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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Papyrus font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.
 

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The Legal Stuff: Symbol  ©2009 SuZie
 
All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.
 
The image used for this story is used under royalty-free license* and fair-use policy from 3D Desktops UK
 

This story is a sequel to Symbols and is best understood after reading that story. The point of view has shifted primarily to Janelle, in first person. There are some scenes of violence here, so I’ve made the appropriate maturity designation. And, as usual, I have thrown a lot of words at my computer in a very short time. They may be jumbled a tad. I’m grateful for any errors you might point out to me.
 

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It felt like my hair was being tugged off my head and then I was suddenly falling to the sidewalk, landing hard on my rear end. While my tush was a good deal more padded as a thirteen-year-old girl than it had been as a boy of ten, it still hurt considerably to land hard on it.

I froze for a moment, trying to figure out what had happened before reacting. My very long hair had been put into a French braid that morning by my mother. The result was a tail that still reached nearly to the small of my back. Something, or someone, had snagged it towards the end and yanked hard, pulling me off my feet. Since the sidewalk was bereft of overhanging limbs from the trees lining the road, I concluded that the culprit was one of the boys bedeviling me these last few weeks as I acclimated to my new school. It was almost Winter Break and I was still walking home alone, a prime target of misogynists and the equal opportunity haters at school.

I had moved from my old elementary school to the middle school in town, going from a plain, young boy to a “hottie” of thirteen. Since the transformation was accomplished through the Dark Energy of the Orb, the power I thought of as Chaos Incarnate, it had completely altered my physical form, creating a true girl in the place of my previous, somewhat lacking boyish frame. There were enough similarities in my facial structure and general build for those who knew me well to recognize the boy who had been, but that was all. I had catapulted from a plain 5th-grade boy to just about the hottest looking girl in middle school. My hair was now “naturally” a honey blond with subtle highlights both light and dark, and my figure was at the advanced end of the spectrum for girls of thirteen, without being sluttish. My face had always been heart shaped, but now my eyes seemed impossibly large and my mouth delightfully small with pouting lips that had boys and more than a few men casting lustful glances my way.

After the miraculous transformations of Halloween, my mother and father had set me down and given me a “talking to.” I was now a fertile female who would attract more than my share of attention from boys and even men. I had to know how to behave so as not to send the wrong signals to the opposite sex and I had to know how to dissuade those too dense to recognize my signals.

With the power of Chaos now inside me, I thought that I could handle just about anything that came my way, but my parents patiently explained that I needed to act like a regular girl without resorting to magical means. After all, I couldn’t turn every offender into a pig. That last comment caused me to blush furiously. I had turned George Shandling into a pig on Halloween night when he poked my growing breasts with his plastic pig hoof. All had turned out right in the end, without help from me. The Orb had broken, freeing Chaos to a world that it had not ventured in for millennia. Previously bound with human symbols that held power so long as men and Chaos in believed them, the Dark Energy sped forth, completing the tasks we had set it before eventually hiding within me. So used to stricture, Chaos needed someone familiar and ordered to protect it from the world at large. It needed someone who understood it. That someone was me.

Now, as I contemplated how I should respond to the recent assault, I became aware of snickering behind me. Using my new powers without physically turning, I discovered that three boys were standing across the sidewalk, looking at me with smirks on their faces. The central figure was Tom Jackson, a boy who seemed to have it out for me since Day One. Flanking him were two of the worst bullies in school, the kind who would pick on anyone weaker than themselves, even a girl. Since I was new and had yet to make many friends, I was their usual target when they weren’t after one of the scrawnier boys in my class.

Still, I had not thought that Tom would join those bullies in attacking me. His animosity seemed directed solely towards my person, as if I had done something particularly obnoxious to him sometime in the past. Since we had had no past interaction, I was at a loss in understanding his hatred of me, the new girl at school.

“Great one, Tom! Stupid girl can’t even keep her feet on the sidewalk when she gets a little tug on her hair. Thinks she’s so much better than anyone else. Hah! She’s a total klutz! And she’s way too smart for her own good. No wonder the nerds are her only friends at school!”

That was just too much for me to bear. I’d made tentative friends with some of the Math and Chess Club types, but I was also getting to know some of the regular girls. Just because I was shy as a girl did not make me a nerd!

I jumped to my feet and turned around to confront the three bullies.

“You idiots think you’re so cool attacking a girl? Well, you know what?” I began, striking a pose as if quoting a famous line (which I was), “You can’t think without your hats!”

The two bullies each side of Tom scratched their bare heads, before Bully Number One replied, “Stupid girl thinks we wear hats!”

I was fuming now–and not thinking exactly. I endeavored to explain to cretins who would never understand. “It’s a quote. Actually I paraphrased. Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot. ‘He can’t think without his hat.’”

“Para what?” asked Bully Number Two, looking about as bovine and intelligent as one of the calves at the state fair.

I cursed myself under my breath. Quoting anything more complex than X-Men to these boys was only going to confirm my nerd status in their eyes, and it certainly would not score any points.

