Chapter 3 - My Side of the Fence

The students are gathered in the room with the carving. Mrs. Grace pushes her way through the crowd.

"Excuse me, please." She makes it and finds the boy and the girl on the floor.

One of the less studious types steps forward. His finger extends toward his classmates. "Isn't this cute? They're sleeping together." The teens burst into raucous laughter.

The educator rubs her temples and approaches the fallen ones. "Okay, so this may seen boring to you, but I didn't think it would put you to sleep." She bends down and shakes the girl lightly. Nothing. She shakes the boy a little harder. He is also motionless.

Mrs. Grace puts a hand over her face. "Oh, Lord."

"Ooooooooh…!" The international children's phrase meaning 'You're in trouble'. The students seem to know it well.

"That's not funny!" She places two fingers on each of their necks. "Thank goodness. They're still alive." She waves a few students over. Two of them each sling an arm around their necks and 'walk' them out.

XxXxXxXxX

"So, they're okay?"

"I imagine that, with a good night's rest, they'll be good as new in the morning."

"Thank goodness."

"Again, I really don't know what happened, but I am deeply sorry."

"My child wasn't hurt and they'll be fine. What's there to be sorry about?"

The teen overheard the conversation even as they slept. Of their own accord, fingers run along the fabric of the bed. It feels really soft…softer than it ever has. The teen chalked it up to the feeling of being in bed at night; when one's body is significantly relaxed and sensations of warmth are increased.

XxXxXxXxX

The sun peeks in through the window of the room, sparkling on the face of the occupant. The person covers their face to block the light. With a stretch, the brown-haired teen scratches their backside and stumbles out the bedroom door.

XxXxXxXxX

Water runs in the sink. A good portion of it gathers in two cupped hands. The person brings the liquid to their face.

"Hurry up, dear. You don't want to be late for school!"

"Coming, mother!" The teenager gives their throat a light pinch and clears their throat. No way in the world their voice was so high.

XxXxXxXxX

The teenager rubs their eyes as they re-enter the room in which they slept. A couple of blinks later, the minor shakes its head. What happened to this place? Sure, the same old action movie posters are there, but they were attached to a pink wall. The wall of the room is supposed to be blue!

The top drawer of the bureau is opened. There's bras and panties in here. Is this supposed to be someone's idea of a joke?

The teen walks by the full-body mirror and goes back to it. Giving a closer look, the teen is surprised by what they see. Granted, the hair is as brown as ever, but it flows down to just past the shoulders, the ends perfectly curled.

Where there would be a pair of boxers was now a pair of pink panties with a red heart on the back. (They seemed so cute a couple years ago.) Even more peculiar is that, instead of a t-shirt, there was a bra that barely contained a pair of D-cup breasts.

The brown-haired girl - at this point, there is no pretending - does the only thing she can think of…

"Moooooooom!" The cry came out much squeakier than she had wanted.

Moments later, Timmy's mother opens the door. "Oh, Tiffany. What is it?"

'Tiffany', the girl thought to herself. "My room! It…it's…!"

"Honey, I know you wanted a lighter shade of pink, but this was all the store had left. For the life of me, I can't understand why you wanted to keep these movie posters up. It's like they belong in a boy's room."

"Mom! My…" 'Tiffany' motions to her breasts. Clearly, this is still a shock to her.

"I know the bra seems small, but you were embarrassed by going shopping. I had no idea they'd turn out like this."

"But this isn't my body!"

"Oh, Tiffany, you say that now, but in time, you'll grow to love it." The woman gives her…daughter a big hug. "Now get dressed."

The woman walks out. As she does, Tiffany is sure she hears the words "Why couldn't my boobs have been that big when I was her age?". The girl chokes a little and slumps down on her four-poster bed, complete with satin sheets.

The girl looks down at her new additions. She hops a little on the bed, her breasts bouncing a bit on her chest. A slight smirk appears on her face. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad.

XxXxXxXxX

The figure in the king-size bed tosses and turns, groaning deeply. It rolls onto its stomach, causing it to cry out. The person leaps out of bed and looks down. Instead of a nightie, the figure is clad in a t-shirt and boxers.

"Okay, this is weird." The voice coming out sounds somewhat deep, like a male voice. Of course, everything sounds weird when one gets up in the morning.

The figure disappears into the adjacent bathroom, the door closing behind them.

"Oh, my God!"

