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 1

Ten sets of eyes stared at the quarterback as he made the call. "Pro set. 32 Dive. X52 Sluggo on 1."

Surprise echoed through the huddle when he finished. Mark wanted to say something but knew it would only make things worse. At least his friend sounded confident.

Jeffrey flashed an arrogant grin, "We got this. Everyone ready?"

They did their best to mirror their quarterback’s enthusiasm. Each member of the team placed their right hand in the middle of the huddle, one on top of the other, "Ready."

Jeffrey looked at each face, then gave Mark a wink as he placed his hand on top.

"Ready. Break."

The team ran out of the huddle. A roar rose from the home crowd.

Mark had been in thousands of team huddles over the years but never one like this. Stanton High had won every game so far and a win tonight would clinch the school’s first conference championship in six years. He jogged towards his spot on the right hash. The sideline marker showed 4th and 2.

The defender said something as Mark lined up but he wasn’t listening. The guy had been a cocky little shit all game, but aggression could be a weakness. Mark glanced towards the center of the field, making sure he wasn’t lined up offsides. In the distance, he could see thousands of fans standing on the bleachers shouting their encouragement. Every teacher, every neighbor, every student Mark knew watched as both teams went through their pre-snap reads. Jeffrey didn’t dare return Mark’s look. Surprise was the key. They’d practiced this a thousand times.

Jeffrey shouted the signals, "Red 32. Red 32. Set. Hut."

Both teams exploded out of their stances at the snap. Mark did the same. Everyone in the stadium expected a run. On Mark’s third step, he knew Jeffrey would be planting the ruse, carefully pressing the football against the running back’s stomach.

Mark faked a block against the cornerback before darting towards the middle of the field, seeing the sudden fear in the defender’s eyes as Jeffrey pulled the ball away from the running back’s grasp.

Mark made a clean cut. All three linebackers had charged the line to tackle the running back leaving a massive opening in the middle of the field.

A throw now, a simple pass and catch, and they’d have an easy first down. But the coach hadn’t called a Slant. He’d called a Sluggo.

A Sluggo route, short for Slant and Go, was all about timing, and it only worked when quarterback and receiver were in complete sync. Mark didn’t bother looking at Jeffrey. His eyes were on the defender, waiting for his hips to turn to the inside.

The defender turned. Mark planted his left foot, grinning slightly when he saw the defender fall as he tried to reverse course. A look back showed Jeffrey had already thrown the ball, a lob pass, the easiest kind to catch.

Kids grow up dreaming about moments like this. Every second seemed like an eternity as the ball floated towards Mark’s hands. It should have been an easy catch. He’d made a half-dozen harder catches already tonight.

His hands slapped together like two slabs of granite. The ball hit careened high into the air.

Mark watched helplessly as his team’s dreams fell with it. He leaped in desperation, hoping to stave off his error, but could only watch as the ball hit the ground a few yards away. Mark hit the turf a second later, his entire body gone limp at the enormity of what happened. A loud groan rose from the hometown bleachers then the stadium grew eerily quiet.

A game official confirmed the play’s result. "Turnover on downs. First Down. Rockford."

Mark lay frozen, praying the turf might swallow him whole. By the time his legs found the strength to stand, he saw his teammates had already vacated the field. He tried to jog to join them, but the hard landing forced a walk allowing the entire town to vent their anger at the would-be hero turned goat.

One heckler’s voice stood out over the others. "Curse you #13. Next game, you’ll be wearing a dress."

Chapter 2

The walk to the locker room felt endless. Mark didn’t see his Dad as he passed the mass of hometown fans. He heard their shouts but his ears were in no mood to listen.

Everything went quiet when the locker room door closed. Too quiet. Mark stood in a corner and waited as the coaches filed in. No need to call attention to himself.

"This was a tough one but keep your heads up. We win as a team, and we lose as a team and we can still win the championship with a victory next week. Now hit the showers."

Mark was thankful Coach Denny kept his post game speech short. He was more thankful the man didn’t single him out. The looks from his teammates told a different story. He waited in the hall as the others finished their showers.

"Can you believe Lansing dropped that ball? It hit him right in the hands."

"That dude sucks. He wouldn’t be starting if he wasn’t sucking Simmons’ dick."

"Speaking of dicks. Are you seeing Betsy tonight?"

"You know it. She’s out in the hallway right now dreaming about my cock."

"Ha. Ha. Betsy should dream about bigger things."

"Screw you Miller."

Showers after a game rarely last very long. If the running commentary was to be believed, most of them had girls outside, all eager to suck their dicks. It didn’t matter how any of the conversations started, they always drifted to blowjobs.

Mark waited for the shower to clear before entering. Only when the stream of warm water hit him, did Mark allow himself a chance to vent. “Arrrrrrgggghh!”

"Everything okay in here?"