Tom was starting to look guilty by this time. It was clear that he’d been put up to assaulting me by the two bullies.
“Paraphrase means…” Tom’s explanation died as he realized he might be demonstrating more intelligence than was wise around the Cretin Twins. His anger returned, aimed directly at me. “You’re a stuck up bitch, just like all the others! I said hi that first day and you never even answered me! I hate you!”

“Well, I just wish you’d figure out what is bothering you and stop trying to mess with me, Tom! And as for you two,” I said, my voice lowering almost to boy timbre, “go take a soak!”

The two bullies took that moment to stumble while standing still–quite a trick, I might add–and fell onto the adjacent lawn where sprinklers were just then beginning to come to life. Why a Florida lawn needed sprinklers was beyond me, and chose not to think about what I might have done with my Chaos wish. The two floundered about long enough to become completely soaked before running off home. So much for big, bad bullies!

Tom just stared at me, horror growing on his face. He abruptly turned and ran as fast as he could, sobbing loud enough for me to hear him half a block away.

“You’ve really done it this time.”

I swung around to see Abby, my pixy, hands on her hips, looking at me as if I’d just killed a puppy. Abby had been one of the consequences of that final blast of Chaos before it had entered me. A special agent with a secret government organization, she had been large and male until that day. Now she was a pixy, barely three foot plus and cute as a button. That had royally pissed her off in the beginning, but now she seemed to be coming into her own.

Still, her change in attitude did not extend to deferring to me as her Mistress, or whatever position I now commanded in her life. Oh, she obeyed me. She had to. That was part of the magic. And she was truly a pixy in many of her powers. She could wink out of existence and reappear elsewhere, she could remain invisible–and was commanded to do so–to anyone else. But where was the respect?

Abby interrupted my disgruntled thoughts with further criticism, “You traumatized that poor girl something awful.”

“What do you mean, ‘girl’?” I shot back angrily, “That was Tom. He’s been such a pain to me and I never understood why! There wasn’t any girl here…”

My retort trailed off as the implication of Abby’s words finally sank into my thick head. For a genius, I was sometimes incredibly dense.

Tom had come up to me that first day as I entered Middle School–as a girl!–two weeks after my amazing transformation from 10-year-old, weakling, uncoordinated Johnnie into the 13-year-old hottie Janelle. That was before anyone else dared approach me. The boys were obviously afraid of me, and the girls were more than a little jealous. Add to that my slightly awkward manner (Mom’s condensed instructions into girldom notwithstanding) and no one seemed willing to break the ice with me.

I was feeling rather down when Tom came up to me, barely concealing a strange fascination, and asked if I’d like to hang out with him. I’d muttered something noncommittal and brushed by, unnerved with his unusual manner. At the time I’d thought he was coming on to me in a weird fashion. With hindsight, I realized he’d been trying to be a friend–as in girlfriend–to someone who still had some of the boyish mannerisms that 10 years in that hated body had instilled in me.

Tom was attracted to me precisely because I was a good-looking girl who acted like she was new to the game, someone he–I mean she–could relate to, even if she did not precisely know why.

And I’d forced that knowledge onto her in the blink of an eye!

For me, the knowledge that I was really a girl inside began to develop around age seven. By the time of my transformation a few weeks ago, I was certain of who I was, but terrified of admitting it to my parents. Roger’s girlfriend, Kylie, was transformed that same night, going from a frail, undersized boy of nineteen to a knockout temptress of the same age. Roger had always known, somewhere deep down inside, that Kevin was really a girl. He had even come to love that part of her, while being ashamed of the attraction, never even admitting it to himself.

Somehow I’d managed to screw up their budding romance, and now this! Janelle, Wielder of Chaos Magic was a walking disaster area!
 

It was a week before Thanksgiving that I’d interfered in my brother’s romance with Kylie. At the time, I enlisted Abby’s assistance in spying on Kylie and Roger. What had seemed for all the world to be a match made in Heaven had quickly sputtered without explanation into brief and awkward visits from Roger, returning from his university on weekends. Kylie had appeared more and more troubled, and I’d vowed to fix their problem myself.

Abby reported back that Roger would sit around Kylie’s new apartment with a hang dog look on his face while Kylie would busy herself making dinners and tidying up the place, desperately avoiding any confrontation with her reluctant paramour. The tension seemed thick enough to cut with a knife.

Abby advised caution, saying that two people over the age of eighteen ought to be able to work out their differences between them. I would have none of that, because I knew Roger loved Kylie. He was just being stupid. So I wished oomph on Roger’s part, more passion to jump start romance. I used my power.

Abby was incensed with my interference, but could do nothing about it. After all, I was her Mistress, even if she refused to admit it to me, just as she refused to admit that she was secretly enjoying being a girl herself. I knew all this now because I could read her mind. All her male life, she had been miserable without really knowing why. She had taken it out on others and learned to be ruthless in her professional life. She had been a monster. Abby shuddered when she remembered the things she had done in that life. Now she was a girl! If only she wasn’t so short!

