drawn to the things she'd brought from home. Before she could catch herself and stop, she was experimenting with lipstick and powder, sliding into a party dress with a swishy skirt.

But her well-scrubbed face didn’t look quite right in it. Josette’s amateurish makeup attempt have her a streetwalker look, but she decided to leave bad enough alone.

She brought out her camera next, and she lost track of time taking selfies in many poses, tossing her hair, and blowing kisses at the lens. The high heels she'd brought from home proved as challenging as boys always supposed they were.

She tottered around the house, learning to balance her weight differently. Yet, having all her weight on the balls of her feet wasn’t a pleasant sensation. She wondered why women subjected themselves so needlessly to pain.

It was fun to walk around in a party dress. She climbed the attic steps in high heels and explored the dusty boxes full of memories—her mother's childhood things, her uncles' old hobby items, even some of Josie's baby clothes—she discovered a trove of her grandmother's vintage outfits in a shabby old dresser. The stories about Grandma being a daring girl back in the '60s came flooding back as Josette admired a risqué corset set.

Before she knew it, she was lacing herself into the corset. Suddenly she was looking at a stranger in the mirror-- a sultry saloon girl from a Western movie, ready to sashay through a barroom full of dangerous men with smoking guns and smoldering eyes. She struck pose after pose as a corset girl, wondering why modern women had abandoned such an evocative garment. In a way, it was sexier than a bikini, since a beach girl was brazenly inviting everyone in the world to look at her. But a corset girl lived in a place that was warm, dark, private, and secret.

She struck pose after pose as a corset girl, wondering why modern women had abandoned such an attractive type of garment.

The afternoon was a haze of costume changes. At one point, she even ventured downstairs wearing just a bra and panties, her heart racing at the fantasy of being seen. She could guess how a boy would be left short of breath if he saw her like that.

Only the knowledge that her grandparents would return by suppertime made her get back into modest jeans and a simple shirt. She straightened up everything he had left in a mess. When she went to sit down in the TV room waiting for them, Josette was already wishing she had more hot, girly things to dress up in.

When her grandparents left her no private time the next day, she felt frustrated, wishing they would go out together again. She enjoyed a daydream of strutting down city streets, wearing things straight out of Tiffany Malloy's wardrobe.

She wondered what it would feel like to have people looking at her decked out like a hot-looking girl. Unable to contain her curiosity, she made up an excuse about going to a movie and drove into town wearing a shirt and slacks combo again, for the benefit of her grandparents. But in the back seat, she had a couple of bags of clothing.

The public downtown restroom became her transformation chamber. Josette's hands trembled as she changed into a mini dress and pumps with two-inch heels—she was almost ready to handle three inches after diligent practice but didn’t want to fall in public.

She didn’t understand why it thrilled her to be showing off girl legs as a girl when Loren had felt nothing like that when wearing shorts. Why did she feel special having a Maidenform bra and Rio-style panties as foundational garments?

She’d learned a few things by watching YouTube makeup tutorials on the sly. She was surprised how picture perfect she looked. It crossed her mind that maybe Josie’s hands still remembered how to apply makeup the right way. With her heart hammered against her rib cage, she left the lady’s room.

She gripped her purse strap in a vise when strangers glanced her way. Part of her wanted to run away and put on something else. Another part of her being wondered whether people were thinking that she was pretty.

Loren had known about Claudette's Boudoir in the Licksville mall from back from earlier city visits. It was one of those lingerie shops that had stolen Victoria's Secret's thunder after that chain went woke. Loren had liked to look at hot lingerie and imagine real-life girls wearing it, but there was a social stigma about boys browsing in a lingerie shop. Looking the way she did, no one blamed her twice for admiring the incredible outfits on the store manikins.

"Can I help you find anything?" The sales clerk's warm smile held none of the suspicion Loren would have faced.

Josette said she was just browsing. She hadn't planned to buy anything, but with the salesgirl’s encouragement, wound up being be tape-measured. When she left the shop, she was carrying a bag full of lacy, skimpy things.

It made her pulse race to think about thinking, trying them on when her grandparents were out, and taking more selfie pictures. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She'd walked into a lingerie shop, handled all kinds of sexy little doodads, and had even tried on a few of them. But instead of coming at him like a potential sex offender, people had treated her like a welcome normal customer.

Her adrenaline high was making her head spin. She next treated herself to lunch at a café. But crossing the dining area wearing two-inch heels tripped her up-–literally. When she grabbed at a table to break her fall, it tipped over. She smacked down hard on the tiles. What she felt most was how her face burned, while the other diners stared.

"I'm so sorry!" she gasped to the staff as they rushed up to help. The manager was unjudgemental and polite, but the teen fled the café as soon as no one was looking, her appetite forgotten.

Trying to shake off the embarrassment, Josette wandered into a boutique and a mannequin wearing a slinky backless dress caught her eye. It was the kind of dress that she wished all the pretty girls wore. She was still staring when a familiar voice made her freeze.

"That would look be an absolute killer on you, Josie. Are you going to try it on?"

Behind her stood a girl she recognized. It was the same Amber from the cheer squad at Westbrook High. Heat flooded Josette’s face.