Mark almost fell when he saw his best friend standing in the doorway. "Geeze, Jeffrey. You scared me half to death. I thought you left."

Jeffrey said, "Nah. Coach wanted me to talk to a recruiter from State College."

"State College? That’s big time." Mark looked down. At one point in his football career, he’d dreamed of being recruited by a major school, but those were just dreams. "How’d it go?"

Jeffrey shrugged. "They said they’re waiting until the end of the season before they make a final decision. I think they want to take another look at that QB from Lewiston."

"Shit." Jeffrey had been the top quarterback prospect in the area since their sophomore year. "I’m sorry."

"About what?"

"Dropping that pass. It didn’t help your chances."

Jeffrey smiled, "You need to stop. You caught seven passes tonight."

Mark shrugged, "And no one will remember anything except the one I dropped."

Jeffrey smacked Mark’s backside with a dry towel. "You’re the best receiver on the team. You’ll catch the next one."

Mark jumped as he felt the welt forming on his backside. "Shouldn’t you be getting ready? I heard the Homecoming court is doing last minute prep work tonight. I doubt they can get anything done without their king."

Jeffrey said, "You know I don’t like getting involved in that stuff."

Mark nodded, "Yeah, but Gina does."

Jeffrey looked up at the clock on the wall. "Shit. I wish you hadn’t reminded me."

Mark turned around as his friend began to spread body wash all over his naked body. Most of the girls in the school would pay good money to trade places with him. Jeffrey was a great athlete, very good-looking, an honor roll student, and a nice guy to boot. Mark often wondered why they were still friends.

Jeffery said, "You and Emily should come. Gina would love to have help."

Mark said, "Nah. You know Emily isn’t into that sort of thing."

"Too bad." Jeffrey smiled. "You think you’ll get lucky tonight?"

"Shut up." They both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

"Then come join us. I need you man." Jeffrey gave his most pathetic look. "Don’t abandon me to Gina’s friends. Those girls are going to want to talk about cheerleading shit all night."

"Emily won’t want to listen to that either. She’s not into that girly rah-rah shit."

"Yeah. I know." Jeffrey sighed. "Have I mentioned your girlfriend is a bit of a prude?"

Things like that were easy for Jeffrey to say. If he broke up with a girl, another would appear like magic. Mark on the other hand was happy to find someone willing to go steady. "You’ve mentioned it a couple of times."

"Heh. Heh." Jeffrey said, enjoying the playful banter between two old friends as he dried himself off. Mark tried not to look at his friend who had in recent years had grown from a lanky pre-teen to resemble every bit of a Greek god. Jeffrey added, "For what it is worth, I put in a good word for you with the recruiter. He said if I get a scholarship, he says he’s sure you can get in as a preferred walk-on. We could be roommates and everything."

Jeffrey’s wasn’t being subtle. Bro’s covered each other’s backs. "I’ll try to make it, dude, but you know Emily."

Jeffrey shouted back as he ran down the hall. "I’m counting on you, bro."

Mark looked down and wished it were possible.

Mark checked his phone after he got out of the shower. The posts weren’t unexpected – five new voice mails, two dozen text messages, and over a hundred mentions on social media.

Given some of the comments, Mark expected to find an angry mob when exited the locker room, but only one person remained.

"Everything okay? You were in there for a long time."

Emily stood in the gym hallway next to the weight room door. She didn’t jump into his arms like his teammates claimed happened with their girlfriends. Emily leaned forward and gave him a post-game hug and perfunctory kiss.

Mark said, "Sorry for making you wait."

Their hug lasted longer than normal. The warmth of Emily’s body felt nice in the cold October wind. Mark especially liked feeling her tiny boobs pressing against his chest.

Emily said, "It’s fine."

A look down the hall showed a shadowy figure standing at the other end. Mark said, "We should get out of here before the haters get their pitchforks and torches. Have you seen my mentions on social media?"

"I saw." Emily took his arm and pulled him towards the door. Mark noticed she gripped her purse tighter as they walked to the parking lot. Mark pulled her tight. She smiled back.

It still didn’t seem real that he and Emily were dating. He’d known her almost as long as he'd known Jeffrey. They'd been close as kids when differences between boys and girls didn't matter so much. She'd spent days with them running around the park and nights on the computer grinding levels in Wizards of Lore.

Then puberty hit, and they drifted apart, the way that happens with kids. She started sitting with a different crowd at lunch, and Mark stopped noticing she wasn't around.

So it surprised him when she showed up at his 18th birthday party. It surprised him more when she was still there after everyone else had gone home. The two of them sat on the back porch steps, picking up their friendship like they’d never stopped speaking.

That was over a month ago. They'd been dating ever since, but every time Mark felt them standing at the edge of something new, an old gravity pulled them back toward the friendship they knew by heart.