Subsequent reconnaissance had confirmed the Pixy’s worst fears. Roger, unable to fight the overwhelming attraction to Kylie had fled her apartment and returned to University. What I had not considered with my incredible intellect was that Roger had no lack of passion for Kylie. Abby contended that Roger was already afraid of his need of the woman his friend had become. The real problem was that he remembered only too well his male friend, Kevin. He was terrified that in the throes of passion with Kylie, he would remember those times and be repulsed. He knew that rejecting Kylie at such an intimate time would devastate her. He couldn’t do that to Kylie. He loved her too much.

So Roger had fled back to school without explanation, knowing that staying even a moment more in her presence would break down his resolve.

Of course, all Abby could honestly report were his actions. She told me what she believed his reasons were and how my interference had precipitated it all. But a thirteen-year-old genius does not want to be told they are wrong, especially as I was not about to pry into my brother’s mind to prove Abby mistaken.

Now, with this latest disaster at hand, I began to realize that my intellectual arrogance and newfound power had combined to mess up at least three lives. Oh, Mistress of the Universe, indeed! I vowed to never again thoughtlessly use my powers, tears obscuring my vision as I stumbled home.

“May I see Tom, Mrs. Jackson, please?”

I was standing at the Jackson’s front door, hoping to catch Tom at home after failing to find him at school today. It was Wednesday before Winter Break, and I did not have much time to make amends for what I’d done to Tom. If I missed him now I might not see him until after New Years. What might he do in his state if no one helped him? I knew he was frantic, because I’d asked Abby to help me find out what was going on when he did not show up at school after the incident yesterday. And by ask I meant ASK. I promised I would not use my power to try to fix Tom’s problem, before pleading with Abby to perform some minor spying on a voluntary basis.

I think that my contrition impressed Abby, because she smiled at me for the first time since I’d cursed Tom with an instant understanding of his special problem. Up until that moment he had just been an angry young man who hadn’t fit in anywhere, a not terribly unusual condition for a teenaged boy. Afterwards…there was a lost young woman who didn’t fit in anywhere, and was trapped in the body of a boy.

Abby agreed to check up on Tom, but made me promise again not to use my powers to “fix” him. He wasn’t broken. He was scared and alone and probably thought no one else in the world would understand. Most of all, Tom needed a friend.

It was like Abby was reading my mind, because I had been thinking precisely along those lines. I assured the pixy that was my intent, and my diminutive assistant blinked out on her mission of merciful espionage. Abby made it back to me as I walked home, so I rushed the last blocks to my house–stopping briefly at the local pharmacy for some supplies–and flew inside, causing mom to squawk something about who the tornado was as I passed out of earshot. I hurriedly threw a few things into a daypack and, shouldering the burden, ran back out the door, yelling out to mom that I was going to visit a friend. I swear she had the goofiest look on her face. As if I couldn’t have a friend!

So there I was, waiting impatiently for Mrs. Jackson to give me the okay when a voice from the second floor wailed out that they didn’t want to see anybody. Mrs. Jackson briefly glanced towards the stairs before leaning down to me.

“What’s your name, honey?”

“It’s Janelle, ma’am. I’m afraid I may be the cause of Tom’s recent unhappiness.”

A door slammed above us, making me jump.

Mrs. Jackson straightened up before taking me gently by the arm. “Tom has been unhappy for about as long as I can remember, Janelle. Yesterday was just the icing on the cake. He won’t talk to his father or me, and until just now he’s been crying his eyes out in his bedroom. I’ve been afraid that something was going to happen, but most of my nightmares revolve around Tom being picked up by the police, not crying in his room.”

Mrs. Jackson went down on her knees and only had to look up slightly to meet me eye to eye, making me acutely aware that I had yet to make it to five feet tall. My conversion to girl had given me some pleasing curves, but it hadn’t added to my height. I sighed as I realized I would probably always be petite.

“Dear, if there is anything you can do to help Tom, then please do it. What happened yesterday isn’t important, other than it seems to have brought my boy to a decision point. I don’t know what that is, but I’m pretty sure he can’t go back to the way things were. Please, just do what you can!”

Mrs. Jackson gave me a quick hug, then leaped up and rushed away. She wasn’t quick enough to hide her tears from me, however. Talk about pressure!

I climbed the stairs feeling like I was on my way to the gallows.

When I reached the door I hesitated. What if Tom wouldn’t speak with me? What if his door was locked?

“You promised not to use your power, Janelle,” Abby hissed at me, after popping into existence at my elbow.

“Against Tom. I promised not to use it on him. Besides,” I replied disingenuously, “this is a quantum sort of thing. Did Tom lock the door or not? He probably doesn’t even remember. Until we try…well, we just won’t know whether it is locked or not. So, I choose to believe that it is open. And see? It’s not locked!”

The door swung open as Abby gave me a last disgusted look before disappearing.

Tom was huddled on his bed, crying into his pillow. He had no idea I was in the room until I reached out and gently touched his shoulder.

I jumped when he shrieked like a little girl, then quickly backed away as he rose to confront me.
“What did you do to me?” he whispered, despair etched on his face.

I was speechless, unable to make a sound. What I’d done to him was unforgivable.

