Molly

by Lisa Blades

"Get out of my room, Steve!" my brother yelled. "Just get the hell out!"

Tim, who was only a year older than me at 16, was stretched out on his bed with his headphones now down around his neck. I had knocked three times to tell him our folks had just left for the evening. When I heard no answer, I opened the door to tell him.

That's when Tim exploded. He had a bad temper, anyway, and this was just a good excuse to unleash it for a moment. Tim was larger than me, more than his one year would suggest, despite the fact I wasn't small myself.

For years I had been putting up with his temper, taking so much guff from him it was incredible. And all that time I possessed the power and ability to do something about it.

But I had always hesitated, fearful of letting anyone know what I could do. It was my secret. And I always had this gnawing fear of what would happen if people knew about it. I had used it on a few people, but only when guaranteed anonymity.

Doing to my brother would leave little doubt as to who did it. But right then, something just plain snapped inside me. There was no boiling anger or anything. Just a simple decision to do it, consequences be damned.

"God damn it!" he screamed. He yanked his headphones off and bounced them onto the bed beside him. Then he got up and came toward me, fists clenched at his side. He meant to hit me. Plain and simple.

"Not this time," I whispered. An image formed in my mind. Though unneeded, I brought my hand up in front of me. Tim stutter stepped. I snapped my fingers.

Looking at Tim right then was like looking through the viewfinder of a camera that's badly out of focus. His image wavered and moved, shrinking just a touch.

Then, just as quickly as he faded out of focus, he snapped back in. The difference was immediately obvious. The person in front of me no longer looked like Tim in the least, despite the fact it was.

The body was slim and trim, the figure obviously that of a young teenage girl. Two breasts poked out at the girl's blouse. A skirt fell to mid- thigh. Her hair was a dark red and short, her face pouty looking.

She rocked back on her heels. Her face was pale and eyes half closed. I had done it to myself before, so I knew what she was feeling. It was stunning when you weren't expecting it.

She leaned and half fell onto the bed. The change was immediately obvious to her, both visually and internally. Her eyes snapped open and stared down at her body. Then they looked toward me.

"Steve?" she asked, surprise rising on her face at the sound of her voice. "What's happened?"

"This is your punishment," I said, then sneered the word, "brother."

"What?" she whispered.

"C'mon, Tim," I said. "Or should that be Tammi? You're not an idiot, even if you act like one most of the time. You're not stupid. You can figure it out." I grinned foolishly.

She was still looking at me like I was speaking in tongues. Nothing was making connections in her mind. The shock was still thick. I was going to half to cut through it.

"You're a girl," I said. "Put in biological terms, you can reproduce the species now. Every month you're going to have a special visit from the menstruation fairy. When you use the toilet, you're going to have to sit down. Ciao."

I backed out of the room and closed the door. I went back downstairs and sat in the living room to watch television. I expected Tim to be very angry right now, but much to afraid to do anything. After all, look what I had done.

Her mind (the pronouns can be confusing) was probably spinning and careening wildly across any one of a million thoughts. After a while, though, she would calm down.

Sure enough, half-hour later I heard Tim's door open and shut. There were the light sound of soft footsteps on the stairs. She appeared at the entrance of the living room. She sat down on the couch.

"Why?" she finally asked after sitting silently for a few minutes.

"Because you can be such an ass," I said. "What better way to treat an ass than make him into what he always calls 'a piece of ass.' "

She flinched.

"I don't under-," she started but I cut her off.

"No you don't," I said harshly. "That's half your problem. You throw your weight around just because you're bigger than me and treat me like some second class citizen. Now you don't have that to throw around. Now I have the upper hand. And I'm going to use it."

"What do you mean?" she asked meekly.

"You'll see," I said. "And don't get any funny ideas. I can change you into some 300-pound hippo of a girl and call the police. They'd haul you away so fast it would make your head spin. Just sit quietly and do what I say. Maybe, just maybe, I'll change you back."

She did. I had her so scared, she didn't even think of the fact I could never explain the disappearance of Tim. Or rather I could, but it would devastate our folks. And I had no reason to want to hurt them.

For the next several hours she did precisely as she was told. She fetched me something to drink, made some popcorn and even cleaned up the mess without a word of complaint. Tim was becoming very submissive.

