Mark Lansing never wanted to stand out. He was perfectly happy disappearing into a football huddle with the rest of the team until one play made him the talk of the town. Thrust into a spotlight he never wanted, every choice can reshape his future, and every decision could transform him in ways he never believed possible. Mark’s destiny will be determined on the field … assuming he can figure out how to dress the part.

Chapter 5

"Ouch."

It wasn’t the first time Mark woke in pain. Every time he rolled too far in either direction brought an immediate result.

Emily asked, "You can’t sleep either?"

Mark smiled at the sight of his girlfriend in an old pair of his sweatpants. Jeffrey would love that. "Nah."

Emily turned, "I told you I’d sleep on the floor."

"I know."

Mark’s sister’s room reeked of stale cigarettes, and Emily said there was no way she was sleeping there. Mark wasn't about to sleep in his sister's bed, so that left one option - they'd share his room, and he'd take the floor.

Emily announced, "I’ve done some research trying to figure out what’s happening to you. I haven’t found much. The internet is full of conspiracy theories."

"Figures." Mark nodded.

"Only one thing that sounds plausible." Emily pointed at the screen. "Have you ever heard of changlings?"

Mark smirked, "Yeah. I think I saw something on TV about them right after a show about Bigfoot and UFOs."

Emily said, "I’m serious Mark. Something absurd is happening to you, and we don’t know why. Would you prefer we go see a doctor?"

"No." Mark sighed. He could only imagine what Doc Glenn might say about his chest. "What did you find out about changlings?"

"Well…" Emily pointed at the screen, "… I found a theory tying changlings to the traveler community. I found one traveler in town who claims to have experience with them and other psychic phenomena. She has an office on 3rd and State."

"An office?" Mark said, "Aren’t travelers supposed to … well … you know … travel?"

"Very funny." Emily didn’t look amused, "Do you have a better idea?"

Mark looked down. Pressing either side of his chest made his insides feel all weird. "I need a shower."

"Good idea." Emily nodded, "You take a shower. I’ll do more research."

The warm water felt amazing as Mark closed his eyes…

He saw the ball floating towards him. The memory kept coming back. The ball hit his outstretched hands … the bounce crushing an entire town’s dreams with a drop. Mark watched it fall then lay on the grass, his body frozen stiff as a board.

Mark shook his head to rid himself of the memory, working the soap over his skin, hitting all the important bits but avoiding his chest. A quick rinse and a jump from the shower landed him squarely back in the reality of a mirror.

Mark smiled. Emily was right. He didn’t look so bad.

The area around his nipple looked a little different but it wasn’t like guys on the team had photographic recall on their teammates’ chest. The nipple didn’t look out of the ordinary either, maybe raised slightly but some of the linemen on the team were much bigger.

But appearances lie. Mark pressed down on the flat disc that had formed under his skin. It was no bigger than a dime and not noticeable in the mirror but the area felt funny every time Mark touched it.

The door opened with a bang. "What the hell Emily?"

Emily stood with her hands on her hips. "Stop touching yourself."

"It hurts."

"I know it hurts." She pulled out a piece of cloth.

"What’s that?"

Emily held a piece of satin material in the air. ""I know you don't have much experience with girls, but I'm sure you’ve seen one of these before."

Mark shook his head as soon as he realized what Emily was saying. "No way." He crossed his arms despite the pain. "I’m not wearing a bra."

"Mark…" Emily’s voice trailed off. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head in a single pull, revealing her bra.

"What the hell?" Mark couldn’t help his stare. Emily did have cute boobs, even if they were small.

"You’re going to draw attention to yourself if you keep playing with them."

Mark nodded, "Can you put your shirt back on?"

"Last night you wanted to see them." Emily jumped up and down, her boobs responding to the slight bounce despite their small size, "Now you’re all shy?"

"Please stop."

"If you insist." Emily tossed him the bra. "I found this training bra in your sister’s closet. You should wear it."

"No way."

"You’ll thank me later."

"I’ll pass. I have gyno-whatever you called it? Man boobs." Mark shook his head from side to side. "It's extra flesh. You said it was nothing last night." A dream, a bad dream.

"I thought so last night. It looks different in the light of day…" Emily pointed. "Darkening areolas. Protruding nipples. That's not a medical condition, Mark. That's breast buds beginning to progress to actual breast development."

Mark shook his head, "I’m not wearing my sister’s bra."

"You need it. A training bra provide support and warmth If this continues, that will true nipple stage, and it will hurt as it starts rubbing against your shirt." Emily put her arm around Mark’s shoulder. "I can take you to a lingerie store if wearing your sister’s clothes makes you uncomfortable."

"No way. That’d be even worse."

Emily held up the cloth. "I know it’s driving you crazy."

Mark rested his hands on his chest, "How do you know that?"

Emily looked at Mark’s chest then down at her own. "Because I’m a girl. Duh."

"I can’t."

Emily held out the cloth, "Trust me. No one will notice a training bra under a sweatshirt. They will notice if you keep touching yourself." She nodded towards Mark’s hand.

Mark looked down to see he had absentmindedly started to rub himself. He tried to think of a sarcastic comeback, but nothing popped into mind.

"Mark…"

Mark shook his head violently. "I'm serious, Emily. I can’t." He backed away from the bra. "I'm a guy. Guys don't wear bras."