“It doesn’t matter,” he spoke, more to himself than to me, “It’s been wrong since forever. I just never admitted…well, what you made me see. Now, I can’t even look away. I’m a girl, for criminy’s sake! Stuck in this disgusting body.”

Tom looked me in the eyes. “From the moment I saw you I wanted to be your friend. I didn’t know why, I still don’t. Not really. It’s just that when I saw you I had this feeling that things could be different, that you could help me. When you wouldn’t even talk to me…”

Tom broke down and dropped back onto his bed. I sat beside him and held him in my arms, rocking gently back and forth. He hugged me back fiercely and we began to cry out all the pain a lifetime in the wrong body can bring to you. When the tears abated I pulled back and looked at Tom carefully. He wasn’t that much larger than I, and his features, while not as girlish as mine had been before the change, were still reasonably fine for what I had in mind. At thirteen, he still had no perceptible beard and his Adam’s apple was not noticeable.

This could work. I knew it in my heart.

“I promised someone–and myself–that I wouldn’t do anything like what I did to you yesterday when I made you see what your problem had been all this time. So, I have no magic to offer you. But I can do quite a lot with what you already have, and I can give you a glimpse of what you can be if you want to badly enough.”

“What do you mean…”

“Shush,” I replied, placing one slim finger on Tom’s lips. “Let Mama Janelle take care of you. Everything I do can be undone before I leave. I’m just showing you,” I said with a mysterious smile and a hand flourish, “possibilities.”

“But first, I need a name.”

“What name? What do you mean?”

“I am not going to call my best girlfriend Tom! I can come up with a name for you, but it would be nicer if you can think of one for yourself.”

“Oh. Oh! Uh…I always liked the name Candace.”

“Very nice, girl! Of course, the boys may be calling you Candy. And by the time I’m done with you, I think you’ll be some very nice eye candy indeed! Sure you want to stick with Candace?”

Candace squared her shoulders. “That’s the name I want. I’m not so sure about eye candy, though. I’ve never thought about any of this before. I don’t even know whether I like boys or girls.” My new friend looked at me solemnly and then continued, “This happened so fast! One moment I hated you for a reason I couldn’t even figure out and the next everything made sense to me, even if it did seem like a nightmare. All the anger and awkwardness was because who I was on the inside couldn’t come out. I couldn’t be the female that every other girl gets to be naturally. What you did to me…it was a real shock. But it was something I needed to know. Don’t get me wrong, I really don’t blame you. I just don’t know how to live my life now that I know who I’m supposed to be!”

I hugged Candace some more before once again looking deeply into her eyes.

“Not every girl is born into the correct body. Believe me, I know! But there is a lot that can be done, especially when all the changes hormones create haven’t had a chance to complete their work. I’m going to show you what you can do right now. After that…well, it’s going to take a lot of courage on your part, and we will have to talk to your parents. Not this instant! Don’t have a panic attack, Candace,” I say the last in a soothing voice as I realize my friend’s anxiety is ratcheting upwards. “Please, just let me show you what I can do right now.”

Candace gave me a tiny nod while looking like she would curl up in a ball at any moment, so I decided to move her into her adjoining bathroom immediately and get to work. Her room did not have adequate lighting for what I wanted to do, so the bathroom will have to do.

I sat Candace on the toilet–seat down, of course–and opened up my daypack. Thankfully, the vantage from her seat does not give a view of the mirror, as I wanted what I did to be a surprise for her. I don’t want her seeing any intermediate steps that might look “transitional” and scare her into backing out. There is enough boy in her look to make the unfinished product look off and confuse my new friend. But when I’m done…

I crossed my fingers behind my back just before I started in on Candace, praying I can do this without my magic.
 

“There! Now I want you to close your eyes while we put you in front of the mirror for your big reveal. I’ve only done up your face and tried a little light styling of your hair. No clothes yet, so just concentrate on looking at that beautiful face of yours. Okay?”

Candace nodded silently as she allowed me to raise her back up to her feet. I walked her over to the mirror and pointed her in the right direction. Her eyes were shut so tight that I thiought she was going to have cramps in her eyelids if she kept it up much longer.

“Oh, honey! It’ really is okay. Better than okay. I am not an expert beautician, but you’ve come out marvelously. I am so pleased with the way you look! Now, what I’ve done is give you a day look, something very natural and not obviously made up, while bringing out your inner beauty. Most girls at school either use no makeup or go way overboard, but you never see me doing that. I’ve paid a lot of attention to how my mother does her ‘look’ and I read a lot of magazines, so I know how to do subtle and I know how to make it age appropriate. That is very important, I might add! I shudder when I see a poor girl walking the school halls looking like she’s ready for an evening out at a bar! You, on the other hand, look like a fresh-faced young thing ready for a trip to the mall with her girlfriends. Wouldn’t you like to go to the mall and hang out…as a girl?”

I thought that I’d finally reached Candace with my last remark, as her eyes were beginning to relax. I began to see a sliver of beautiful green between her eyelids and then those astounding eyes popped open so wide I actually took a step back in startlement.

“That can’t be me!”

“Well, who did you just see speaking those words, Candace?”