"I can’t believe I dropped that pass. It was so easy." Mark stared at his hands. "I had the ball right here. We should have won the game."

"Yeah." Emily slipped her arm around Mark’s waist. "I had something similar happen at today’s field hockey game. Yolanda made a perfect pass on a cross and I totally muffed it."

Mark laughed. "Really, Em? That’s not the same thing."

Emily stopped walking. "What do you mean it’s not the same?"

Mark tried to explain. "There was a scout from State College at the game tonight. He spoke to Jeffrey after the game. If I caught that pass, he might have noticed me and…"

Emily's smile disappeared, "We have scouts at our games too. Our field hockey team is good this year. You’d know that if you came to one of our games."

Mark tried again. "It’s not the same Emily. The whole town watched me drop the ball. How many people watched you? A couple dozen?"

Emily’s face darkened, "This town needs to stop putting football players on pedestals."

"It’s not my fault no one wants to watch field hockey." Mark knew he shouldn’t have said the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Emily’s voice rose an octave, "Is that why you don’t come to my games?"

Oh god. Not this again. "I’m sorry. You know Coach keeps us late for football practice."

Emily grew red. "So you’ve said."

They’d had this discussed many times before. Mark tried to change the subject. "Jeffrey wants us to help set up the Homecoming Dance."

"That’s not happening." Emily didn’t look happy as she started poking him in the chest to emphasize each word. "You think you’re going to dump me off for a couple of hours and force me to talk to Gina and her bitchy friends?"

Mark held up his hands to block the blows. "Jeffrey needs me."

"Then maybe you should date him." Emily started to poke Mark again, and he again tried to block it. Emily’s finger came in at full force this time, a solid contact that knocked him back several feet.

Mark rubbed his chest. "Damn it, Emily. That really hurt."

"Yeah, right." Emily crossed her arms. "The whole town knows it isn’t possible for a weak little girl to hurt a big, strong football player."

"Trust me, it hurts." Mark tried to get a read on Emily’s face but her features were hidden in the darkness of the hall. "You know how sore I get after games. You’re not being fair."

"You’re right. I’m sorry." Emily drew closer, her face softening some, "We lost today, I’m pissed, and I’m taking it out on you. Now I’ve got a headache."

Mark wanted to say something but held his tongue. Emily always had a headache. "Do you want me to drive?"

"No." Emily’s fire returned, "No one drives my car but me."

Chapter 3

The phone rang a minute after 8 AM. Mark let it ring and go to voice mail. A few seconds later his phone rang again.

"Dammit." Every muscle in his body hurt, but that wasn’t unusual the morning after a game.

"What do you want?" Mark didn’t need to ask who it was. Only one person would call him this early on a Saturday.

Jeffrey sounded way too chipper. "I’m getting in my car right now. Be ready when I get there." The line went dead a second later.

Mark did quick math in his head. It would take his friend at least eight minutes to get there, and he could get ready in five minutes so that meant he had three minutes of shuteye. Mark laid his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. The horn seemed to sound a second later.

** HONK HONK HONK **

Mark jumped out of bed grabbing underwear, a pair of shorts, socks, and a sweatshirt. He didn’t have time for a shower, so Mark put on his clothes as he ran down the steps then shouted towards the kitchen.

He yelled, "I’m going to the park with Jeffrey."

His Mom shouted from the kitchen, "Don’t you want breakfast?"

Jeffrey stood at the front door holding a cup of coffee and a doughnut.

Mark shouted to the kitchen. "I’m good, Mom. Jeffrey brought breakfast." The two hurried out the door before Mark’s Mom had a chance to respond.

Jeffrey jogged to his car. "Did you fall asleep after you hung up?"

Mark yawned as he took a sip of coffee. "I’m exhausted."

"Late night with Emily?" Jeffrey’s voice sounded almost hopeful, "I mean, that’s the only reason I can think of why you’d abandon your best friend to an evening with a bunch of whiny cheerleaders."

Mark didn’t have the heart to tell him Emily had brought him straight home after the game. "Yeah. That’s it. I banged Emily all night."

Jeffrey’s smile showed he didn’t believe a word. "I know that’s a lie."

It looked like half the town decided to come to the park this morning. Mark couldn’t blame them. An autumn chill clipped the air, but it didn’t matter. In a month it’d be a wintry freeze and they’d dream of days like this. He smiled at the group of kids who’d started a pickup football game near the picnic tables. Six years ago he and Jeffrey had done the same every Saturday morning with kids from the neighborhood. Now it was just the two of them.

Jeffrey said, "Sluggo?"

Mark saw his friend’s smile. "That’s mean."

Jeff said, "Practice makes perfect."

Mark shook his head. "Alright."

Jeffrey set up behind an invisible center. "Blue 42. Blue 42. Set. Hut."