"Guys with breast buds do."

"I'm not growing breasts." Mark said, his voice cracking slightly.

"I didn’t say you had breasts. You have breast buds." Emily's expression softened, but her voice remained firm. "Are you going to keep rubbing your chest? Do you like wincing every time you move? Are you okay if two bumps start pressing out from your t-shirt?"

"I'll wear a compression shirt. Multiple shirts. I don't care." He gestured at the bra with disgust. "I'm not wearing that."

"Compression shirts apply pressure in all the wrong areas." Emily went quiet for a moment. Then, without breaking eye contact, she reached behind her, unhooked her bra, and let it fall to the floor.

Mark's eyes went wide. "What are you…"

"Look at me, Mark." Emily stood topless, her small breasts on full display.

He stared, "I can’t believe you did that."

Emily blushed. "With a bra, you get support and concealment. It's practical, Mark. It's not about girl or boy. It's about giving your body the support it needs."

"I can't..." Mark said, his voice barely above a whisper. "If anyone finds out … if any of the guys see…"

"They won't. It’s just you and me." Emily picked up the training bra and held it out. "No one will know, but I promise it will make you feel better until we figure this out."

Mark stared at the bra like it might attack. Every instinct screamed to run, to deny this was real.

"If anyone finds out," he said slowly, "I'm telling them you forced me."

"I can live with that." Emily smiled. "Now raise your arms."

Mark raised his arms in mock surrender. Emily didn’t respond as she guided the straps over his arms then pulled the cups into place. The sensation was strange, yet somehow comforting.

"How does it feel?" Emily asked, fastening the back.

Mark looked down at the bra now covering his chest. "Like I'm losing my mind."

"That’s fair." Emily adjusted her bra, then pulled on a t-shirt before handing Mark a thick hoodie. "Wear this over it. No one will notice."

Mark put on the hoodie, catching his reflection in the mirror. He saw a guy wearing a hoodie, hiding a bra underneath.

"I hope this traveler woman isn’t full of shit," he said.

"Me too," Emily nodded quietly.

Mark took a final look in the mirror, unsure if anything could be figured out.

Chapter 6

The stores near the traveler's office looked like they went out of business a long time ago. By the looks of the strip mall, Mark doubted any of the remaining tenants were making any money. A cowbell clanged as they opened the door.

Mark whispered under his breath. "Should a clairvoyant need a bell to announce visitors?"

Emily whispered back. "Be nice."

A second later, a beaded curtain opened and a young woman appeared. She had long, red hair flowing down both sides of her face ending in a mess of curls. The hair surrounded a pair of piercing blue eyes that looked alluring and somehow wild. She didn’t look much older than Emily though the woman’s thick makeup made it hard to tell.

"Can I help you?"

The lady spoke with a thick and obviously fake brogue. Every cell of his body told him to run, but Emily spoke first. "Something weird happened to us last night and we thought you might be able to help."

The woman smiled. "Oh yes. I sensed a malpresence as soon as you entered."

Mark looked at Emily. She didn’t look back.

Emily asked, "Do you think you can help us?"

The woman smiled a crooked smile. "Perhaps." She gave a slight wave to beckon them forward. "Follow me."

The woman turned and walked through the beaded curtain and out of sight. Mark tried to grab Emily’s arm to leave, but she’d already disappeared through the beaded door. Seeing no other option, Mark did the same.

The room looked exactly as he expected. In the middle of the room sat a large table with a crystal ball at its center. The woman had already taken a seat in the furthest chair, the one facing the doorway. For a moment her attention was focused on an overflowing ashtray where she retrieved a smoldering cigarette she’d left behind and took two quick drags, one after the other.

The woman said, "Who do you think cursed you?"

Emily said, "You think there’s a curse?"

"Perhaps." The tiny woman smiled as she leaned back into her large leather chair and took another long drag from her cigarette.

She continued, "These will help me determine what’s going on."

She placed a deck of cards on the table then leaned forward, her dress revealing a disturbing amount of cleavage, drawing Mark’s stare.

The woman’s outfit didn’t look like something you’d normally see someone wear on a Sunday morning. It looked more like something you’d see in a bar on a Saturday night. Mark’s eyes followed the curved line on her chest and followed them until it disappeared into her chest. His eyes fixed on the cloth’s struggle to restrain her ample flesh.

"Mark?"

"Yes?"

Emily shot him a look, "The lady asked you a question."

Mark faked a yawn. "Sorry, I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night."

The woman smiled, "I asked if you have any idea who cursed you?"

Mark shook his head. "Curses aren’t real."

The woman’s face curled into a wicked looking smile. "I assure you curses are quite real." She put a hand on the deck pulling out three cards, one after the other. "The Fool. Reversed Death. The Empress." Once she finished, the woman looked at the cards with a raised eyebrow. "That’s interesting…"

Emily said, "What’s interesting?"

"I feel great power upon you." The woman focused on Emily.

Emily said, "I’m not cursed. Mark is the one who’s cursed."

The woman turned in her chair to speak to Mark. "Of course he is … I understand … but the link between you is strong. Very strong."

Mark smiled. Coming here was a complete waste of time. He tried to stand, but a wave of nausea forced him back in the chair.