“Um…uh…it is me!” Candace twirled around and gave me an enthusiastic hug that almost left me breathless. I made a mental note to start out her girl lessons immediately. Girls shouldn’t hug people into comas!

After breaking out of her bear hug, I went on to explain what I’d done for her with makeup and hairstyle. Her face had a light, non-greasy foundation that matched her coloration. (Lucky me to have it on hand! Okay, I cheated. I “found out” her colors before I hit the pharmacy, but I bought the makeup the non-magical way. Honest!) That was lightly powdered, the powder swept for proper blend. Next came the merest hint of blush along the cheeks to bring out her youthful liveliness without being obviously cosmetic. I lined her eyes carefully with a soft brown that went well with her large green eyes, making them even larger without any of the annoying raccoon effect so many girls our age fall into. No mascara or eye shadow for a daytime look at our age, of course. The final touch was a lip-gloss with just a hint of pink to help out her already attractive lips. Her eyebrows were not at all bushy and I’d left them alone. They would pass as is and any shaping would be too permanent for the moment, but I had taken a slight liberty with Candace’s hair. Her light brown hair was boy cut but rather long, and usually kept in a short ponytail. Nothing strange for a boy. All I did was release it from captivity and pull a bit forward for bangs. Those, I was forced to lightly trim for evenness, but was confident would be unnoticeable with a little gel and comb back. I brushed the rest, adding light spritzes to hold the volume I was adding. Evening out the ends and adding a gentle curl underneath gave Candace a very passable styling.

“So, you like it?”

“I love it, Janelle! It is, temporary, right? I can’t let my dad see me like this. No way!”

I held back a comment about how he would have to see Candace sometime in the future, opting for reassurance that everything could be undone and Tom would once again emerge. The look in Candace’s beautiful eyes told me everything I needed to know. There was relief from her fear of her father discovering Candace, but also a deep sadness that she could not stay permanently. I also noted that Candace had said nothing about her mother’s potential reaction to the new girl. I filed that away for the moment and asked my friend if she would like to see how she looked in proper clothes.

Candace hesitated briefly before nodding ever so slightly.

I gently explained that if she is to feel like a girl she needed to dress like one from the skin out. It’s more important to wear the correct underwear than outerwear. After all, we girls can do boy jeans and shirts if we want, but we still wear panties underneath, even if they are boy cut. I explained that if she really wants to look like a girl we will have to shave her underarms and her legs, but for today I have some things that would handle those aspects. For now, just the panties. I left Candace a simple white cotton bikini to put on after she takes her boy clothes off.

I waited in Candace’s bedroom, pulling out the next items I needed for the transformation, and looked about the room, wondering what she would change first about its look. Having made the switch myself less than two months before, my room was still in a state of flux. The walls would remain off-white at least until spring. I wanted that much time to see if I wanted to go full-on girly with something in a pink shade, perhaps. But the general décor was undergoing a bit of a makeover. I now had a vanity with lights for applying makeup, though I was under orders to keep it proper for a girl of thirteen. Sometimes I thought my mother didn’t trust me!

I was revamping my posters, adding a few cute boy and girl bands (like I said, I still wasn’t sure which way I would swing, but the hormones were getting things stirred up.) I had also added some adorable stuffed animals that I had previously been too embarrassed to contemplate leaving about. Being a girl was such fun!

But there were down sides as well, which was something I was just now beginning to realize. Even as a small boy, I had not been nearly as worried about the attentions of adults and older kids, at least in a sexual way. Now, every lingering glance made me self-conscious and wonder if I was being ogled.

Candace emerged hesitantly from the bathroom, and I realized that my ruminations had distracted me from the inordinate amount of time my new friend had been taking in putting on a simple pair of panties. She was obviously terrified of how she would look almost naked. I smiled encouragingly and Candace seemed to relax a little. Motioning her over I picked up the next item for her to put on, a simple white B-cup bra with a front fastening. (I know, you’re saying bad things about me right now. Liar, liar! The pharmacy did not have lingerie. Okay, I magicked a few things. I haven’t used any on Candace, so lay off my case!) I picked the front fastening for simplicity in getting it on and taking it off, not for any sexy factor.

Once I showed Candace how to don her bra I added two silicon inserts that filled it out nicely. They were approximately breast shaped and seemed like the real thing as far as their feel, but I had refrained from creating them too lifelike, since I did not know who might see them and start asking questions.

Candace’s legs had some fine hair that was not too noticeable, especially after she put on some skin-tone opaque tights. We added a simple, short-sleeved white blouse and a pleated green skirt the color of her eyes. The skirt came to just above her knees, meaning she would have to learn to keep her legs together while wearing it, but wouldn’t be constantly fighting the garment for her dignity. Some simple white pumps with a one-inch block heel completed her clothing and we added just a touch of jewelry: a cute charm bracelet around her left wrist and a slender chain with heart locket around her neck.

I was finally satisfied, so I had Candace wait while I went downstairs and asked her mom if there might be anything for an after-school snack. Mrs. Jackson gave me one look and realized that my contented look was one of success. She gave me a big hug and promised sandwiches and glasses of cold milk in just a mo.