"Oh, I don’t know…." she stammered.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Amber raised her hand to signal a salesgirl. "Try it on. I insist!"

Before Josette could form a coherent protest, she was wearing the hot black number in front of the boutique's three-way mirror. Behind her, Amber bounced with enthusiasm. When Josette settled down enough to look — really look—at her reflection, Josette saw a pretty girl dressed in a way that would have made Loren's pulse race.

"Buy it!" Amber urged.

“I’ve just started shopping,” Josette protested. “I’m not a money pit and I might find something I like even better before I’m done today.”

Amber shrugged. "Suite yourself. Come on, my favorite place to eat is near here.”

“Do you come to Licksville often?” Josette asked to change the subject.

“My mother visits her home office here a lot and I sometimes travel with her. I like small cities better than large ones. Don’t you?”

“I guess I do,” said Josette.

#

Over yogurt and salads, Amber regaled Josette with horror stories about boyfriend drama. Josette bristled inwardly at the way she was talking down boys, but Loren always had enjoyed his rare chances of keeping company with pretty girls. The downside was that Amber was spewing heavy-duty girl-talk, which Loren found uninteresting and hard to listen to.

"You have to come out with me and Steve this weekend!" Amber leaned forward, her yogurt forgotten. "We're hitting the roller rink with the gang on Friday night. And Brad has been asking about you.”

“Brad?”

“He likes you!” She punctuated this with an exaggerated wink.

Josette managed a weak smile. The thought of being pawed by some handsy boy made her skin crawl. "I won’t be back in Westbrook until a couple days before school starts, Amber. Thanks, but my grandparents have Friday night plans for us," she said carefully.

#

That evening, back in the country, Josette collapsed onto her bed, exhausted by the day's emotional roller coaster. She wanted to kick herself for stumbling at lunch, but she'd also experienced a stroll into a whole new world. It was so weird.

Everyone she had met had treated her like something special. People treated girls differently than they did boys. But the words from the magic instruction sheet continued to haunt her—the oil didn't just transform bodies, it awakened feminine emotions too. It was bad enough to have to look like a girl, but Josette didn’t want to have anything to do with feeling and thinking like a girl, too.

At dinner, she gave her grandparents the sanitized version of her day before retreating to her room. In bed that night, she couldn’t stop replaying the moments of being treated as an attractive girl.

Oddly, what memories Josette half liked best were the same ones that had made Loren cringe.

Josette soon dropped off, already planning her next adventure.


TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER FOUR

The Dark of the Moon: Josette's Story, Chapter 2

  12-06-24

 
[Author's note: Far from catching up with my work, I fell further behind this month. A publisher suddenly offered me an opportunity that I want to make use of. But the extra work will tie me down for a while. In the meanwhile, I'll continue with "Josette's Story," which is written and partially polished and won't take so long to get ready to post. By the way, I'm learning how to use AI image creation apps and I added an illo to this story, and also one to Chapter one. I've always liked illustrating my stories, but I lacked good Paintshop Pro skills, and also didn't feel right about using copyrighted sources as a picture source. But AI is much faster to use and AI creations are legal to use (at least until government gets around to making a mess of things). By the way, I created a new illo to add to my old story posted here called THE TOY SOLDIER. Take a look at it. I'd like to improve every picture in that tale, but I don't have enough free time these days. Anyway, I'll get back to TWILIGHT OF THE GODS as soon as I can, but until then enjoy JOSETTE'S Story.]

 

THE DARK OF THE MOON: JOSETTE'S STORY, Part Two

 By Christopher Leeson 

THE DARK OF THE MOON: Josette's Story Chapter 2

Because she was wearing short pajamas, he didn't at first notice her face. When he looked higher, he saw her goddess-like face what had a bewildered expression. He glanced over his shoulder and realized he was in a girl’s room, which would be impossible unless this was a dream.

So far, it was a good dream. It had the makings of being the most fun lucid dream he'd ever had. But he knew lucid dreams never lasted long, and they always ended just before the real fun got going. To make this dream last, he didn't dare get too excited or else he'd wake up. Could he in invite his dream girl to in and join him? 

"Miss, can you come around to the door so I can talk to you?" he asked. "You're super-hot and I just know I'm right guy for you. I bet we share a lot of interests!"

But while he was speaking, the blonde girl was talking, too, but he wasn't hearing anything. And, now that he thought about it, his own voice sounded funny. What a minute!

His mind was less woolly now. He was standing in front of a window and talking to his own dream reflection. It was crazy, but he was dreaming about being a girl— and not just a girl, but one of the prettiest blondes he'd ever been close to. For some reason, he thought that the situation was a hot one and wondered what he could do with while it lasted.

Loren thought might be dreaming about being a girl because he had had fallen asleep thinking about that silly sex-changing oil. Maybe the strange oil induced lucid dreams. He reminded himself to keep calm again, to keep the dream from ending.

On impulse Loren felt the bust that the dream had given him, using both hands. Wow! What a sensation. Squeezing them made a shiver run through him.

Now Loren took a hard look the room around him. It was definitely a girl's room in disgraceful ill-array. It was off-putting, in fact. It reminded him that girls should be tidy. He didn't he could get serious about a slob, no matter how pretty she was.