"Mark? Are you okay?" Emily’s voice sounded distant.

"I think so."

The woman spoke with a mysterious voice. "Powerful forces work within you both. The cards claim you have been challenged, and this challenge will not end until you complete the quest. The cards I drew tell me you hesitate to begin your journey."

Mark smiled, he knew how these charlatans worked. They made a series of generalized statements that could pertain to anyone with an ultimate goal to separate a fool from their money.

The woman smiled at Mark. "I feel your negative energy. It’s as if these changes are being forced upon you."

A lucky guess. Anyone could…

Mark watched the woman’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she spoke with a disembodied voice. "The geas inside is growing, and its power will continue unabated if you do nothing. You must respond or lose yourself forever."

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. Warmth embraced him as the woman’s eyes grew dim. She grabbed the table to steady herself.

"Sorry." The woman took another drag of her cigarette, "That was intense."

Emily asked, "What was intense?"

"The curse." The woman’s eyes never left Mark. She held out her hand. "Do you know of anyone who might want to cause you harm?" Mark noticed her hands had begun to shake.

Emily chuckled. "Uhhh … everyone in town?"

The woman laughed, "The whole town??? And you accuse me of telling tales…"

The woman stared so intensely Mark felt fear enter his body. As he took her hand, his hands began to shake. "I … uhh … dropped a ball. It cost the high school football team a game."

The woman looked at the cards, "You claim the whole town hates you for dropping a ball?"

Emily nodded, "The people in this town take football very seriously."

Mark nodded, "I can show you my social media page."

The woman smiled, her brogue sounding deeper. "What happened when you dropped this football?"

"I landed on the ground." Mark said, "I felt the stadium’s hatred wash over me."

"You felt the hatred?" The woman pursed her lips, "Interesting..."

"It took me a few seconds to stand …"

"More like twenty." Emily interjected. Mark turned to give her a withering stare. Emily raised her hands. "Sorry … I thought you were injured."

Mark continued, "… I tried to run, but my legs wouldn’t respond. The crowd continued to yell as I left the field."

"You say everyone in the stadium focused their emotions on you all at the same time?" The woman gave a thoughtful look. "I suppose it’s possible…"

She opened a book and then went to another. Her lips moved as she looked at passages after passage as Emily squeezed his hand. Then the woman looked up.

"I have heard of instances where a group of people gathered all their latent energy and cast a spell without any training. The emotions for such a thing to happen would need to be very intense."

"Emotions were intense." Emily interrupted, "The crowd didn’t hold back … Butterfingers … Stonehands … Fucking bastard … Son of a bitch … Cocksucker … Those are the names I heard off the top of my head."

"Thanks, Emily." Mark stared at his girlfriend. "I think she gets the picture."

Emily smiled. "I’m here to help."

The woman looked at Mark, "What has this curse done to you?"

"I’m not cursed…" Mark shook his head. "I’m not having any effects."

Emily squeezed his hand. "Mark… you need to tell her."

Mark didn’t look at Emily. "I feel different. Off. It’s hard to explain."

The woman nodded, "I see."

Emily spoke up. "He’s growing breasts."

"Emily!"

When Mark looked at Emily didn’t look a bit repentant. "She needed to know."

The woman looked at Emily and then to Mark. "Is this true?"

Mark nodded.

The lady smashed another spent cigarette in the ashtray on top of the others. "Is there anything else?"Anything specific? You need to tell me the truth if you want my help."

Mark took a deep breath. "I remember a voice. It sounded weird." Mark repeated the words. "It said - ‘Curse you #13. Next game you’ll be wearing a dress.’"

"A dress?" The woman’s eyes grew bright. "Those exact words? Are you sure?"

Mark nodded. "Of course I remember. When I was leaving the field, the crowd got all quiet and I heard one voice speaking to me as easy as clear as I’m hearing you now."

"Do you have an urge to wear a dress?"

"No." Mark responded with a little more force than he intended. "Why would I want that?"

"It’s only a question. No need to get upset." The woman gave Mark a knowing grin, "So you don’t want to wear a dress. You feel … off."

"Yeah. I’ve felt a little weird ever since I dropped the ball." Mark didn’t dare look down.

The woman nodded, "So a crowd screamed at you but you only heard a single voice because you felt off?"

Mark felt a chill run up his spine. If this traveller was a fraud, she was a very talented one. "This is silly." He pointed around the room. "You’re trying to scare me."

The woman stood, her green eyes piercing the darkness of the room and looked down at the table. "The cards have spoken. The Joker has hidden in the shadows, and now must travel in the light. You must kill the Joker, so the Empress can complete her mission."

Mark shook his head. "What are you babbling about? Jokers and Empresses?"

The woman pointed, "Don’t you see? The voice you heard in the crowd is the Joker, and I am the Empress. All I need to do is to find the proper counter-spell." The woman smiled, "It shouldn’t take long to find the cure."

The cure. Of course. Mark’s skepticism returned in full force. In a few minutes this woman would produce a remedy at the low, low price of $1000.

The woman didn’t speak, grabbing book after book, taking her time as she read each one. It took her fifteen minutes to find what she wanted.

"Yes. Yes. I’m sure this will work."