I ran back upstairs and asked Candace if there was a full-length mirror in the house. She replied that there was one in her parent’s room. I gently guided her out of her room, letting her know that her mother was busy making us something to snack on. That seemed to startle her, but I reassure Candace that I could bring everything up to her room if she didn’t want to show her mom what we have been doing just yet. When we entered her mother’s room I made sure the lights were on and let Candace check herself out at her own pace. She was mesmerized, and so was I. The boy was gone, and not just in looks. Candace seemed to have found in moments the grace that I had been struggling with, despite knowing for years that I truly was a girl.

I took a big breath and decided it was time to push the envelope. “Candace, I want your mother to meet you.”

She looked at me with a funny expression on her face, and then just walked out of the room. I followed along as she descended the stairs.

Mrs. Jackson was just putting the last plate on the table when we entered, her back to us.

“Mama.”

That was all Candace said to her mother, a single word in a timbre not much different than Tom might have used, but the word was so much softer coming her lips. Then again, it may just have been the word itself that tipped off her mother.

Mrs. Jackson straightened from her task and slowly turned around. I could tell that she was carefully holding her expression neutral, though the corners of her mouth were trembling with tension.

“He…hello there, dear. You…look lovely.”

“I know this must be a shock to you, mama, but I finally realized why I have been so unhappy for as long as I can remember. Janelle here,” she said, looking at me with undeserved gratitude, “helped me see the truth.”

Candace moved smoothly in front of her mother, her astonishing grace startling me again. “Please, mama! This must be such a shock to you, but it is even more of one to me. I was really clueless! You know…if Janelle hadn’t helped me, I don’t know what would have happened to me. But I know what I want now, I really do! Can you love me as a daughter?”

Mrs. Jackson grabbed her daughter and hugged her fiercely, looking over her shoulder at me with hard questions in her eyes. Whether his mother had suspected anything of Tom’s unconscious leanings, she was clearly shocked at Candace’s rapid transformation. That made two of us.

I vowed to never again mess with anyone’s mind using my Chaos power. It was too uncertain for that sort of thing. Besides, it made me feel icky, like I was playing God, or something.

A God who was always making a mess of things.

“I’ll love you no matter what, dear! But I can’t keep calling you Tom, not dressed like that. Have you picked out a name yet? Or perhaps your friend has picked one out for you,” she said, looking at me with her piercing eyes. She obviously suspected that I’d done more than just be a friend to Candace. After all, her physical transformation paled in shock value to her amazing change in attitude, not to mention a minor gender reorientation! For all Mrs. Jackson knew, I’d hypnotized her boy into thinking he was a girl.

“Oh no, mom! I’ve always liked the name. That was my idea. Everything she has done for me, I’ve wanted it. Even if I wasn’t sure until we were done. But mama, what do we do about Pops?”

That last finally pulled Mrs. Jackson’s eyes away from me. I let out the breath I’d been holding and gratefully sucked in fresh air.

“I really don’t have an answer for that, dear. He’s…not very understanding about such things.”

Candace shuddered and hugged her mother tightly, though I noted that even with her obvious terror, Candace was giving girl hugs now. I had a strong feeling that when I wished for Tom to figure out what was bothering him I had managed to not only give him an acceptance of what he found but also the tools Candace needed to handle the transformation. Adding the makeup and clothes was the spark that set it off, but it surely would have started on its own if I hadn’t come by today.

“I…I guess that I’ll just have to pretend to be a boy when he is at home,” Candace said dejectedly. It was painfully obvious that now that Candy (yeah, I’m thinking of her as Candy already) had experienced girlhood she did not want to return to being a boy, even for a while.

“He’s on a long loop this time, honey. He won’t be back before Christmas Eve. Something about specialty parts needing to be delivered to various cities. We have that long.”

Mrs. Jackson looked at me over her daughter’s shoulder, this time with a bit more trust.

“My husband is a long haul trucker, an independent. It’s tough making a living nowadays that way, so he takes whatever comes his way and, if he has a choice, he picks what makes him the most money. He’s also extremely anti-gay.”

“I’m not gay, mom! I’m…I’m…”

“Transgendered, Mrs. Jackson. Like I am.”

Mrs. Jackson pulled Candace to her side to look at me better. I could see her disbelief, as she looked me up and down. Too young for the surgical route, I clearly had all my girl curves and none of the subtle tells that would have suggested my previous sex. My genius brain kicked in and I remembered some of the web sites I had found as a boy dreaming of somehow becoming a girl.

“I’m actually intersexed, Mrs. Jackson. I had the outward appearance of a boy, but the internal organs of a girl. Luckily, the doctors discovered the problem a couple of years ago and corrected the error. I’ve gone through puberty as a complete girl. That’s why I look so good. But you can see that Candy looks pretty fine right now. I know that you will want a psychologist who understands gender dysphoria issues to talk to Candace before you go any further.”

“I hope you believe me when I say,” I continued, tears misting my eyes, “that this is truly what she wants. Whatever you feel my part in this was, please believe me about that.”