The teen crossed to full-length mirror in the room, and suddenly became aware of how strangely his body was moving. Loren went to stand in front of the mirror, thinking that in lucid dreams a person could do anything he wanted. Cautiously, he touched himself between the legs.

He found that he was missing what a girl should be missing. Though there wasn't much there, it sure felt good when he rubbed it. The more vigor his stroking became, the more intense was the pleasure.

"Oh, this is kinky," Loren whispered, amused how girlish and sweet his voice was.
 

Loren suddenly realized was that this was no stranger's room. It was his own room, but it had been repainted, refurnished, and redecorated to be a girl's bedroom.

Crazy. It was like the room he knew so well had put on drag for Halloween. Everything in the messy place was cloyingly feminine. He frowned. The silly tastes of girls didn't appeal to him.

Loren looked at his reflected legs. Man, they looked good! But there were a couple things he wanted to see even more. He pulled out the neckline of his slip-over to take a gander at the real live girl inside. Was he saw would do credit to a photographic layout in a male magazine.

"Kinky," he whispered to himself.

Loren glanced at an envelope on the floor by his feet. It was addressed to Josette Melford.

Josette? Could that be the name of the girl whose room this was? It was funny that she would be named "Josette." It wasn’t a common name, but it had been the name of his mom's favorite character on the soap opera Dark Shadows. She had told him that if he had gotten a sister, she'd want to name her Josette.

Now Loren looked up at the poster hanging on the wall, showing some too-pretty male teen heartthrob. He was holding a mike, so he must have been some singer he didn't know. There were guys that made music for teen girls. He believed that chick music was for chicks, and guy music was for guys, and never the twain shall meet.  

On impulse, Loren crossed to the closet to see if it was loaded with sexy things. And was it ever! The closet was just as girly as the rest of the room. It was full of girl's clothing, and a lot of it looked hot! The mini dresses looked child-sized, but he wasn't complaining. They were the kind of dresses girls wore when they wanted guys to notice them. Most guys Loren knew like girls in bikinis, but really short dresses revved him up more than bikinis did. A bikini was a kind of outer wear, meant for public display. But the girl's with high hemlines had to walk carefully in fear of showing too much. There was a special trill in glimpsing undergarments that a girl didn't was trying not to show off.

Suddenly, Loren felt like exploring the rest of the house in his girl shape. He stepped into the hall and went to the stairs. This part of the house looked like the same home Loren was used to. He noticed that went he walked his hips had a funny sway. And his breasts reminded him that they had weight by the way they bounced. Girls wore bras, after all, so they wouldn't jiggle so much.

While descending in the near dark, the girl stepped on a can opener left on one step and it hurt like hell! "Ouch!" she yelped.

"Josette! Is that you?" called someone in his mother's voice. Mrs. Milford came out of the kitchen like a first responder. "Did you hurt yourself, darling?"

It surprised Loren to be called Josette. And embarrassment made her face flush being seen wearing girlie pair of pajamas.

"I s-stepped on something," Loren, or rather Josette, replied. "Why are you up so early, Mom?"

"We're having a morning presentation at the lab and I have to check in by six. Why are you still in your pajamas?"

"No reason," he said.  

"Well, if you're up you can join me for breakfast. But put on a robe to keep your jammies clean."

Josette went back upstairs, but when she reached the upstairs landing, she was fully awake. "O.M.G!" Josette thought. "This feels too real!" It was also feeling creepy, so she decided to wake up after all. His mom showing up had sort of ruined the fun.

To make himself wake up, Josette slapped herself and jumped up and down, too, repeatedly whispering, "I want to wake up!"

It didn't work. Poking himself with a nail file didn't help either.
 

He fell into Josette's disordered bed, his mind spinning. Was he in a hallucinatory delirium?


His mother called from the foot of the stairs. "Josie, honey! Have you fallen asleep again?"

Josette struggled to sit up, remembering that the paper said that he couldn't explain things to anybody, including his mom. The instructions for breaking that taboo would be dire.

With nervous hands, he took a robe off a wall hook and struggled into it. On the floor was a pair of fuzzy slippers made to look like lambs, and he slipped his feet into them. Then, taking a deep but shaky breath, he went downstairs more carefully this time.

As he stepped into the kitchen, Josette heard the toaster pop. There was a plate on the table and he sat in front of it. When the food reached his mouth, it tasted like actual food and that worried him. It wasn't like a dream anymore and he so much wanted his girlhood to be a dream.

"You don't look well, darling," Lynette Melford said. "Are you ill? Is that what made you stumble before?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I felt woozy when I got out of bed. After I eat, I want to try to get back to sleep."

"Unless you're very sick, I have to go to work," Mrs. Melford said. "Check in with me often until you're feeling better. If I don't hear from you, I'll call you. If you don't answer, I'll rush home. If you start feeling really sick, call 911. Keep your phone with you all the time!"

Her mother ate quickly and then grabbed a jacket and hurried out to the car. Josette was glad to be left alone. She went back upstairs and tried to sleep, thinking that might end the yard lighted up with daylight, he -- she -- was still a girl.
 

Josette was getting afraid that this wasn't a dream. What if the worse thing possible were true and the magic oil had done just what the paper with it said it would do!