XxXxXxXxX

The reflection in the bathroom mirror is that of a young man. His looks, while not devastating, mark him as unconventional and his dark hair is tied back in a ponytail.

He slips his thumbs under the elastic waistband of his shorts. He takes a peek at the…thing taking up residence inside. It certainly wasn't there when the person went to bed last night…he was sure.

"Virgil! Get ready for school!"

The elastic snaps back. The young man doesn't know what to do. He had no idea how his parents would react to this. After all, they have two daughters: Vicky…and what used to be 'her'.

The person clears their throat. "Umm…coming." He tried to make the voice sound as feminine as possible, but it wasn't easy.

XxXxXxXxX

'Virgil' looks down at his…'special purpose', thumbs in elastic once more, and jiggles it around. "Wow. I never thought I'd see one like this."

The bedroom door opens. A red-haired man walks in. "Hey--whoa!"

The lad looks up. He covers himself up. "I'm so sorry, daddy. I just…"

"Hey, there's always time for that, sport. Just not now."

Virgil gives his father a shocked look.

"Your mom's making breakfast. You don't want to forget that."

"Um…sure."

"Great. See you soon."

Virgil looks around what seems to be his room. He didn't recognize anything. The room was blue-green, a far cry from the pink of yesterday. Also, the posters that were once on the walls - mainly of favorite musicians - were gone.

To the dark-haired young man, something was definitely wrong.

XxXxXxXxX

Tiffany walks down the crowded hallway, garnering stares from the male population. Much to her annoyance, all she had were blouses, dresses and skirts to wear. All of her pairs of pants were in the laundry. The light blue skirt she wore showed off her legs, which given her nervous expression wasn't her intent.

Her books are clutched to her chest. It's fairly normal for a young girl to be self-conscious about her looks, regardless of how impressive they are. Less normal is that this girl wasn't always a girl. Sure, she knew her boobs were spectacular, but there's no reason for everyone else to know.

"And I spilled my favorite black cherry nail polish all over the living room couch and my mom had a freakin' cow. I tried to tell her that it's no problem. Just get the cushions dry-cleaned or whatever. Then, she starts in like…"

If there was one thing about Lina, it's that she liked to talk…and talk. At first glance, one would consider her a gossip, but nothing could be further from the truth. She has no desire to go on about others, mainly because she considers them less interesting than herself. This causes her to talk at length about things that involve - and are of exclusive importance to - her.

Her latest free-form babble, about the events of last night, becomes white noise to her boyfriend, Pat.

"…then Dad gets in my face and I start crying, because he can never resist my tears, you know?"

Lina turns toward the jock. "Hello! Are you listening to me?"

He offers no response. She follows his gaze toward the brown-haired girl walking down the hall. Lina kicks his shin, eliciting a yell, and stomps off after the shy girl.

The older girl steps in front of Tiffany. "What do you think you're doing?

"Walking to my next class."

Lina extends her finger. "Listen. You see him?" Tiffany looks toward Pat. "That's my boyfriend. Not yours. Mine."

"Good. I don't want him." Tiffany walks away, rolling her eyes.

"So, what? Now, he's not good enough for you?"

The brown-haired girl sighs. "I hate high school."

A dark-haired girl by an open locker looks at the angry young miss stalking past her. She gives her a surprised look as she puts her long hair up, holding it with a pink scrunchie.

XxXxXxXxX

The rest of the day had gone by surprisingly fast. Tiffany was usually one to root for this, but more because of her irritation with her studies. Her amazingly feminine body gave her a new reason to dread school. Deep down, she was quite unnerved by all the stares she had received. After all, she wasn't born like this.

"Now, I hope all of you were able to find items about which to write." Mrs. Grace erases the blackboard. "These reports are due in two weeks."

The class groans.

"Miss Turner. Mr. Flanagan. I'd like to see the both of you after class." The bell rings and the students walk out. Tiffany and Virgil walk up to the teacher's desk.

"Now, if you two aren't up to completing the assignment, I understand."

Virgil speaks up. "It's no problem, ma'am. I just know I'll be able to get this done." As the young man talks, Tiffany stares at him.

"Very good. Tiffany?"

"Yes?"

"Will you be able to do the assignment?"

"Yeah. Sure." Given the hurried tone in her voice, the girl didn't seem to be listening. She still stares at the boy.

"Wonderful. You have two weeks." Mrs. Grace shuffles some papers and leaves the room.

Tiffany shakes her head. "It can't be."

Virgil grabs the girl's hand. "Yes, it can. We need to talk."