Mark sprinted from the line. Three drive steps … transition to the slant … break for the Go route and then look back. Jeffrey had thrown the ball with a little extra juice this morning, but Mark snatched it easily in stride. It was so easy. If only…

Jeffrey shouted, "And that’s six points for the Beavers." Mark watched his friend jumping up and down as he pretended to be an announcer. Mark listened for a mocking tone, but didn’t hear one.

The first pass had caught the attention of the nearby pickup game. A couple of the younger kids stood and watched Mark and his friend run a few more routes. It was one of the smaller kids who worked up the courage to speak. "Are you Jeffrey Simmons?"

Jeffrey grinned, "Last time I checked."

Another kid kicked at the dirt. "I heard you guys lost last night."

"Yeah." Jeffrey nodded, "We’ll get them next week."

An older boy spoke up. "My Dad said you would have won if your stupid receiver hadn’t dropped a pass."

Jeffrey laughed, "You hear that, Mark?"

Mark smiled at the boy, but the boy didn’t get the joke.

That was one thing he’d always liked about football – football players wore helmets so unless a player got their picture in the paper, you were anonymous. Of course, that wasn’t true of the quarterback. Quarterbacks always got their pictures taken.

Mark couldn’t blame anyone for not realizing he was on the football team. He didn’t have the looks. He wasn’t especially tall. He wasn’t muscular. All he had was his speed and a usually dependable set of hands.

Jeffrey said, "Another Sluggo?"

"Sure." Mark toed the line.

"Blue 42. Blue 42. Set. Hut."

Mark sprinted from the line. Three drive steps … transition to the slant … break for the go route. A look back. The ball was in the air. This one was a floater over his right shoulder, a tough catch, but one they’d practiced hundreds of times. Mark snagged it with ease.

Jeffrey said, "Nice catch #13."

Mark tossed the ball back and saw the kid looked a little embarrassed. Had he figured it out?

Jeffrey said, "Practice the tree?"

Mark nodded. "Yeah. Sure"

Jeffrey would never admit it, but he loved the attention. His friend always played better when people were watching and decided to give the boys a show. "Power Left. 594 Pro. Set. Hut."

Jeffrey loved to try to trick Mark. Power Left 594 Pro. Each word of the playcall was designated to note a slight variation for every player on the field. For Mark, this call meant he had to run a curl route. It took Mark two steps before he’d confirmed the call in his brain. Calling out plays on the line and running them a second later gave the players little time to think. It was Coach Denny’s philosophy that they all know the playbook like a second language. No thinking, only action.

Eight steps then a quick turn inside. The ball left Jeffrey’s hand early so it was there when Mark turned. He tried to get his hands up, but the ball bounced hard off his chest.

The ball hit so hard, it bent back two of his fingers. "Goddammit Jeffrey." Now both his hands and his chest hurt.
Mark could hear the kids snickering in the distance.

Jeffrey asked, "You okay?"

"Just a bit sore from the game." Mark rubbed his chest. It had been sore when he woke and Jeffrey hit the same spot where Emily had punched him.

Jeffrey said, "Yeah, I’m a bit sore too. That linebacker got me real good in the 3rd quarter. I was in the shower for a half hour this morning to work out the pain. Too bad Doc Glenn doesn’t work weekends."

Mark looked beneath his shirt. His chest looked swollen and puffy. He massaged his fingers around the sore spot. Touching it felt good.

"Owww."

Jeffrey laughed. "Come on you wimp. The ball didn't hit you that hard."

Mark shook his head. "I’m not sore from the game. I’m sore from Emily." He continued to press his hands against his chest.

Jeffrey smiled, "Emily made you sore? Nice. Maybe I was too hasty with my earlier comment."

Mark said, "Nah. It wasn’t like that. She punched me."

"Emily punched you?"

"Yeah." Mark picked up the ball and threw it back to his friend, "I told her field hockey wasn’t a real sport."

"Heh, heh." Jeffrey gripped the ball tight. "Rookie mistake, Lansing. Now I know you didn’t get any pussy last night."

A round of snickers echoed from the nearby boys. Jeffrey turned to face them. "Listen boys. Please don’t repeat what I just said to your parents, okay?"

The boys all shook their heads. "No sir."

Jeffrey winked to Mark. "In return, maybe I can get a few volunteers to catch some passes from me? Butterfingers #13 is injured."
All the boys raised their hands.

"That’s a lot of volunteers. You’re going to need to form a line." The boys all hustled to the spot where Mark had stood.

Jeffrey looked at the first kid. Ten yards. Down and out. You ready?" The boy returned an overly serious nod.

"Set. Hut."

The boy ran well past ten yards and turned around. Jeffrey tossed a slow ball that hit the boy's hands, and he caught on the second bobble. He wore a broad smile when he tossed the ball back to Jeffrey.

Jeffrey called out. "Next. You know how to run a buttonhook route?"

The next boy in line nodded.

"Set. Hut."