If the copy were literally true, she would have been stuck as a girl for the rest of her life if she had mentioned to her mom that she was her son Loren. What a narrow escape from disaster!

She was horrified by her close brush with a life-changing disaster. A thing like that could ruin a person's life!
 

Her head spun from fretting. She learned something about her anatomy when she went to the bathroom and relearned the use of a toilet.

Like she'd promised, Josette's mom phoned her every hour. The teen told her that she was getting better little by little to keep her from worrying. What else could she say? Certainly not the truth!

How long would this last? She asked herself. One month? Forever?

What would he life be if she had to stay this way forever?

#
 

Everything about her life was in shambles. School would open soon. Would she have to go to school as a girl named Josette?

Josette thought hard about school. Would the kids there remember Loren Melford? If her own mother didn't know about Loren, how could she expect her classmates to? What about her best bud, Darrell Rivers? Had he also forgotten that Loren existed, too?

She thought and thought about what to do, and finally, a useful idea to mind.

In the days ahead, she would have to impersonate someone she didn't know. Everyone else in school would probably know more about Josette than she would. She needed to find out more about Josie Melford -- as she found herself calling the missing owner of the body she occupied.

Did Josie have a Facebook page? If she behaved like most girls, she would have put a lot of personal stuff online. But when the teen tried to get into Loren's Facebook page, she couldn't. His account couldn't be found. So, what now? Did Josette keep a diary or journal like Loren had?

The girl searched through that mess of a room and eventually found a shoe box filled with letters. She took them to the bed and spent the next couple hours soaking up the facts. Josette was looking for personal information about Josie Melford, trying to figure out her personality and interests so she could impersonate her. Like it or not, to avoid a lot of trouble she had to learn enough so that she could pass for the real person.

Most of the letters were from adult relatives, since younger people used texts and telephones. Not much was said in them except the "How are you and how are you doing?" stuff. Except for her mom's parents, Loren didn't have any relatives who were fun to talk to.

Josette kept looking for sources of information abut Josie, getting more and more frustrated. In his own messy room, Loren had known where everything—or most of everything—was, but this was a stranger's digs and she was clueless about where Josie kept her stuff.

It was about 3:00 p.m. before she found a journal inside a box crafted to look like a stack of books. Josette hoped it would contain the private thought of Josie Melford.

Josette didn't have to read far before deciding that the book was boring. The writing was all about girly dribble. As beautiful as the old Josette had been, the new Josette couldn't imagine that she would have been fun to talk to. She never wrote about interesting things, like science fiction, war gaming, movies, or television.

Josette shook her head. Josie wrote about her friends a lot,  almost always using their first names. Who were all these people? A couple of names sounded familiar from past issues of the school newspaper Loren had read, so they must be from Cantor High School.

But Loren and Josie had one thing in common; both of them had gotten a car from their mother. In general, it seemed like Josie had been popular with the smart set at school. Loren had always wanted to be popular, too, but only on his own terms. Josie put a lot of stock in going to parties. But to the unpopular kids, like Loren, going to parties where the girls would all ignore him was something to avoid.

Eventually, Josette realized that Josie didn't have a special boyfriend. That was lucky, since she didn't want to have to fend off some grabby guy at school. But why didn't Josie have a steady date? The mirror told Josette that he counterpart was a was a girl any boy would want to hang with. Had the teen kept her options open for some reason, or did she have a personality flaw that kept guys away from her?

But, if anything, Josette would have wished her doppelgänger hadn't been a lot less popular. She didn't want to start living Josie's social life, pretending to be someone she wasn't.

Though the reading wasn't fun, Josette forced herself to keep at it. Josie was obsessed with shopping. Her clothes-horse idols seemed to be female rock stars and actresses, which explained the party clothes hanging in her closet.

Josette came upon at note about last New Year's Eve.

"Year in review: January - Oliver and me, Margo and Matt hung out and listened to music. I didn't like most of the it but pretended I did. Tilda is going back to boarding school. I'm not sure if I'll miss her or not. She's cool about some things, but uncool about others."

Did Tilda stand for Matilda? Josette wondered. What parents would have named a kid of the 21st century Matilda?

#

Rang again. Previously, Josette had ignored it, preferring to be "radio silent."

But she realized that could be a mistake. Silence might induce a concerned friend to come to the house and check on her. What if she didn't know the name of the person who dropping in? Word could spread that she having mental problems. So the girl looked at the cell's screen and saw that it read "Leah."

"Leah?" she spoke into the device.

"Oh, Josie! I haven't heard from you for a couple of days."

"Ahh...I haven't been feeling well. I'm staying in. In fact, I haven't even changed out of my pajamas. I tried to read a little, but I'm too blah even for that."

"That's too bad. Have you been thinking about this weekend?"

Josette had to bluff. "Unless I feel better, I'm not sure I'll be up for the weekend."

"Oh, it could be so much fun! We still have tons of plans to make!"

"I can't concentrate on planning right now," Josette said. "I get dizzy just standing up."

"Should you see a doctor?"

"My mom's pretty smart about health and doesn't think I've got anything serious."

Wanting to cut the conversation short, Josette said, "Look, I've been running to the bathroom all day and I have to go again. Let's finish this conversation next week when I'm up to form."