Mark tried to pull his hands away, but the woman was stronger than she appeared. A warm feeling transferred between them, another of her tricks, no doubt. The hair on Mark’s arms stood on end as she moved closer. She continued moving forward until her face was only an inch away from Mark’s forehead.

"You are cursed Mark, but I can break the bond. Do you want my help?"

Mark shrugged.

Emily answered for him. "Of course he does. That’s why we’re here."

The woman shook her head. "The request must come from Mark. He needs to open himself up to allow me to help."

Mark wanted to scream, but the words wouldn’t come. He wanted to run, but his legs felt like jelly.

He sensed this woman was scamming him, but that didn’t explain why many of her words rang true. Perhaps she’d seen the tiny little lumps on his chest. Or perhaps, as crazy as it seemed, she was for real.

Only one thing mattered. They had a big game on Friday, and he certainly couldn’t go into the locker room with breasts. He’d be an idiot to turn away a potential solution, even a foolhardy one.

Mark said, "Yes. I want your help."

The woman didn’t hesitate.

She spoke in a language Mark didn’t understand. He thought for a moment about asking their meaning, but grew concerned as his body grew warm. The warmth grew until it became hot, and hotter still until Mark thought he might burst into flame. He tried to shout, but his lips wouldn’t move. He sat helpless until the woman placed both hands on top of his head, then leaned forward to kiss his forehead.

His vision blurred in the heat. The only thing Mark could see was an indistinct face and a mass of cute, red hair. A thousand feelings hit him at once. Flames followed distorted pain, contrasting with a chill that sunk to his core. The heat and the cold ripped into him from head to toe in that instant. The cold felt nice. Mark fell into it as he drifted into a deep sleep.

Chapter 7

Mark couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t open his eyes. He could hear Emily’s voice but had trouble making out the words until they came into focus.

"Are you sure he’s okay?"

"He’s fine." A raspy voice replied. "The curse was stronger than I expected, too strong for me. I’m calling in an expert. In the meantime, Mark needs to rest. It may take a while before he’s conscious. Make sure he gets lots to drink, but don’t let him eat anything. He’s going to feel nauseous for a while, and anything solid that goes down is bound to come right back up."

Mark tried to open his eyes but nothing happened.

Mark felt something underneath him and then being lifted. A rush of air escaped his lungs when his body landed on the back seat.

Emily asked, "What should I do?"

"Be there for him. He’s going to need your help while we figure this out."

The sound of a car engine. The vibrations started when the car began to move. A wave of nausea hit him when the car pitched in the opposite direction and Mark’s world went black.

The rush of autumn breeze felt good on his skin.

"Are you awake, Mark?" It was Emily’s voice. Closer now. Something cold touched his arm.

"I picked up a strawberry milkshake from Burger Hut. Can you drink?"

Mark tried to answer. His lips twitched, but no sound came out.

"Thank god … at least you’re moving." Emily climbed on top of him. "We’re parked outside your house, but you’re too heavy for me to carry. I need you to stand."

He felt a plastic straw press against his lips. He tried to suck, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate.

"Damn it, Mark. Why won’t you move? Fiona said your body needs liquids." Emily’s voice cracked. Mark thought he heard tears.

"You can do this … you can do this … you can do this…"

Warm lips touched his own.

The kiss was gentle at first, then deeper. Cold liquid passed from Emily’s mouth to his. Mark swallowed on instinct, the cold milkshake traveling down his throat until it merged with the heat emanating from his chest. His fingers twitched.

Emily pulled back. "Mark?"

He coughed once. Then two more times. His voice came out hoarse and strange. "What happened?"

"You’re in the back seat of my car."

"Nice…"

"Shut up, you idiot." Emily smacked his arm but in a playful way. "You scared the hell out of me."

Mark forced his eyes open. It took a couple of seconds for Emily’s face to focus. He saw bloodshot eyes and a tear-stained face.

Emily smacked him again. "You really scared me." Then she pulled him into a big hug.

"What happened?" Mark’s voice almost sounded normal.

Emily’s face darkened. "The spell worked… sort of."

Mark tried to sit up. His arms barely moved, but he managed to wedge himself up on one elbow. "What does that mean?"

"Drink more milkshake. Fiona said you need to build up your strength."

Mark nodded and took a long pull from the straw. The cold liquid rushed to his head. "I liked the other method of drinking a milkshake."

Emily blushed, "That’s not a good idea."

Mark took three big gulps speaking again. "Why not?"

"Feel this." Emily took his hand and placed it on the left side of his chest. A tiny lump pressed out from under his nipple. It was soft. Unmistakable.

"I thought you said the spell worked?" Mark's voice rose a few octaves.

"The spell didn’t work as expected." Emily’s face was pale. "You still have the breast buds."

"Obviously! How the hell can I go to school with these?" Mark tried to clench his fist in anger but only managed to squeeze his own chest. The pressure sent a shockwave down his spine, part pain, part something else. The feeling even tickled his toes. Mark tried to wiggle his toes but couldn’t as the feeling moved up and down the length of his body, first cold, then hot, then cold again.

"Fuck, that felt weird." It also felt amazing.

Emily asked, "What felt weird?"

A surge of panic gripped him. "I can’t move."

"Fiona said it would take time." Emily gave him another milkshake kiss. Mark swallowed easier this time. He tried to lift his arm but nothing happened.