Around 10 p.m. I dropped several pieces of popcorn on the floor.

"Pick those up," I said flatly. She hurriedly came around next to my chair and bent to pick them up. "No. Not with you hands. Get down on your belly and pick them up with your mouth."

With no complaints or hesitation, she did just that. She pressed her mouth down over them and sucked them into her mouth. Then she returned to the couch. I already knew what I was going to do next.

I moved to the couch and sat down so our legs were touching.

"Don't even think about moving away," I said.

I touched her bare knee. The skin was incredibly soft. I reached over and slowly unbuttoned her blouse, eventually pulling it off her to reveal a small bra that was barely being put to use.

Next, I reached and unzipped her skirt. She raised herself enough to allow me to pull it off.

My hands went to her face, feeling the silky skin. I traced her lips and eyes and nose. Then I reached for her hair. It was incredibly soft. The shortness of it excited me. It was incredible.

When I cupped her breast in my hand, I could feel her breathing heavily. One hand reached and slipped inside her panties. She was wet.

The next few instants were fast and frantic. I threw my shirt and shorts off and quickly undid her bra. I ripped her panties off one leg, and they lay twisted and turned and damp, still wrapped around her other slim leg.

I entered her quickly and pumped fast and furious. We kissed. I felt her tongue pushing into my mouth. The hot points of her nipples pressed into my chest. She gasped and moaned right along with me. We came within moments of each other.

I pulled out of her and started to dress.

"Get dressed and go to your room," I said softly. "Mom and dad will be home. I'll tell them you're asleep already. They won't check on you."

She left. I did as I said I would. Then I went to her room. As soon as I closed the door behind me, she turned on the lamp. The sheet fell from her, revealing her naked figure.

"Please turn me back," she said. Her eyes were rimmed in red. She stared to say something, then hesitated. She turned away from me and blushed deeply as she finally spoke.

"I... I played with myself," she said. "I was still so turned on from our... thing we did. I couldn't help it. Oh, God, I want to be a boy again."

I sat on the bed and pulled her against me. She started to sob as she continued to talk.

"I was so afraid of them coming in here when they got home," she said. "Like you said, I thought about the police coming and taking me away. I was so scared." She paused. "I don't know what I feel anymore."

"Did you learn anything?"

"Yes!" she said quickly. "I'll be good. Really! I've learned! I've-"

"Shhh," I told her, and she looked crestfallen. "I believe you. But just remember. Retaliation could be painful. Because I can do other things."

I snapped my fingers. She still looked identical. Only now a penis hung between her legs. She literally shook when she saw it.

"And it can go the other way, too," I said, and she nodded in perfect understanding. I stood, snapped my fingers, and started to leave. By the time I reached the door, it was my brother sitting in bed.

I stopped and looked at him. He was about to say something, but I just held my finger to my lips. He meekly complied to my wish for silence.

"Since this was your first lesson," I said, "I should leave you with a little something. Or a big something." I snapped my fingers again. Two quite large breasts pressed heavily against his t-shirt. I laughed. "Sleep carefully, Tim. I've heard big bosomed women can't toss and turn much without hurting themselves. And keep covered. You wouldn't want mom and dad to see you like that." ***** I awoke that morning around 5 a.m. and changed him back. I didn't need to be in his room to do it. Then I went back to sleep.

For the next few days, Tim spoke very little to me. But he was very polite. Both folks noticed he had become a little self-absorbed, not going outside very often. I calmed their fears, telling them he had had a fight with a friend.

But that Friday, the feeling of someone sitting down on my bed woke me up. It was Tim. Our folks had already gone to work for the day. He looked at me nervously. He had something to say.

"It's all right," I told him finally. "You can say what you want. Words are fine. As long as you know where to stop."

It took a moment before he began. In that moment I noticed that, despite the fact he was bigger than I, I seemed much larger that day than his almost cowering form.

"I was thinking about the other night," he said. "I was thinking about what you said and did to me. I've thought long and hard about what it showed me and the way it made me feel.

"It scared me, at first. It felt like had been punched almost unconscious. Everything was so weird and odd. But it taught me a lesson. And I want to thank you for that."