"Next week? Do you feel that sick?"

"No, I just mean as soon as possible. But I can't hold back any longer. Got to run. Love you, kid." Then she switched off the phone.

By that time it was almost six. The teen could hear someone walking around downstairs. She could only hope it was her mom and not a serial killer.

Somebody was climbing the stairs and Josette tensed. "Josie!" came her mother's voice. The door swung in.

Mrs. Melford blinked. "You haven't dressed all day, darling. Have you been that ill?"

"I'm getting better, like I said. But I don't feel like going anywhere, so what's the point of getting dressed?

"How are you eating?"

"My appetite's gotten better, too," Josette said.

“Do you think your problem could be mononucleosis?”

"I don't know. Is that going around?" the teen asked.

“Not that I heard. It could be iron deficient anemia.”

“How's that treated?”

“By taking ferrous iron supplements.”

“That doesn't sound too disgusting.”

"Or you could have depression," her mom said. "Have you had anything to be depressed about?"

Oh, brother! If she could only tell... "A little. I don't know why," the teen replied.

"Well, you're facing the start of your senior year. That's when a young person realizes that he's on the brink of adult life, and that's always stressful."

Josette ad-libed. "Yeah. When I page through college catalogs, I can't figure out what I want to study. Everything seems so...dull."

"You were talking about fashion design before."

"Ah, yeah... I was kidding myself about that. Sometimes I think I have no fashion sense at all. And it depresses me to have to leave so many friends behind."

"That's one of the many sad things about growing up. But, you know, if you hit upon a career choice that you really want, it will become fun for you."

"If you say so."

Mrs. Melford smiled. "You don't sound too sick. Give me about a half hour and I'll have something on the table. By the way, what happened to your promise to get this room cleaned up?"

"If I had been feeling better today, I would have tackled it," Josette fibbed.

"I hope you'll get to it soon. How can anyone feel pretty living in a roped-off disaster area? Why don't you dress up your room as nicely as you dress yourself?"

Josette looked askance at her mom. "Do you like the way I dress? I mean, do you approve of...my fashion taste?"

"I wasn't sure about teen fashions, but all the women's magazines tell us there's no way to fight back against the youth culture. Think of when Victorian-born women had to raise flapper daughter! In your grandma's day, her folks were dead set against miniskirts, but she wore them just the same.

"Think that with all the problems this country has, high hemlines are the least of our problems. Anyway, I feel proud when I see you outshining the Hollywood starlets."

"I'm feeling worse again," Josette said, not liking to continue this conversation.

"We'll get some iron into you. If you're still unwell in the morning, we'll have you checked out."

Mrs. Melford went out into the hall, but looked back and said, saying, "I'm doing the wash Sunday. Please put your dirty things into the machine as soon as you feel strong enough."

"Okay, Mom," said Josette forlornly.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 3

THE DARK OF THE MOON: JOSETTE'S Story, Part 1

 

 

 

11-10-24 

Revised 12-06-24

 

THE DARK OF THE MOON: JOSETTE'S STORY, Part One

 

By Christopher Leeson 

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  It wasn't possible to get the next chapter of TWILIGHT OF THE GODS ready for posting this week. But I didn't want to miss my accustomed posting day, and so I'm offering a sneak peek at a work whose first part was ready to go. It is the prequel of the story "THE DARK OF THE MOON," which was posted here at TFTGS years ago. I checked; it's still there. Hopefully I will be able to start posting "Josette's Story" in earnest after the posting of TWILIGHT is finished. I want to go back to TWILGHT next month. Here's hoping. By the way, I wanted to put this note into the ending comments box, because the box hasn't been working right for me all year. It beats me why Blogger.com doesn't fix it.

Loren Melford had time to kill, and the mall was his favorite place for doing that. "This is so unfair," the teenager grumbled inwardly. He stole a quick glance through the window of Amanda's Secret lingerie shop. He had to be careful because people were so unfair and judgmental.

They always supposed that a guy who was too interested in women's nighties must be either a sex fiend or a cross-dresser. So he would "casually" walk past the display window and roll his eyes over the window displays while pretending that nothing was catching his eye. In fact, he was was trying to see everything at super speed and store it away by photographic memory.

If only he had a photographic memory!

Life is crazy, it seemed to Loren. If this were a free country, he would have gone into the shop and looked everything over while taking his time about it. But that would have gotten him labeled a pest by the staff and a degenerate freak by the customers. He could only avoid that ignominy by taking a girlfriend into the shop with him, but he unfortunately didn't have a girlfriend, and didn't suppose he'd have one in the near future.
 

He wondered why should a guy be treated like a pervert just for acting on the natural male instinct. Weren't lingerie and party dresses created to attract men's attention to the girl wearing them? If men—even men of his age—were not supposed to ogle at scantily clad girls, who in hell was supposed to do the ogling?  

The world was full of crazy rules; they were like a noose around every man's neck. But who had made up the rules? The preachers? That couldn't be. People didn't care about preachers opinions these days. And the even the preachers weren't all that big on morals. What they were interested in was preserving their tax-free status.

Was it women who were making the rules? If women were making up the rules for men to follow, that was so wrong! It never happened in the other direction. Men were called Neanderthals if they made even a small suggestion about how women should behave.