"Why can’t I move?" His breathing quickened.

Emily shook her head. "You need time to regain your strength."

"We don’t have time." Mark’s mind raced. "My parents will be home soon."

Emily fed him more milkshake, "What do you want to do?"

Mark hungered for Emily’s touch. "Kiss me."

Emily pulled back. "That’s not a good idea. Remember how you changed in the park?"

Mark’s temper snapped. "Goddammit, Emily…"

"Are you sure?"

"I’m sure."

Emily leaned down, lifting Mark’s hands and grasping them in her own. "Do you feel anything?"

Mark shook his head. "Squeeze harder."

Emily tightened her grip. "Is it working?"

Mark tried wiggling his fingers. They barely moved. "I don’t feel anything." He met her eyes. "Kiss me and don’t let go of my hands."

Emily hesitated a moment then placed their interlocked hands on Mark’s chest and leaned forward until their lips touched.

The effect was immediate. A torrent of energy flowed forth, rushing from Emily into him, filling every nerve, every muscle, every cell. Mark basked in the incredible feeling as his girlfriend’s eyes grew vacant.

"Emily?"

She didn’t answer but continued, each kiss tasting sweeter than honey and every touch softer than silk. The feeling grew more intense every second, as sparks of electricity arced between them.

Mark gathered all his strength in desperation, then pushed as hard as he could. Emily tumbled off him and onto the car’s floor.

"Emily?"

She blinked once, then twice as color slowly returned to her face.

"Did it work?"

"Yeah." Mark lifted his arms and wiggled his fingers. He started to sit up.

"Wait!"

Mark gave her a queer look, "Why?"

"Wait!" Emily spoke with heightened intensity. "I need to tell you about the changes."

"Changes?" Mark grabbed his chest to recheck, breathing a sigh of relief when he found the area much the same as when they’d left the house.

"It’s not that." Emily stared into Mark's eyes, then her gaze drifted higher still.

Mark felt with a hand finding long strands of hair framing both sides of his face.

"Oh … fuck me."

"Your hair changed in Fiona’s shop."

Mark ran his fingers through his hair. Soft, silky, definitely not his hair. He looked down at his hands. They were smaller. Thinner. The fingers were more delicate with fingernails that had grown past the tips. Mark turned his hands over and then back again. They looked like a girl's hands.

"How do I catch passes with these? They’re so small."

"They aren’t that small." Emily held her hand up the Mark’s. His hand was bigger, but not by much.

"I can’t go to school like this." Mark shook his head causing red hair to fly everywhere.

"Don’t worry." Emily opened the car door. "Fiona and I have a plan."

Chapter 8

The house felt wrong though Mark couldn’t explain the difference. Everything looked the same but even climbing the stairs felt different. Nothing in his body moved the way it should.

As he entered his room, his hand brushed through his hair without a thought. It felt soft and way too long. His Dad was going to freak.

Emily whispered. "Don’t look in the mirror."

"Why?"

Emily said, "Trust me."

Overwhelming curiosity forced Mark to look. His bedroom mirror wasn’t large, and the lighting was terrible, but the red hair shone through the darkness. Mark reached up to touch his hair and in the mirror he saw what looked like a strange girl doing the same. The strands were at least five inches long, a feminine cut on all sides.

"What the hell?"

"Don’t worry." Emily held up a bag from a beauty supply store, "I’ve got this."

"I’m not sure if I trust your ideas." Mark objected. "You were the one who suggested we see that Fiona lady."

"Hey! Fiona helped … some." Emily shrugged. "At least we know you’ve been cursed."

Mark shook his head, causing the hair to fly in all directions. "Some help." Despite his anger, Mark did his best to smile. The last thing he needed was to take it out on Emily.

"You don’t trust me?" Emily held up a pair of scissors.

"I trust you." Mark grabbed at his hair. "But uhh … have you cut hair before?"

"Trims mostly." Emily said, "But guy haircuts aren’t complicated."

Mark shook his head and again felt the red strands flying in every direction. He hated how much he enjoyed the swish. It was everything he’d always imagined.

Mark and his father had gone to the same barber since Mark was a child. The man always gave the same cut - short on the sides and parted on the left. The entire process never took more than five minutes. He’d have Pedro cut his hair now if he wasn’t sure the old man would collapse on the spot if Mark showed up looking like this.

"You’re right. Guy’s cuts aren’t complicated." Mark said.

"You ready?"

Mark nodded. "I suppose."

"Great." Emily grabbed his arm and pulled towards the bathroom. "We need to do it in here. I need better lighting…" She paused at the door. "… but prepare yourself … seeing the mirror might be a bit of a shock."

"I already peeked …"

Mark’s words stopped as he walked into the room. Emily was right. He wasn’t prepared. This mirror was much larger with better lighting.
Mark had always looked younger than the other guys his age. He had fair skin, deep set eyes, and a complete lack of blemishes that plagued other boys. Adding shoulder-length red hair to that face … the result was unsettling.

"I look like a girl."

Emily tilted her head to give him a quick once over. "I wouldn’t go that far."

She pulled the shower curtain from its rod and spread it across the bathroom floor, then disappeared out the door returning a few seconds with Mark’s desk chair. "Sit."