Mark watched from a distance as Jeffrey continued to instruct the boys in the finer points of pass catching. He couldn’t stop rubbing the spot where the football hit.

Chapter 4

A woman’s voice shouted up the stairs, "Emily’s here."

Mark called back. "Thanks Mom."

The long shower didn’t work and neither did a cold compress. Mark pulled on his tight-fitting compression shirt, hoping it might ease the pain.
The weird part was it didn’t hurt. It was more like a nagging ache.

"Ouch."

He hadn’t even realized he’d touched himself. If anything the compression shirt made things worse, but with Emily downstairs he couldn’t change now.

Mark pulled on his dress shirt and tied his tie. A quick look in the mirror showed two years later he looked essentially the same as he did in his sophomore year. 5’10", short brown hair parted on the left, dull brown eyes, and weighing a wispy 160 lbs. despite four years in the weight room.

No one would ever mistake him for Jeffrey, but he’d accepted that fact a long time ago. Jeffrey had tried to set him up with one of Gina’s friends but none of them seemed interested. Emily on the other hand had sought him out.

"You decent?"

"Yeah." Mark turned around to see his girlfriend standing in the doorway.

Mark struggled to find the right words. "You look … different."

Emily smiled, "You too."

Mark said, "I mean, you’re wearing a dress."

She laughed, "I’ve worn dresses before."

"I’ve never seen you in one."

"That’s probably true." She took his hand. "Tonight’s a special night."

"Is it?" Maybe tonight was the night he’d finally get lucky.

Emily bent at the knee, mocking a formal curtsy. "It’s the Homecoming Dance. Isn’t it every girl’s dream to have a big, strong football player take her?"

"Oh god." Mark forced a smile. "Are you still pissed about the thing I said about field hockey?"

She patted his cheek. "My boyfriend is both smart and sexy. How can a simple woman like me expect to withstand the feminine passions you arouse in my loins?"

"Are you going to be like this all night?"

"Haven’t decided yet." She dangled her keys. "Are you going to buy me dinner?"

Mark took a last look in the mirror. Something looked off, though Emily hadn’t said anything. "Yeah. I’m ready."

Mark felt the icy chill as soon as they walked inside the dance. Heads turned and others stopped talking as he passed. Emily held his hand the whole time, squeezing from time to time in a show of support.

Mark had to admit Gina and the Homecoming committee had done a great job. Streamers hung from the rafters with balloons and banners covering every wall. If he hadn’t been inside the room hundreds of times, he might not recognize it as their gymnasium.

Emily pointed, "Let’s sit with the team."

Mark glanced across the room towards the football team and their dates, but he knew Emily meant a different team. She pulled him across the room to a table where the field hockey team sat with their dates. Along the way, Mark saw Jeffrey sitting with a table full of cheerleaders. He looked as miserable as Mark felt.

"Everyone, this is Mark." Emily announced, "Mark this is everyone."

The whole group of field hockey players spoke at once, but Gwen Smathers spoke the loudest, "Ahh… the mysterious boyfriend. We were starting to wonder if you were made up."

"Seriously, Gwen? We’ve known each other since 5th grade and we’re in the same Physics class."

Gwen said, "Touchy, touchy, Marky. I’m surprised a big, strong football player would know one of us peasants."

Shit. Mark looked at Emily. "You told them?"

"I might have sent out a few texts. I was really mad."

The couple of the other girls at the table nodded. "She was really mad."

"She told all of you?" Smiles circled the table causing Mark’s face to turn red. He recognized a few of the other guys at the table, but none of them played football.

His panic rose. He turned to Emily, "Want something to drink?"

She curtsied. "Why, of course, sir. A proper girl should never fetch her own drink."

The table burst out laughing, the warmth on Mark’s face grew hot then moved to his chest, causing a twinge of pain so sharp he might have fallen if not for the help of a nearby chair. He exited the area as quickly as he could. A look back at the girls showed they already moved on to other subjects.

Jeffrey waved from the refreshment table. "How’s it going?"

"Emily is still pissed."

"Yeah, I bet. First you insult an entire team of girls, then you get stuck sitting with them. Bad planning, bro." Jeffrey flashed his trademark grin. "If it helps, Gina's friends are way more annoying."

"It doesn’t help." Mark glanced over at Emily, groping for something to say and coming up empty. "Girls."

"Yeah." Jeffrey looked over at Gina and sighed, "Girls."

"You’re sure they’re worth the trouble?"

Jeffrey grinned, "Oh yeah."

Mark scooped some of the pink looking concoction from the bowl and poured it into a red cup. "Want some?"

"Nah. Save that fruity shit for the girls."

Mark took a sip. "It’s not half bad."

Jeffrey turned his nose. "Too sweet for me, but Gina likes it." Jeffrey filled a cup for her then sniffed it. "You’d think someone would have had the decency to spike it."