Being a male in 21st Century America was like being treated like an American Indian in the 19th Century. It was Washington politicians who decided that free-roaming Indians should live on reservations. Did that help society? Hell no! The crooked government Indian agents treated them like hell while they lived in miserable sheds. The way America treated innocent people were treated hadn't changed. The only thing that changed was which groups would going to be the fall guys for the current generation.

When younger, Lore had liked to lie on his pillow, imagining he had the superpower of invisibility. And the best place for an invisible man to go was someplace, any place, where the hottest-looking girls got together.

But he gave up on that fantasy after about ten years because thinking about doing the impossible depressed him too much. He started filling his time with "allowed" things – like grooving to movies, TV shows, concerts, the internet, games, books, and comics. But while he was doing those things, deep down he was wishing that he lived in an alternate where where the high school where the TV comedy "Unhappily Ever After" was set was a real place where he could attend. That school was hemline heaven!

He was frustrated. A lot of men worked off their sexual frustrations by watching sports, but the only sport Loren cared about was women's figure skating. He didn't notice the skaters'  technique, but her sure noticed their costumes. For some reason those ice-skating babes liked to wear outfits just as hot as what Las Vegas chorus girls danced in. And what was wrong with that?

The lunacy of life could drive a man crazy. No wonder there were so many addicts and drunks. He thought that if society wanted to get rid of self-destructive people, it should stop treating people in ways that could make them suicidal.

Suddenly, Loren realized someone was standing behind the mall hall bench he was sitting on.

"You look like the sort of young man who needs what I can give him," said someone in an old lady's voice.

He looked back and found that the speaker looked about how he expected. She must have been pushing sixty-five and hadn't gone easy on the fattening foods. Whatever she had to offer wasn't what he wanted.

"Are you talking to me, ma'am?" Loren asked.

"I know what I'm talking about, because I have psychic abilities, and can see your blue aura," the stranger said.

"Do you mean my Lee jeans?" he asked.

"Oh, no! Do you even know what an aura is?"

"Oh, sure. They're colored lights, aren't they?"

"They are, yes. And your aura is blue. Blue-aura boys are very special. Whenever I see a blue-aura boy, I try to do them a favor."

"Don't bother. You're creeping me out. If it won't insult you, I'd like to take off for home right now."

"I won't take a minute of your time," the sag-jowled woman said. "And there is no reason to say more than I have. I have something for you to read. If you read it and do what it says, you might become a much happier person very, very soon."

She handed him a tiny box. He had thought she was going to hand him a religious magazine.

He frowned. "What's in there? Drugs?"

"Not at all. It contains a little bottle that comes with a page of instructions. It's like what you get when you pick up a drugstore prescription. The medicine will do you good, but if you don't follow the directions, there can be adverse side effects. Always be careful."

A prescription? Now Loren was sure that she was pushing drugs. "I don't trust gifts from strangers. And I don't have enough money to buy anything."

The woman chuckled. "It's not for sale. I only want to help people. This magic oil is just what a blue-aura boy needs. But don't take it until you read the directions. If you do, anything that happens will be no one's fault but your own."  

She put the box on the bench beside him, turned, and hobbled away.

Loren sat staring down at the little box. He thought he should leave it there and walk away, but if the substance was harmful, somebody could pick it up, use it, and be harmed. He decided the best thing to do would be to take it to Mall Security.

Loren didn't know where to find Mall Security, so he checked the directory kiosk. It gave him a room number, so he went there directly and found a cramped office with a paunchy security guard sitting at a desk. Loren couldn't see what he was looking at, but he quickly punched a single key. It was probably a "boss button."

Loren told him about his encounter and the man took the box, shook it next to his ear, and listened. Maybe because he was less paranoid than Loren, he opened the box. Inside was something that looked the size and shape of a little perfume bottle. The security man squinted and peered through the tinted glass, and then set the vial on his desk. The box also contained a folded piece of printed paper, which the guard started reading. After a couple of minutes, he started shaking his head.

"It's some crazy stuff. The woman you talked to must have been one of those New Age mystical types. The paper talks about magic."

"What are you going to do? Send it to a lab?"

"No, we just throw silly things like this into the toxic waste disposal box."

"What does the letter say?"

"Like I said, it says that the oil in the bottle will work magic. I'm not paid enough to want to read the rest of its garbage."

"What if it's narcotics or poison?"

"That's the business of the people who work with the toxic materials box. If you're afraid it's harmful, just leave it with me and I'll get rid of it."

"I'm curious. My mom is a pharmaceutical scientist. If I showed it to her, I bet she could tell what's in it. And that will give me a subject to write a school essay about."

"Sure, sure, kid," the guard said. "Finders, keepers. Somebody gave it to you, so it's yours." He put the vial and the letter back into the box, closed it and then handed it back to Loren. "Just don't breathe it in and get yourself high unless your mom says it's safe."

Loren departed the security office with a worse opinion about big business than he'd had before. But it had been a dull day, and this was a kind of real-life adventure. Somehow, he wanted to read what the slip of paper said before he decided what to do with the bottle.