Mark sat, the mass of hair bouncing against his shoulders as he complied. Emily wrapped a towel around his shoulders, then sprayed so much water on Mark’s hair that droplets of water ran down his neck.

"The water is cold."

Emily didn’t answer, instead pulling a comb through Mark’s hair again and again until every strand had been tamed. Then she squirted his hair again.

Mark watched Emily navigate the tangled strands, "What happened after I passed out?"

Emily paused. "It’s hard to describe. I remember you and Fiona sitting at the table, and I watched as she put her hand on your head. Then nothing."

Mark looked at himself in the mirror. "Something definitely happened."

Emily locked eyes with Mark in the mirror. "I mean … yeah … something happened, but all I remember is a bright flash, like a hundred cameras going off all at once."

"Yeah?"

"I passed out. At least I think I passed out. Whatever happened knocked me senseless and when the stars cleared I found you and Fiona laying on the floor."

Mark stared at the results in the mirror. "Damn."

Emily lifted a section of his hair and held up the scissors. "You ready?"

Mark looked at the scissors.

Emily said, "Last chance."

"For what?"

"To back out."

Mark looked in the mirror. He stared at the beautiful locks of long red hair and a face he barely recognized. He couldn’t go to school looking like this.

"I don’t have a choice."

"Here we go…" Emily didn’t hesitate. Several inches of hair fell to the shower curtain.

Another cut followed. And another. And another. Mark watched all of them fall, each cut making him feel a little more like himself. It wasn’t long until there was more hair on the floor than on his head.

"How’d you learn to cut hair?"

"Online. I watched a guy who had a series of six videos."

Mark asked, "Only six?"

"Maybe it was eight."

"That’s not comforting."

Emily ignored him. "The guy said the trick is to keep everything even."

Mark’s eyes narrowed. "You aren’t giving me a bowl cut are you?"

Emily raised her scissors, "Continue to doubt me and there’s no telling what kind of cut you might get."

Mark looked at the scissors. "Those look fancy. Did you buy them?"

"You were out in my backseat for quite a while. I stopped at a few places." She reached into a bag and pulled out a box. "I bought this too."

Mark squinted, "Hair dye?"

"We need to color your hair unless you want to go to school as a redhead."

"Good point." Mark stared, "Why is there a picture of a girl on the box?"

Emily sighed, "All hair dyes work on the same principles. The guy’s section had three colors. There’s a hundred different boxes for girls. I showed a lady in the beauty supply place your picture, and she sold me this. She said it should be close though we may need to do it a few times to get a good match. That’s why I’m using hair coloring instead of dye. It’s not as harsh on your hair."

Mark said, "You know a lot about girly stuff."

"I’m a girl."

"Not like other girls."

Emily stopped cutting. "Seriously?"

Shit. He’d done it again. Mark looked at the sharp scissors in Emily’s hand. "I didn’t mean anything."

"Yes, you did." Emily moved her hands to her sides.

Shit. Shit. "Well … uhhh …" Mark’s mind raced. "I mean … not normally … I like how you looked nice last night."

"And?" Emily’s face didn’t betray her thoughts.

Nervous laughter echoed from Mark’s lips, but Emily didn’t smile. "That’s not how you normally dress."

Emily scoffed, "Is that what you want? You want me to show up to school every day in a slutty little outfit and over-the-top makeup like a proper football player’s girl."

"I didn’t say that." Mark said, "I certainly didn’t mean that."

"Then what?"

Mark sighed. "I don’t know. Most of my memories with you are from when we were kids and now we’re dating. It feels weird and it’s hard to explain. I know I like you, and hope you know I genuinely don’t care what you wear. I know I say a lot of dumb things, and I know you’ve been very patient with me. But it would be a lie to say I didn’t like it when my teammates stared at you last night. I enjoyed their jealousy stares and if that makes me a bad person … well … I guess I’m a bad person."

Emily’s eyes glistened for a few seconds before she raised her scissors. "Nice save." Soon, more hair joined the rest on the floor.

Mark hoped it was safe to change the subject, "Do you think my roots will regrow red or brown?"

"I have no idea. Maybe brown…" Emily shrugged, "… probably red."

Mark stared at his hair. It was the same color as Fiona’s, "Did Fiona tell you anything useful?"

"Some."

"And?"

Emily made a few final cuts before giving her creation a nod, "It’s a lot. Are you sure?"

"Emily…"

The shears began to buzz. "And do you remember when she said reversing the crowd’s spell might be easy?"

"Yeah."

"She doesn’t think that now."

The knot in Mark’s stomach twisted. "Why?"

"When Fiona tried to reverse the spell, the feedback was so strong it rebounded to your body and changed every strand of hair on your head."

"That’s bad?"

"It shouldn’t be possible according to Fiona."

Mark buried his face in his hands, "Fan-fricking-tastic."

"It could be worse."

"I don’t see how." Mark looked in the mirror. "I can’t go to school looking like this."

"You can’t skip school." Emily reminded him. "If they catch you, you’ll be ineligible to play on Friday."

Mark looked at his hands, "I’m not sure if I can play anyway. I’ve got smaller hands, long hair, and I’m growing tits. People will notice."

"No one will notice."

"You don’t know that."