Candace pulled one arm away from her mother, motioning for me to join their hug, and I wasted no time in rushing into her welcoming embrace. I felt Mrs. Jackson encircle us both and melted into their embrace. We basked in that mutual love-fest for what seemed like hours, but could only have been a few minutes, when Candace suddenly pulled away.

“What about school! And…and Pops!”

My brain had been on idle while we group hugged, so now I kicked it back into gear and thought through some possibilities even as I asked a first question, “I take it that going back to school as Tom isn’t exactly what you want?”

“Not really. I suppose I could wear the clothes and pretend to be a boy for a while longer, but the real problem is who I was as a boy. I don’t want to be someone like that, and if I go back to school looking like that person there will be a lot of people who expect…well you know how I acted. Some people would even beat me up if I don’t act tough and…and obnoxious.”

Candace was looking quite distressed, even wringing her hands as she spoke as if she wanted to rid herself of her past at any cost. The Chaos Magic I unleashed with my heated comment yesterday was frightening. Despite my conviction that this new girl was truly the person Tom had to become to be happy, I feared that my meddling might have precipitated a crisis that would be difficult, if not impossible, to resolve.

How could I “fix” this problem?

“Easy, girl! I’m thinking about what we can do. Give me a moment or two.”

Mrs. Jackson looked like she wanted to say something at that point, but I held up a hand, silently asking for the time I had requested. She remained silent, perhaps so overloaded by implausibility at this point that she had simply suspended disbelief. After the impossible transformation of her troubled son into this delicate young woman, she seemed ready to believe that a thirteen-year-old girl could come up with a solution to their dilemma.

The fact that Candace did not want to be Tom, even for a short while, greatly reduced my possible solutions. I sighed heavily as I realized I would have to fix Chaos Magic with more magic. Only this time I would avoid applying it directly to people.

“I have to get something from my pack. I’ll be right back. Why don’t you two enjoy the snacks? Won’t be but a moment!”

I rushed out before anyone could ask questions of me. Racing up the stairs two at a time, I barely managed the turn into Candace’s bedroom without face planting.

“Abby! I need you now!”

The pixy popped into existence, her arch expression nearly breaking my resolve not to meddle with people’s insides. Her superior manner was not what I needed at the moment.

“Okay, you were right. I really messed up with Candace. But she knows what she wants now, so I intend to help her out. Make amends, so to speak, for what I did. My question for you is, could you get into your old headquarters and get a new ID for Candace, along with doctored records. You know, school, birth, social security…”

“Hold up, there! Are you asking me for my help? Like you did when I spied on Tom, er, Candace?”

“Yes I am. I’m not even sure if what I want to do is the best thing for Candace, but I have to do something. So I am asking you if you can do this, but I am also asking if I should. We could give her a new identity just as the organization did for Kylie. Tom is the Jackson’s only child, so he’ll have to disappear. Maybe a phony witness protection? I don’t know right now, you decide what is easiest. Then new records for a long lost daughter by the name of Candace, perhaps?”

Abby looked at me as if I had grown two heads. “We can’t do a witness protection angle, because no one would buy that a minor of Tom’s age was sent off without his parents. Besides, having two long lost daughters showing up in the same town is a bit of a stretch. No, we’ll do a straight swap of cousins. Tom is going to his drill sergeant uncle who has managed to raise a model young daughter, and the daughter will come out here due to the slightly better protections for a transperson in the public schools.”

I rolled my eyes at Abby’s swap idea, but then decided that we needed something fast. “Okay, fine. But can you get all the records we’ll need?”

“Sure,” Abby said as she performed a dainty pirouette. “I can get them made up this Sunday when the office will be nearly deserted. I should still have a few high-level passwords available to pull it together and hide the back trail. I can have hardcopy in hand and an electronic record that should hold up under ordinary scrutiny.”

Abby executed several quick petite cabrioles to each side, and then came to a motionless en pointe position.

What a showoff, I thought. Then I remembered the hulking Agent Black and nearly laughed imagining him trying the same thing. I sobered up when I realized that it was probably those same sorts of thoughts that had caused the agent such pain that he had to take it out on the whole world. Before her change I would never have believed that Agent Black had wanted to be a ballerina. I thought of what Tom might have become in 30 years if he had never had this opportunity before him.

Reining in my thoughts I concentrated on what needed to be done now. “Okay, Candace will have to miss school for the last two days before Christmas break. She’ll have her records to start right after the New Year. That gives us some time. For the moment, I need a business card.”

“Business card?”

Hah! Finally fooled my pixy!

I suppressed a smile and explained to Abby that she was going to be a federal agent who was my favorite uncle in the whole wide world, one who would do just about anything for me. Mrs. Jackson was to call him tomorrow after I talked to him and then everything would be taken care of.

“So how am I going to look like a Big Person again, not to mention a male?”

“That’s easy! I will create a glamour that will make you look and sound like an important agent who can Get Things Done.”