#

Loren sometimes wondered how his mom could work an important full-time job and keep the Melford house clean. He would have to spend the night alone again because Cantor Pharmaceuticals had sent her out of town. When he'd been small, his mom would put Loren in the back seat with the luggage and take her with him.

When he turned sixteen, he'd been allowed to stay home alone, since he no longer needed a sitter. Right now, he was thinking about calling his friend Darrell before bedtime. That would give him something to do for an hour.

Loren took the box to the living room table and turned on the chandelier light above it. He wanted to read the letter that had come with the little bottle.  

The guard hadn't been kidding; the thing read like the plot of a fantasy story written in a concise, orderly way, without noticeable grammatical mistakes or misspellings.  

What it said was a lot weirder than he had expected! The copy claimed the vial was a sex-change potion! It said, "This distillation will allow a young male to take on the physical attributes of the favorite female image he holds in his mind. But BEWARE. This is magic of the highest order, and violating the stated taboos may bring on undesirable and irreversible side effects."

No wonder the guard hadn't read very far! But somehow thought the idea of sex change was hot! One of the most memorable sf novels he had read was The Identity Matrix, by Jack L. Chalker. He continued reading.

"To commence a sex change, place a small drop of the oil extract upon the bare flesh of the subject to be transformed. The transformation will magically initiate at the start of the next dark moon. The shape-change shall be stable until the next dark of the moon, at which time the subject shall revert to his natural form without effort, and without ill effects."

What was the dark of the moon? A cloudy night? An eclipse? The new moon?  

The youth checked his smartphone. A Net search told him that "the dark of the moon" was the period of the moon's cycle when its light was not visible from Earth.  

That was too vague. He tried another link.

1: The period at the time of a new moon when the moon's light is absent from the nighttime sky

2: A period when the moon is not shining, or when it is obscured.

It also said that the magical effect would be almost instantaneous if the oil was applied during the three days of the moon's darkness.

Okay, so the dark of the moon was another term for "new moon."

He read on.  "The transformed boy may develop emotional or psychological traits that mimic the behavioral traits of his ideal woman.

"The user will exist in an alternate world in which family, friends, and physical records will attest that the subject has been a female from birth. Also, the subject's physical environment will change to conform to the new reality. For example, a boy who becomes a girl may find that his closet is now filled with female clothing."

Wow!  This wasn't just a sex change, it was a full-blown reality-warping spell. The concept was absolutely impossible! Even if there were magic, no magic could be that powerful! This stuff was nonsensical.

Somehow, that realization disappointed Loren.

The teen skimmed ahead, trying to find the term "blue aura" mentioned, but couldn't find anything. What he discovered was a paragraph entitled "Taboos."  

"The spirits that enable the change of the boy's reality will abandon the spell if the subject seeks to expose their existence to the material world. Their abandonment results in making his alternate life as a female permanent. If the subject breaks the taboo while in male form, the magic oil will become inert for him and he will lose his ability to experience a female reality.

A second warning followed: "If one is already transformed, he must not reapply the oil to his body before reverting to his natural form at the beginning of the next dark moon. If this taboo is violated, the subject shall continue to exist in his female reality for the rest of his life.

Wow! If this silliness were describing something real, it was too dangerous to mess with!

And then he came upon a really nasty taboo. "If the subject in female form becomes pregnant, he will remain female for the duration of his life."

Loren could only imagine that the lady who gave him the box was off her rocker, or else she was doing it to frighten people. But Loren couldn't imagine anyone being frightened by something so obviously unbelievable.

Maybe this "magic" oil could be a hallucinogen, and reading the paper could somehow determine what the hallucination would be. In that case, the oil would produce something like an LSD trip.  

Once he'd read everything, Loren put the bottle and the paper into a safe place and got up to make his lonely dinner.

He felt sad remembering his parents' divorce. Now his dad was living a thousand miles away with a new wife and child a thousand minds away, and he was lucky to see him as much as once a year.

But when he tried to stop thinking about his family life, he started thinking about the bottle again.

Loren realized he could do a simple experiment on his own. Mrs. Melford had a small lab in the house, and she kept a few white mice for her experiments. It was Loren's duty to feed the stock during her absences. He wondered what would happen if he exposed a white mouse to the oil. If the mouse died, well, he could pay his mom for a mouse replacement out of his allowance.

After a quick meal, Loren went to the laboratory and put on a pair of quality rubber gloves after carefully checking them for pinhole-sized leaks. Then he donned a high-grade breathing mask. Finally, he opened the vial, which was only conventionally sealed.

He used tweezers to remove the inner seal, and then carefully washed the tweezers without touching them, not even with his gloves. He avoided breathing deeply when the bottle was open, even while wearing the safety mask.

Loren placed the vial on a lab dish, which would capture any spillage should the bottle be tipped over. He unstopped the vial and wetted the Q-tip's cotton tip with the oil, which he then set down on an absorbent tissue.

The teen went to the mouse cage and randomly took a white mouse out. But when he saw it was female, he returned it and took a male instead. Since he was doing a sex-change experiment, he wanted to do every detail perfectly. The little beast didn't struggle, being used to being handled by Loren and his mom.