Emily reiterated, "Trust me. No one will notice. I barely notice and I know the truth."

Mark turned to the side as he looked in the mirror and didn’t see much of a difference. Most of the guys on the team had bigger pecs. He touched the bra, glad the cloth pulled the area taut.

"I need to cut my nails."

Emily pulled a pair of nail clippers from her pocket. "Way ahead of you. Do you want me to do it?"

"I can cut my own nails."

Mark held out his hand. The nails reminded him of his sister Missy. They’d been close as kids, playing all sorts of games. One of the last games they ever played was a game Missy called Beauty Salon. Grandma had given Missy her first makeup kit, and they spent an entire summer afternoon experimenting. He painted her nails cherry red. She painted his nails berry blue. Dad wasn’t happy when he got home.

Clip.

His current nails weren’t long, but Mark learned a long time ago to cut them to the quick during football season. Some people might think fingernails might help grip a ball better, but years of practice had taught the fleshy part of the finger pad was the most important part to catch a pass. Fingernails got in the way.

Clip. Clip.

Emily made some final cuts. "I got the feeling Fiona doesn’t have a lot of experience with curses. She’s calling someone she says can help. They’ll be in town tomorrow."

Mark said, "Tomorrow? I need them here today." He looked at his trimmed fingers. They looked more normal but still smaller.

Emily said, "That’s why I’m playing barber." She pointed at the mirror with the clippers. "What do you think?"

Mark ran a hand through now much shorter hair. It looked darker wet, so the color difference wasn’t so drastic. He had to admit Emily’s haircut didn’t look bad.

Emily held up a book. "Fiona recommended this book if you have questions."

Mark saw the title, ‘Spells and Incantations – A beginner’s primer’.

"What’s this?"

Emily shrugged. "Isn’t the title self-explanatory?"

Mark looked at the piles of hair now covering the shower curtain. "Fiona gave you a spell book?"

"No." Emily shook her head. "She sold me a book about magic."

"Of course she did." Mark smiled. At least he’d gotten one thing right. Fiona had succeeded in selling them something. A look in the mirror might prove magic was real, but Mark doubted it was something so simple you could learn in a book.

Emily held up the box of hair color. "Are you ready for the next part?"

Mark sighed, "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Emily called from the window. "They’re here."

Mark looked outside and saw the car enter the driveway. It didn’t take long for his Mom’s shout to call from downstairs. "We’re home!"

Mark shouted back down the stairs., "I’m in my room."

Emily had spent the better part of an hour cutting his hair. And another with the dye. It took two attempts to get the color close. Cleaning up took even more time. Thankfully, his parents were gone later than expected.

His Dad called back. "Come downstairs and help your mother with her suitcase."

Mark gave Emily a pained look. She smiled back.

"Your hair looks good. They might not notice."

Mark nodded. Better to test this on his parents than with kids at school. Mark took the stairs one at a time, hoping the baggy sweatshirt would do its job.

His mother passed him without noticing, "My bags are in the trunk of the car." She’d almost made it to the kitchen when she turned and gave Mark another look.

Mark stopped, afraid to take another step.

His Mom gave him a smile. "Did you do something with your hair?"

"I … uhh … Emily cut it. She’s upstairs."

His Mom stared and nodded, "Tell her she did a nice job. Your hair looks much better than it does when you go to that silly barber your Dad likes."

His Dad entered the room carrying two huge suitcases. "I heard that. Don’t you dare talk bad about Pedro. That man is an artist."

His Mom answered, "The man is a butcher. You know I hate the way he cuts your hair."

Mark held his breath as his Dad started up the stairs. His Dad waited until his wife was safely in the kitchen before turning with a thin smile on his lips, "Did I hear right? Emily’s in your bedroom?"

Mark nodded.

His Dad whispered under his breath. "Did she stay the night?"

Mark felt his face growing red. "Yeah, Dad." He’d never been good at lying.

"Please tell me you used protection." His Dad gave him a knowing smile.

"Dad!"

"I’m just saying…" His Dad’s smile grew bigger, "… I’m too young to be a grandpa."

Mark tried to think of any way out of this embarrassing conversation, but his Dad had already turned towards his bedroom.

"Don’t just stand there, son. Go get your mother’s luggage." A belated shout came from inside his parent’s bedroom. "And try not to drop the bag like you did that football."

Mark shook his head. It was wishful thinking to expect the man had forgotten about Friday night.

"Yes, Father."

Chapter 9

"Uhh … Mark?" Emily called from the other side of the room. She sat at his desk and had spent the last hour tapping on his computer keyboard.

"Yeah?"

His Mom insisted Emily stay for dinner, but neither of them had much of an appetite. Mark noticed the grin on his father’s face as he and Emily hurried upstairs. The man’s wink completed Mark’s embarrassment.

While Emily worked at his desk, Mark had spent the last hour on his bed, reading a magic book that before today he would have mocked if anyone asked him to read. He’d nearly finished the first chapter and hadn’t found a single piece of useful information.

Emily broke the silence. "Fiona told me something else. I’m not sure you want to hear it."

Mark said, "Spill it."

"Well … uhh… I wanted to tell you earlier, but so much happened today I was worried you might freak out even more."

That didn’t sound good. "I’ll freak out if you don’t tell me."