Tim hugged me, the first time I ever remembered him doing so. We he leaned away, I saw there was more he wanted to say.

"Like I said, I thought about how I felt," he said. "And I want to ask you something."

"What?" I asked softly.

"Make me a girl again," he said. He looked away for a moment, embarrassed by what he asked. But he continued to speak. "I've never felt like anything but a guy. But the other night, I felt so good. What we did, well, I... I... I've jacked off thinking about it over and over again since then."

Then he looked at me. I could see in his eyes he meant it.

"You want to become the same girl?" I asked. "I can do it differently, you know."

"Yes, her," he said. "She felt good."

"Yes," I said, smiling and nodding in agreement. "She did."

I snapped my fingers. She was sitting beside me.

"Thank you," she said.

"It's okay," I said. "Just remember we have to change you back when mom and dad get home."

"Yes, sure, anything you say," she said, agreeing readily. She paused. "Anything you say at all. I'll do it. Just let me be a girl as often as possible."

When I nodded, she fell into my arms. We made love in my bed. It was wonderful. ***** Tim existed only when our parents were in direct sight of us. Other times, there was only her. Even if our folks we simply downstairs, she would be there to keep me company. The process of change could take place so quickly, it really didn't matter.

She had discovered a resemblance to Molly Ringwold, so it was Molly I called her. She liked the name.

As I had more time to be with her, I noticed something very startling. Molly had begun to develop her own separate personality from Tim's. It wasn't schizophrenia, really, no split-personality. Molly described it as two sets of clothes. The person inside was the same, but each felt different and caused different reactions.

I knew it went deeper. Though neither Tim nor Molly had said it, I knew Tim felt no sexual desire toward me. Instead, he simply felt desire to be Molly.

But Molly and I were electric together. Everything was perfect. The fit between each of us was snug, mentally, physically and emotionally.

We spent our days doing everything together. We'd go to the Mall, walking around and holding hands. We'd sit in the park and kiss. Or we'd simply stay around home and be near each other.

Molly was kinky, just as I was. Nothing was too weird to try once. Her sexual desire was endless, like mine, and I suppose she could have earned the term slut if it wasn't for the fact she was faithful to me. But I wondered how much of her desire had come from me in the transformation process. ***** I licked her small but pert breasts. They were soft and delicate, like all of her. They seemed so perfect. The nipple rested against my tongue like a small weight.

"I love you, Steve," she sighed. It was the first time either of us had said it. I slid up her body, kissing the top of her breast, her collarbone, neck, chin and finally her lips. They parted. We kissed deeper.

"I love you, too, Molly," I said. She smiled and my heart pounded. We were both telling the ultimate truth. ***** As the summer moved on, we truly discovered each other. Molly existed more and more. Tim was simply the cover. Our folks worked so much, there was little chance of them ever catching Molly. Though there were several times they almost did.

Our folks were supposed to be out until very late one evening. There was some party or another for people in my dad's firm. He knew it would be tactful and politically smart to be there and rub elbows.

Molly and I ordered pizza and ate in the nude on the floor of my bedroom. Our folks have plenty of money and all the rooms are large, so it was more than spacious for us. We threw ourselves and a few pillows down in front of the TV. About 8 or so, Molly was thirsty and headed down to the kitchen.

Why she didn't just walk down as she was is beyond me, but it proved very wise. Instead of going nude, she slipped on a simple nightie that had been Tim's pajama bottoms.

Molly reached the bottom of the stairs at the same time the front door opened and revealed my parents. They weren't expecting to see anyone, so didn't look up. It gave Molly just enough time to dart into the kitchen on the other side of the dining room.

I happened to lower down the volume of the TV just at that moment to yell for Molly to bring me something as well. That's when I heard our parents' voices in the entry way. They were low and almost inaudible, yet distinctive. With a snap of my fingers, Molly became Tim.

Quickly, knowing our folks would want to check on what we were doing (they were curious, not nosy, thank God), I went to work. The pillows were arranged neatly in two piles instead of one. As I headed out of the room, I slipped into a pair of shorts, t-shirt and turned on my Nintendo set.