Loren carefully rubbed the wet Q-tip on the rat's belly, making sure the oil reached the creature's skin. Subsequently, he washed the Q-tip inside a tuna can full of soapy water. This presumably contaminated water he poured into the sink and turned on the facets to flush it far into the sewage system. Finally, Loren put the Q-tip into his mom's wall-mounted toxic waste receptacle.  

Still wearing his gloves, Loren used a spray-on cleaner and Bounty towels to clean the bottle and every part of his work area thoroughly. He took the soiled towels to the backyard barbeque where he burned them, being careful not to breathe any of the smoke.

Though he was taking every precaution, Loren did not really believe in magic. But whether the oil was toxic or magical, he didn't want its smallest particle to contact anyone.

Finally, Loren examined the mouse, still wearing his gloves. He thought it was behaving normally. Of course, the paper had said that the magical effect would manifest only with the "dark of the moon." But when would that event occur?

Returning to his computer, the teen checked the date of the next new moon and found that it would happen in thirteen days and be most perfect at 11:51 pm.  

His anticipation of the next new moon remained on his mind when he dropped off to sleep.

In the morning, Loren checked on the mouse and saw it was spry and active. After breakfast, he switched on his desktop and searched for "blue aura." There was a fair amount of New Age "teaching" about auras, even blue ones.

A passage said, "The presence of blue energy in a person's aura is linked to an openness to receiving or perceiving spiritual energy. People with a blue aura may have a strong sense of intuition, but be unaware of where their instincts come from. "Blue auras are often associated with calm, collected people who live a balanced life. In short, the meaning of a blue aura often reflects a relaxed, receptive energy that is aware of the bigger picture.

This was all very well, but it had said nothing about sex changes or femininity. Maybe the old lady's ideas about blue auras were crank, or they represented the thinking of a tiny cult that no one ever heard of.

Loren's mom returned from her trip, and Loren's summer days became humdrum, just as before. But the day of the next new moon finally arrived.  

Loren wondered why he kept obsessing about this matter. He decided it was because it was a fun flight of the imagination.

At 10:30 pm, he next checked on the rat for the hundredth time. It still looked just fine, chipper and eager for his grain -- and it was definitely still male.

At midnight, and again at breakfast, he saw no change in the mouse.

#

Either the oil was a slow killer—like inducing cancer or heavy metal poisoning—or it was harmless.

A month passed, and Loren realized another new moon had come around. "Maybe I should leave bad enough alone..." he began thinking. But then...

All the next month, Loren mentally speculated about how beautiful girls experienced life. Beauty made a girl popular, he knew, and she was treated like royalty. Loren's life was very different. People seemed to forget he existed as soon as they looked away from him.

It was actually angry that the mouse hadn't changed sex. Just once he would have liked something to happen in the real world that wasn't dull and hum-drum. Maybe that was why that was the reason he impulsively wetted another Q-tip with the mysterious oil and dabbed it on his forearm. He had been promised magic, but there was no magic. This was his way of telling the world of phony magic-makers, "F* you!"
 

Seconds after the oil had touched him, a chill ran through Loren's body and suddenly everything went dark.

#

When Loren woke up, it was still dark.

It was obviously too early to get up, and he wanted to go back to sleep, so he just lay there. But something kept tickling his cheek and kept coming back after he repeatedly brushed it away. More wide awake now, he felt something like a web draped over his face. He took a handful and gave a yank to get rid of it.  

Ouch!

Something had pulled his hair. What was this?

Sitting up, Loren swept his face with both hands, trying to brush the web-like stuff away. When he made a grab at the stuff and pulled it, his scalp hurt again. Flummoxed, he threw off the blanket and swung his legs off the be. Switching on the lamp, he stumbled still half asleep toward the dresser where he could check the mirror to find out what was stuck to him.  

Blinking the blur from his eyes, he was surprised to see the dresser was loaded with unrecognizable things. When he glanced bemusedly at the dark window to the outdoors, he saw a girl looking at him.

And what a girl!

She had lots of pale blonde hair and had on a scanty and super-hot pale blue nightie with a white lace trim. His glance zeroed in on her cleavage, and he immediately wondered what her legs looked like.

It dawned on Loren that he was dreaming, that he hadn't really awakened at all. He took a second around the room and realized that it wasn't his bedroom. He was standing in a messy girl's room with plenty of feminine things cluttering it. 

Now that he realized he was having a lucid dream, he thought this was an opportunity to have some fun! He liked being alone with a beautiful girl his own age. In a lucid dream you could do anything you pleased and nobody could say anything about it. Nobody could blame him if he took a dream girl into his arms and smacked her down with kisses.

Loren at the girl again. She was really there and she was gorgeous. He stepped close to touch her, but his nose touched what felt like cold glass. His  hands touched the glass, too. This was a bummer. Why was it that he couldn't get a break, not even in his own dreams? If he couldn't touch her, he could at least look at her, and what he most wanted to look at were her legs. Wow! Her pajamas were very short, and she had knockout thighs! Babes like her were meant to be chorus girls dancing on a stage!

Worried that he would soon wake up, he began speaking. "You're a pretty one! Why don't you come around to this side and get to know each other?"
 

He suddenly realized that the voice coming out of his mouth sounded all wrong. When he touched his throat, his lower arm rested on something that was soft, warm, and wonderful...

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 2