My brain was working at warp speed, trying to get this all figured out before I had to rush back down to see Candace and her mom. I imagined a cell phone for Abby and one appeared, pink and pixy petite with a bluebell ear bud for a professional, hands-free ability. Abby looked at me cross-eyed and I explained that the phone would have a glamour on it as well when she meets the Jackson’s. One last Chaos wish and I am the proud bearer of my big Uncle George’s “official” business card. It says nothing about his uber-security mogul status, while appearing very Official and Important. Just the thing to impress.

I raced down to the kitchen and joined the Jackson’s for some food, plopping the card down at Candace’s side.

“Sorry it took so long! I called Uncle George and explained the situation to him. He understands, since he was my biggest supporter when I was having problems but we hadn’t yet figured out that I was intersexed. If you promise to tell NO ONE, he can get some new ID and school records for Candace, making her a cousin of Tom’s. He suggested the cover story of Tom going to live with his uncle to learn discipline and Candace coming here to live, since the laws are a little better here on protecting transsexual’s in the public schools. We can’t get around Candace’s birth sex, so we go with it this way. I know it won’t be easy, but it is the best my uncle and I could come up with.”

I could tell that Mrs. Jackson wasn’t completely buying my cover story. She knew I had a hand in Candace’s transformation and having an Uncle George is awfully convenient. Still, as long as I kept to my story, she would have no way of figuring out the truth. Let her think me a witch, or any silly thing her mind can come up with, just so long as she never suspects that I control Chaos Magic. If word of that ever got back to the Organization there would be more than questions coming my way again, and this time I might HAVE to fight the US Government. Besides, if I succeeded at getting Candace new ID, I was sure her mom would not want to broadcast that information around.

Candace’s look of pleading broke through Mrs. Jackson’s resistance. She agreed after we discussed some more details, details that I would sort out afterwards, though I didn’t tell them that at the time. I made like Uncle George had it all covered. Minor details like a school district that would be accepting Tom’s records for the transfer, even though we all knew there would never be a Tom arriving. And same district being available for any follow-up questions for Candace’s records. It may keep Abby busy, but I figured it would do her good to watch for mail pertaining to Tom or Candace from our school and “fixing” it to properly reflect the new reality I was creating on the fly.

Mrs. Jackson was still worried about her husband and his reaction, and I could tell that Candace was actually terrified when she thought of her father coming home to discover her looking like a girl. I was stumped for the moment, as I had promised myself that I would not mess with people’s heads anymore. I can’t just fix him. We had until Christmas Eve, so I promised the two that we would think of something. Since it was obvious to Candace’s mom that her girl was not about to go back to living as the awful Tom, she agreed reluctantly, giving me a stern look. I can tell that she expected another miracle out of me, and that failure would bring down her wrath. I was thinking right about then that I’d put my foot in it for sure. If I can’t make this work all heck is going to break out.

I promised once more and was relieved when Mrs. Jackson seemed to accept my word. I got the funny feeling that Janelle Carter, Miracle Worker, had been born.

Candace and her mother decided on a quick shopping trip tonight for clothes and the other accoutrements necessary for a girl of 13, while reserving the bulk of their efforts for Thursday and Friday. I promised to come by Friday afternoon to visit and we parted ways.

“So now I’m Uncle George? Why, I should put you across my knee and spank you right through those pretty little panties you so adore!”

“Please, Abby! I know I’m in deep. Besides, you couldn’t hold me on that tiny lap of yours. For whatever reason, when Chaos made you, it made you the way I think a pixy should be. You can appear any size up to true pixy height, but no larger. Even though I’m sure you could deliver any level of pain you choose, I’m already feeling miserable about what I’ve done to Candace. I don’t need any reminders from my backside that I screwed up.”

“Well, it’s going to take some stealthy work on my part to get all the documents and records fixed to create Candace without my old compatriots sussing out the fact that someone has been inside their security. But I can do it, so don’t worry your pretty head about that. The real problem is Candace’s dad. Turn him into a frog, perhaps? They could keep him as a pet and report Mr. Jackson as missing. The old Agent Black would suggest something like that. He felt like a frog most of his life.”

“You know I won’t do that, Abby. I also will not mess with his head. I’ve done enough damage that way already. I’ve got two problems to deal with now and no idea what to do.”

“Yeah. Candace and her dad, Roger and Kylie. A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

I actually liked to watch some of the old, old reruns, so I got the reference to Laurel and Hardy. I also noticed that Abby wasn’t including herself in my problem. It didn’t matter. She was my pixy, courtesy of the Chaos Magic before it entered my body. I’d tried to free her of her pixy size without success. And as far as her serving me, it had seemed the only way at first to ensure she didn’t go back to the Chaos Investigation Agency and blab out my whole story to them. As time went by, I realized she was enjoying being a girl, even if her size rankled.

I had the feeling that Abby’s protestations were more pro forma than real. If I asked sincerely, she would help me of her own accord. That suited me just fine, as I was quickly growing tired of ordering her around. Being a dictator was just not my style.

“Give me some time, Abby. I will figure something out.”

“Well, you’re the genius. Let me know when you have a clue.”

Abby winked out before I could come up with a retort. I didn’t feel like calling her back to chastise her for my own failings, so I let it go as I pondered my dilemma. I made it home and hugged my mom before running off to my room, still deep in thought.