"Yeah. Too bad." Mark nodded, filling a cup for Emily. It would have been nice if someone had spiked it. Alcohol might dull his pain.

Voices called from the other side of the gym. "Come on, Jeffy! We're dancing!" Gina and her friends were already headed for the dance floor.

"Guess I'm dancing," Jeffrey said.

"I can see that, Jeffy."

"Don't look so smug. Emily's gonna drag your ass out there, bro. Can't wait to see that."

"No way. Not happening."

Mark watched his friend go, sipping his punch as Jeffrey slid into the crowd with his usual flair.

Emily was alone at the table by the time Mark got back.

"Where'd everyone go?"

"Where do you think?" She looked out at the mass of people in the middle of the room dancing to the music. "It’s a dance."

"I don't think your friends like me."

"They like you fine. Don't you haze the new guys on the football team?"

"Only if they deserve it."

"Exactly the point." She smiled and took a sip of her punch, then held out her hand. "Care to join me on the dance floor?"

"I can't dance."

"Can't, or won't?"

"You know I've never even been to a dance before."

"Then tonight's the night you find out." Emily’s voice carried, loud and proud. "Don't worry, little Marky. I'll protect you." She held out her other hand. "Besides, you owe me."

"Fine." Mark stood. How long was he going to keep paying for one stupid comment?

Mark hadn’t dated much. Technically, Emily was only his third girlfriend, though his first two ‘relationships’ lasted a total of one evening after being set up by his Mom’s friends. He wasn’t even sure Emily counted since she approached him.

Emily pulled him towards the dance floor, with Mark complaining at every step.

"I’m warning you." He shouted, "I’m a terrible dancer."

"Relax." Emily said, "I’ll show you how to lead."

Mark said, "I’m so clueless I’m not even sure what leading means."

"You’ll figure it out in two minutes."

Mark wished he felt as confident as Emily sounded.

Confidence was one thing Emily had in abundance. It’s why Mark felt bad when he didn’t stick up for her when guys in the locker room made comments when they thought he wasn’t listening.

Plain.
Too skinny.
Tiny tits.

Mark never bothered arguing with them. Not because he agreed but because he only cared how beautiful Emily was on the inside. Standing here now, he realized he was as blind as all the others.

At school, Emily always dressed for comfort usually wearing a Stanton Field Hockey sweatshirt, baggy pants, and hair tied back in braids.

Tonight was different.

For once, she'd put on makeup, subtle enough that he couldn't tell exactly what she'd changed, yet dramatic enough that she seemed to glow beneath the dance hall lights. Dark, smoky eyes framed by impossibly long lashes. Deep red lipstick drew his attention every time she smiled.

She looked… beautiful … and it wasn’t because she'd transformed into someone else but because she’d turned herself into something Mark never realized had been there all along.

Emily caught him staring again. "Will you stop staring at my boobs?"

"I wasn’t."

A mischievous grin spread across her face. "Liar."

His ears burned. "I was just..." Mark shrugged helplessly. "Have I told you? … you look... wow."

"Thanks." Emily blushed.

Music pulsed around them as Emily rested her hands on his shoulders. Mark’s eyes again found their way to his girlfriend’s chest.

"Eyes up," she teased.

Mark immediately looked down at his feet.

She laughed. "Up is the other direction."

"I'm trying not to step on you."

"You're thinking too much." She leaned closer, lowering her voice as she whispered in his ear. "Relax."

The cheerleaders claimed the spotlight near the center of the dance floor, performing years of rehearsed routines, showing off so all could see. Their dates struggled to keep pace, though a few embraced the chaos. As usual, Jeffrey barreled through the choreography as a running back might, weaving his way through the crowd of girls, doing his best to avoid contact as if they were would-be tacklers. The moves were clumsy, ridiculous, and earned roaring cheers from the football players gathered along the edge of the floor.

Mark caught several of his teammates glancing back in his direction. Or more accurately… at Emily. For the first time all night, he didn't mind the attention. They were seeing what he was seeing. Emily was incredible and she had chosen him.

She leaned forward, speaking in a soft whisper only he could hear. "You can pull me closer."

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. "You sure?"

Emily pulled Mark close, her 4-inch heels reversing his normal height advantage. He stared up into her eyes as their bodies touched, his face warming as they danced body-to-body and cheek-to-cheek.

Mark couldn’t remember feeling happier. All his pain disappeared, as did his insecurities, replaced by a warm feeling rushing to his extremities.

"Get a room, Lansing." Mark didn’t need to look to know Jeffrey’s voice, but he had more important things on his mind.

Mark had no idea how long they danced as he lost himself as his girlfriend’s body rubbed against his own. When he regained his senses, Emily’s face looked white as a ghost. Only when Mark released her, did Emily’s color return.

Emily said, "Wow."

"Are you okay?" Mark asked.