Emily hesitated, "Do you promise not to get mad?"

Mark sighed, "I promise."

"I … uhh … well…" Emily sounded nervous. "Do you remember when I told you the curse defended itself when Fiona touched you?"

"Yeah?"

"That’s not exactly what happened."

"Em-i-ly… you’ve got to be honest with me."

"You said you wouldn’t get mad." Emily looked away, arms crossing over her chest.

Mark sat up in bed. "Tell me."

Emily nodded before taking a deep breath. "Fiona explained she thinks the curse is absorbing feminine energy and that energy is what’s changing you. She said when you touched her hair, you literally drained her dry."

"Yeah? We knew something was happening when we touched."

"Touching me is why you started growing …" Emily lay a hand on her chest. "… you know."

"My hair changed when I touched Fiona’s hair." Mark thought back to the dance. "I never touched your chest."

"You pressed against my chest."

"You noticed that?"

Emily gave an annoyed sigh, "Really?"

Thoughts of the dance floor returned. One hand holding Emily’s, the other on the small of her back. Him pressing against Emily’s chest and a feeling he couldn’t control.

"You looked amazing."

"Thanks, perv." Emily smiled, "But that’s the problem. The more you and I touch, the more you’ll change."

"Oh? I hadn’t thought about that." It had taken him a month of awkward conversations and nervous dates to get Emily to his bedroom. Now she was saying he couldn’t touch her.

"You changed a few times in the back seat of my car." Emily’s face turned white. "I didn’t know what else to do. Fiona said you needed energy so I gave you some of mine."

Mark smiled, "I remember the kisses."

"That’s when the first change happened." Emily blushed. "Your face changed the first time I kissed you."

"My face?"

"I think your voice changed the second time."

"My voice???" Mark asked, his voice catching at a slightly higher pitch than before.

"It’s barely noticeable." Emily insisted, "You didn’t notice and neither did your parents."

"You should have told me."

Mark stood and walked across the room, purposely avoiding Emily's stare. He didn't see a change in his face, but he'd never spent much time staring at himself. He lowered his voice to a low register. "Is that all?"

"Your hands changed when we kissed the third time."

"Don’t remind me." Mark looked at his slender hands. "Did anything else change?"

"I didn’t look everywhere …" Emily blushed. "It wouldn’t have mattered if I did."

Of course. Mark nodded. Emily had never seen him naked so she had no basis for comparison.

"You didn’t look?"

Emily shook her head. "Fiona wanted me to check to be sure, but I refused."

Emily looked like she might start crying, and a crying girlfriend was the last thing Mark needed. "I appreciate you respecting my privacy."

Emily nodded, "You did a number on Fiona. I thought I was going to need to call an ambulance. She was out for at least fifteen minutes, and she wasn’t in great shape when I left."

Mark shrugged, "She wasn’t in the best shape when we arrived. Did you notice her outfit?"

"I saw you checking her out." Emily teased, "Skimpy outfit and reeking of alcohol and sex. Is that how you like your women?"

Mark replied with a mocking tone. "I only have eyes for you, dear." His mind recalled every curve of Fiona’s outfit.

"Uh huh." Emily said with a dismissive glare. "Fiona explained the curse has increased your desires so I’ll pretend not to be offended. So no more touching?"

"No more touching." Mark said, "We can make it until this expert figures everything out."

Emily looked embarrassed. "Is it bad I want to kiss you right now?"

"I want to kiss you too." Mark tried not to think about it. She wasn’t kidding about the power of the curse. He could feel Emily’s body calling to him from the other side of the room.

"Dad was happy to hear you spent the night."

Emily said, "You told him I slept here?"

"He asked. I’m a terrible liar." Mark said, "He assumes we had sex."

Emily frowned, "Typical."

"He asked if we used protection."

"Oh god. I think that little piece of embarrassment is my cue to leave." Emily closed up the computer. "I’m sure Mom is wondering what happened to me today."

Mark watched as Emily packed her things, then moved to the doorway before turning around, her posture clearly showing her uncertainty.

Mark held his hand up and gave a shy sort of wave.

Emily smiled as she waved back.

Mark called after her, "I appreciate your help, Em. I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t here."

"No problem."

Mark slammed the snooze button and rolled over with a groan. He hadn't slept more than an hour all night. He repeated two dreams every time he closed his eyes. In the first, he watched a football hit his hand and bounce off. In the other, he watched a mirror as his hair got longer and his chest got bigger. By the end, he looked more like his sister Missy than himself.

Mark jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.

His face looked the same. Emily's haircut held up nicely. Better, in fact. But face and hair weren't the worry.

Most guys his age were oblivious to the world around them. The one thing they did notice was breasts. Their monkey brains were attuned to even small changes in that area. Mark turned to the side and didn't see much. The flesh-colored bra slid easily over his shoulders. The material felt nice on his skin. Add a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans and no one would be the wiser.

He had to admit, Emily had done a nice job making him presentable for school.

Mark was still staring at his reflection when he shuffled over for his usual first-thing-in-the-morning appointment with the toilet. His boxers hit the floor. He didn't even register the strange angle until it was too late. A look showed his normally true aim had changed along with a reduction in gauge. Urine sprayed across the back of the seat.

"You’ve got to be fucking kidding me."

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