I hit the first floor the same time my parents went to see why the lights were on in the kitchen. I greeted them both, then told Tim to hurry with the drinks, that I couldn't hold the video game forever. Tim appeared in the doorway, looking shaken. But he pulled through, our dad following us up to the room.

Dad played a couple games with us, then headed off to bed when mom finally demanded it of him. Before the door even shut, Molly and I kissed hard and long.

"I was scared," she said. Her eyes were wide and frightened. I noticed again just how different she was from Tim. "I thought we'd had it." I pulled her against me.

"We lucked out," I said, nodding. But apparently we didn't think much of our luck running out. We made love on the floor, with both parents just down the hall. Molly slept in my arms, not awaking to return as Tim to his room until our folks had woken.

But it was about the middle of July when Molly finally sprung the big news on me. We were entwined, naked, on the back lawn.

"I want to stay like this," she said.

"So do I," I said. "It's perfect. The sun, the warmth and us." "You don't understand, Steve," she said softly, turning to look in my eyes. "I don't want to be Tim anymore. I'm Molly. Tim isn't comfortable anymore."

I was stunned, unable to do anything but look a her for a while.

"You can't mean that," I said. But there was a firmness in her eyes. That was one thing her and Tim shared. Stubbornness. Though Molly's tended to hold a sweet edge to it.

"I do," she said flatly, then leaned heavily against me. There was a long pause, only the distant sounds of the real world breaking the completely silence. We both sat and thought, our bodies touching.

"Molly, I love you," I told her.

"I love you, too, Steve," she said.

"But there's more," I told her. "There's some things I have to say, I have to remind you of before we can go further."

We both lay on our sides, our hands grasped together as I spoke.

I told her the truth, a truth she seemed to have forgotten. I reminded her she was born out of my desire for revenge on Tim, my hatred of the way he treated me. Though I knew they were both separate persons, I said, she had to keep that in mind.

And she also had to keep in mind the problems that would arise from her permanent residence and Tim's disappearance. There was our parents and school, the real world and each other. Seventeenyear-olds just don't disappear from school, I told her, without raising suspicion.

If she were to stay, either our parents would have to be told or we would have to run away together. I told her I loved her again, and that I would follow her to the ends of the earth to be with her. But I also depicted our parents, crushed and blaming themselves for the disappearance of their sons. And what could we, two inexperienced minors, do to support ourselves?

"I'm not trying to talk you out of this, my love," I told her, my hand lightly touching her face. "I just think we have to lay the cards on the table. And we have to be frank about your origins, Molly. I want nothing more than to be with you the rest of our lives."

She paused and thought, then smiled when she spoke.

"I know how I feel, Steve," she said. "Tim doesn't exist. Really. At the beginning, Tim was real and I was this sketchy, frightened outline of a girl with no real substance. Then I began to take on form and character, and a mind of my own."

Now it was she who touched me.

"I began to despise what Tim had done," she said. "We lived an uneasy existence together. But over the last few weeks, Tim has become the formless outline of a person. It is no longer me and Tim, two separate people. It is now me and then me inside of Tim's body. Tim is gone, Steve."

"Are you sure?" I asked, my eyes obviously showing my surprise. She laughed, though it was kind and sweet.

"Yes, I am," she said. "There's nothing to be worried about, love. I'll continue on as Tim, trying to fake my way through it. But I don't guarantee it will be perfect. It is hard to act like a boy. I feel like I'm forgetting already what it was like. I'm afraid my traits will show through. But for you, my sweetheart, I will try."

We made love again on the grass. ***** One morning Molly asked me more about my ability. It was really the first time we had ever spoke about it together. She knew what I could do to her, but wanted to know if I could also do it to myself.

"Yes," I said, as we sat on my bed looking out the sliding glass door out over the backyard. "I've done it to myself before. It's just as easy."

Molly chewed on her lower lip, a nervous habit Tim had not had. It was one of the things that caused me to truly believe she was, indeed, an independent person from Tim.

"I want to ask you to do something for me, then," she said slowly. "And I don't want you to take it wrong or mean something is wrong with me. Because I still believe in myself as Molly and-"

"Hey," I said, touching her hand. "I know. I believe you. Just say what you want, babe."

"I want you to change into a woman," she said. "I want to know what it feels like to make love like two women. Like two women lovers."

"Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Surprise me."

The girl who then sat next to her was a little taller than she was. She had long, straight and smooth blonde hair that fell to her rear end. The face was smooth and clear, pleasant to look at without being model- perfect. She wore a simple nightgown that accented the slightly large breasts she possessed.

Molly leaned back a little, her surprised look becoming one of desire as she drank in he sight of me. Cautiously, her hand reached for mine.

I grasped hers firmly. Molly then became the aggressor. She lay me back on the bed and kissed me, the feeling awesome as our soft lips pressed together.

"You're my Laura," Molly said as we stopped kissing for a moment.

"I like that name, my love," I said, marveling at the easy and wonderful sound of my own voice.

We made love like only women can. And we made love for hours, never seeming to get enough of each other's bodies. There was an aesthetic perfection in our being together like that. Something we rarely seemed to have as Steve and Molly.

And as we dozed off around noon, the thoughts running through my mind frightened me. ***** Our lovemaking as Steve and Molly was still good, very good. But there was something that seemed to be missing. A certain edge.

Three days after our first lesbian affair, I became Laura and snuck into Tim's room early that morning. I started crawling up his body, and by the time I reached the top it was Molly's face I kissed.

"Laura, my love," she said sleepily as we kissed again. "I've missed you."

We made love. And the turmoil in my mind seemed worse, though the decision seemed clearer. **** Laura and Molly began to spend more time together. Even though neither of us spoke it until we went to the mall together that Saturday afternoon, we both knew what was happening and where it was heading. And we both realized the inevitableness of it.

We sat in the back booth at a restaurant in the mall, talking and holding hands under the table.

"We need to talk about this," I said.

"Yes," Molly agreed, nodding her head.

"I think I know what you were talking about earlier," I said. "Speaking about how you were just an image and Tim was real, only to have the roles reversed. It's like that with me. Sort of."

Molly was listening carefully, both of us pausing as the waitress delivered our food.

"As Laura I feel almost like a complete version of Steve," I said. "It was something I never admitted to myself as Steve, but I think I wanted to be a woman."

"A transsexual," Molly said, surprising us both with the term.

"Yes," I said, grateful for the clarification. "Where you became an almost separate person as Molly, Laura is me. The perfect me, ideal me. She's what I wanted to be as Steve but never really could. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect," Molly said, this time taking my hand across the table. I felt conscientious, but no one paid us any mind. It was just a girl comforting another girl. "This is the real person that lived inside of Steve, with all the other stuff Steve thought he had to be cut aside. How long did you know you wanted to be a girl?"

"I've thought about that over the last couple days," I said. "At first I thought never. But there were little signs. Like not standing up to Tim. Like things at school. My real feelings. I think I might have known it when I was four or so. But it was strange, because there was no homosexual feelings toward men. I wanted a woman. I just wanted her differently."

"Wow," Molly said softly. We began to eat in silence. But I broke it.

"You know what this means," I asked. My hesitation must have shown in my eyes. I was set up for her rejection, her saying she wanted Steve only.

"It means I'll be seeing a lot more of Laura," she said, and her warm and loving smile made me want to cry. As it was, a few small tears found their way down my cheek. Molly touched them carefully with her fingers. Unlike a guy would have done, there was no pleading to stop crying. She knew how I felt.

As we sat sipping at our soft drinks, our lunch plates long gone, Molly spoke.

"I'll never leave you, Laura," she said. "I've fallen in love with the person inside you, what's in your heart and makes you real. I fell in love with it when you were Steve. And I still love it now."

"Even though that makes you..." I hesitated.

"What?" she asked, a knowing smile on her face. "Gay? A lesbian? Bisexual? Some other equivalent term? That means nothing to me. Only you do."

We kissed, right there in the booth. There were few people around to notice, save the waitress who was coming to bring us the check. She looked oddly at us. I took Molly's hand and caressed it lovingly as she sat down the check and left us.

"We do have to be careful," Molly said. "Not everybody like women in love with each other."

"I know," I told her. "I guess that was just sort of a public notice of our love. We can't take it back."

Molly just looked at my face, her expression becoming dreamy. "God," she said. "I love you."

Molly copyright 1996 by Lisa Blades.