Emily repeated, "Wow."

It took all Mark’s willpower not to kiss her. His entire body yearned for something. He'd watched couples in hallways making out like no one else existed, and he’d seen them in parks and in movie theaters. Now he found himself a part of that world, a deep feeling of desire welling up from within and not caring who saw. The ball of energy grew and grew until he could barely stand it.

Then the feeling shifted.

The tingling sensation bloomed across his chest, subtle at first, like pins and needles just beneath his skin. Mark tried to ignore it, at first assuming it was the press of Emily's body but then the tingling intensified, spreading out from his sternum in waves. His heart began to race, not from excitement, but from something else. Something wrong as Mark's stomach lurched.

He pulled back slightly, searching Emily's face for answers as the tingling became a burn, radiating through his chest as his vision blurred at the edges. The nausea hit like a sledgehammer, and Mark bent at his knees as a wave of sickness crashed through his body.

"Are you okay?" Emily said.

Mark shook his head, "I’m not sure."

Emily asked, "Can I help?"

Bile welled in the pits of Mark’s stomach as he ran in the general direction of the bathroom. The pain on his chest returned with growing intensity as he bounced off people in the crowd.

"Dude? Watch it." Mark recognized the sophomore from the football team, but pushed past, nearly knocking his date to the ground in the process.

"Asshole."

Mark didn’t stop. He didn’t look back. His action drew the attention of everyone nearby, the group of onlookers forming a wall between him and his destination. Only one thing could get them to move.

"I’m gonna get sick…"

As soon as Mark said the magic words, the crowd parted like the Red Sea. Waves of laughter followed him all the way to the bathroom. Bile climbed his throat as he opened the stall door.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

He’d barely locked the door when red liquid began spewing from his mouth, missing the toilet by a foot. Waves of cold started next, cascading from head to toe freezing Mark in place as it climbed his body, stopping at his chest.

The feeling disappeared as soon as it started, quiet returning too. Soon, the only sound in the bathroom was the drip-drip-drips from the faucets.

"No way."

Mark pinched himself. This had to be a dream. No, it had to be a nightmare. He wanted to scream but didn’t dare draw attention. He could think of only one person to call. They picked up on the first ring.

"Where’d you go? Come back to the dance floor."

Mark didn’t have time to explain. "Something happened. Meet me by the nature trail."

Mark stretched his arms. The cold October wind felt good against his chest.

A voice called in the darkness. "Mark?" Emily’s voice sounded shrill in the night air.

"I’m over here."

Dozens of couples lined the trail of the woods, all in various states of undress. He’d nearly tripped over a few but thankfully, most were either too drunk or too preoccupied to get a good look at his half naked body.

Emily asked, "Why are we out here?"

Mark took a deep breath, pressing the compression shirt against his chest.

Emily said, "Aren’t you cold?"

Mark shook his head. "I’m burning up." He held out a hand and took Emily’s hands in his own.

Emily said, "You are warm."

Mark guided Emily’s hand to the warmth under his compression shirt. As soon as she touched his chest the feeling grew more intense.

"What’s wrong?"

Mark tried to answer. He wanted to say more but found the world growing faint. A second later he looked down as the ground got closer and closer.

A gentle hand slapped him on the cheek. "Are you okay?"

Mark’s eyes blinked open. A girl stood over him. Thoughts moved rapidly. Football… Emily… Dance… Bathroom… Mark rolled to his knees to hold off getting sick again.

Emily asked, "Are you okay?"

Mark looked down. "Where’s my shirt?"

"I found it on the ground." She pointed to a branch on a nearby tree where both his dress shirt and compression shirt hung.

"I …" Mark looked down. "Do you see my chest?"

"Well … yeah." Emily said, looking embarrassed.

"What do you think?" Mark wasn’t sure how to explain.

Emily nodded her head, "I’ve seen your chest before."

“I mean…” Mark shook his head, then lowered his voice, "Look at my nipples. They’re sticking out."

Emily said, "It’s cold."

Mark shook his head, not quite believing his words. "I think I’m growing boobs."

“Ha.” Emily laughed then realized Mark wasn’t joking, "Did someone spike the punch?" She pulled down her dress enough to reveal a bra propping up two perky mounds of flesh. "These are boobs."

Mark walked beside her. "Feel me."

Mark nearly fell as soon as Emily’s cold hands touched the area. "You have distended nipples. Lots of guys have them. It’s not a big deal."

Mark pressed his hands down, receiving a rush of pain for his effort,"Not a big deal?" Mark couldn’t believe anyone would think this wasn’t a big deal.

Emily’s teeth chattered as she spoke. "Can’t we go somewhere warmer? Whatever game you’re playing is too much. You don’t need to do this if you really want to mess around."

Mark wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but it didn’t feel funny. Touching a girl’s chest was something he’d dreamed about since Middle School. Jeffrey had teased him for most of the last month because of his inability to get to second base with Emily.

"Are you serious?"

Emily fought off a shiver, "We can stay here if you want. You’re clearly not the only member of the student body who had this idea." Moans from the nearby woods reinforced her point.

Mark didn’t hesitate. He put one hand on his chest and the other on Emily’s bra. It surprised him when she didn’t swat him away.

Emily asked, "Is it everything you expected?"

Mark touched himself and then touched Emily’s bra. "It’s different."

Emily laughed, "I know you don’t have much experience with girls but the things on your chest and the things on mine are a lot different."

"I know." Mark said, taking Emily’s hand and placing it on his nipple. "Can’t you feel that?"

"That’s not a breast." Emily pulled her hand away. "Have you ever heard of gynecomastia?"

Mark said, "Guy-nah-what?"

"Man boobs." Emily smiled when Mark didn’t respond, "It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s not uncommon for guys. The area’s probably been growing for years, and you never noticed."

"No way." Mark shook his head as his voice rose an octave. "I would have noticed. And if I didn’t the guys in the locker room would have said something." Mark shook his head as thoughts raced through his brain. Nothing made sense. "The area started hurting last night after you hit me. I thought it was a bruise but the more I touched it, the more it hurt. Then Jeffrey hit me there with a ball this morning and something happened on the dance floor…" Thoughts came rushing back. "Do you remember our slow dance?"

"Sure." Emily gave a shy smile, "I remember dancing. I remember pulling you tight."

Mark nodded, "The pain in my chest went away when I touched you."

"Okay." Emily laughed. “Are you saying I have magic tits?”

Mark said, "It took every ounce of strength to let go…"

"That’s because you’re horny."

"… and as soon as I did, I started to feel sick. I ran to the bathroom and that’s when I felt the change happen to my chest."

Emily stared. "I don’t see a change."

Mark looked down at his nipples pointing out like two headlights in the cold. "Let’s do a test."

"A test?"

"Let me touch your breasts … under the bra."

"Nice try." Emily scowled, "If you want to touch my breasts, there are more romantic ways to ask. I already told you we could mess around if you played your cards right. To be clear, making me stand in the woods on a cold night is not playing your cards right."

"You were going to let me…" Mark shook his head. He had more pressing matters to address.

"Too late.” Emily interjection, “What’s your plan, perv?"

Mark reached out. His fingers had a mind of their own, snaking under Emily’s bra and moving higher.

"Damn Mark. Your hands are cold."

"Sorry."

Mark had one hand on his chest and stared into his girlfriend's eyes as he reached under the cloth of her bra. He might be screwing everything up but he needed to know. Emily's eyes grew dim as Mark's hands grew warm. It was nice to feel a breast.

He’d barely finished the thought when a shiver traveled the length of his body. It didn’t hurt, it felt more like when the blood supply is cut off to an arm for too long and a thousand pins and needles poke you all at once. Every place it moved froze his body solid, finally centering on his chest before disappearing.

Emily’s eyes retained a glassy look. "Em?"

Emily smiled and adjusted her bra, "Your hand felt nice…"

Mark blushed. "That’s all you felt?"

Emily took a moment to catch her breath before answering. "… I felt something else too. It’s hard to describe."

Mark asked, "Can you try?"

Emily yawned, "Can we please go somewhere warm?"

Mark shook his head. He pressed a hand against his right breast. "It happened again."

“You’re being ridicul…” Emily placed her hand on Mark’s chest. "That feels like a breast bud." She reached with her other hand. “That one too.”

“Do you believe me now?”

Emily let her fingers trace a circle around Mark’s nipples. “That’s so weird.”

Mark pulled away. "Can we go somewhere else?"

Emily gave a cross look, “I’ve been asking for ten minutes. Wanna go back to the dance?”

Mark shook his head. “I want to go to some place more private.”

“Uh huh…” Emily returned a wry smile. "We can’t go to my place. My Mom would freak out if she caught me with a boy in my room."

Mark returned a look of innocence he’d practiced all week, "You could come to my house. It’s parent’s weekend at my sister’s college. Mom and Dad won’t be back until tomorrow."

“Ha … ha…” Emily smirked, "If I didn’t know you better, I’d think this whole night was a set up.”

Mark shrugged. "I’d be lying if I hadn’t hoped … but I promise, no tricks. You can sleep in Missy’s room, if you want to stay the night."

“I trust you Mark.” Emily gave him a peck on the cheek. "I’ll call Mom and tell her I’m spending the night with a girlfriend from the team."

Mark pulled at his shirt. "Awesome."

It took them five minutes to backtrack through the woods to get to the parking lot. Emily didn’t say a word as they drove to his house. Every so often, she did give him a look as Mark swirled his fingers around his nipples. The area felt better every time he did it.

---

---

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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