STRANGE  CHANGE

1

THE DREAM OF THE WINGED MONKEYS

Standing at his open locker and tightly clutching his gym bag, 14-year-old Trenton Letreque, a popular student at Lakefield High School, knew he could do it. Knew it the moment the childhood memory seared his mind like a lightning bolt two weeks ago. A memory provoked by an advertisement for the annual showing of The Wizard Of Oz, with several scenes from the classic film, one of which was the winged monkeys flying to the wicked witch’s dark, monolithic castle.

His eyes shifted to the full-color Wal*Mart ad, big red letters emblazoned across the top screaming, BACK TO SCHOOL SPECIAL! torn from the Chicago Tribune’s Sunday Supplemental Magazine and scotch-taped inside his locker. Way inside. In the very back where it would be obscured from the view of passersby when he hung his gym bag on the hook just above it. He had taped it there so he could see it every time he went to his locker. He’d been staring at it for a week.

The cute, dark-haired green-eyed girl in the ad wore a frilly blue party dress with ruffles around the short-sleeved cuffs, identical to the dress he’d purchased only yesterday. The one which was now secreted in his gym bag along with a rather dainty pair of girl’s panties, simple white lace socks and a pair of girl’s black patent leather shoes. She was probably a ninth-grader too, he’d guessed when he first opened the newspaper and saw the ad last Sunday. Probably 14. Just like him.

Trenton Letreque had first seen The Wizard Of Oz and the image of the winged monkeys on TV when he was three. That had been a long time ago, but now the dream of the winged monkeys had been vividly re-etched into his 14-year-old mind. Now, for the first time in his life he realized what had happened. The wailing scream that startled him awake. His mother dropping to the floor with a loud thump as he sat bolt-upright in bed. His father rushing into the room while he sat there groggy, confused, blinking against the sudden flood of light when the switch was snapped on.

Then daddy on one knee beside mommy, gently lifting her head as she came to and began babbling incessantly about the winged monkey that had been thrashing about in her son’s bed. How it startled his three-year-old mind to realize he’d been dreaming he was what she claimed she had seen! He’d been flying. In a dream. As a winged monkey in a squadron of winged monkeys. And all at once he knew what had happened all those years ago. He had actually become what he so vividly dreamed he was. A winged monkey.

With this startling revelation two weeks ago so many ancient memories came flooding back. So many things all at once made sense! Like the way Mr. Brezniak, proprietor of the candy store in the downtown district of Chicago’s West Suburban Community of Lakefield, had always given him whatever he was wishing for on those rare occasions when he came through the door without any money. And this without the boy ever asking. Toys, candy, ice cream. Whatever. And never so much as even a hint that the merchandise proffered was a loan. Never so much as a suggestion that any kind of pay-back should be forthcoming. It was all just given freely. Joyfully.

Curiously, it had never occurred to the lad to question why. Perhaps because in a way he knew. It wasn’t just the old man. It seemed everyone everywhere, parents, friends and teachers included, deferred to him. For some inexplicable reason he was special. He never thought to question why. It just was. What a lucky guy.

And then there was the summer when he turned ten and was left alone with his 13-year-old cousin, Angela, from his mother’s side of the family. There was going to be some sort of backyard party that afternoon and all the adults were off on errands of preparation, getting watermelon, corn-on-the-cob, Charcoal, beer, soda, pretzels, whatever.

Sprawled comfortably on the floor, they were watching cartoons on TV. Or rather, she was watching. All he could think about was her tits. They were really starting to bud-out and he was intensely curious as to what they looked like in the flesh. He didn’t say anything, of course, all he did was think about it. A bit obsessively perhaps, but the next thing he knew he was reflecting that it was hot and wouldn’t it be cool if girls could take off their shirts just like guys could?

He giggled with the thought, imagining her standing up and peeling off her shirt just so, when she announced she was hot, stood up, peeled off her shirt just so and plopped back down on the sofa with nothing between his eyes and the rosy nipples of her tits except thin air.

In any case, by this time he was discovering that he had amazing powers of perception and persuasion. To the point that he could perceive the thoughts of others before they were spoken, or even if they were never spoken at all. And not unlike a ventriloquist’s ability to throw his voice, he could throw his thoughts into another’s mind and compel the individual to do his bidding to an absolutely astonishing degree.

Of course not everyone was as easy to sway as his cousin Angela or Mr. Brezniak down at the candy store. Individuals, as varied as the sands of the sea, had widely varying levels of susceptibility to Trenton Letreque’s powers. Furthermore, their susceptibility was proportionally affected by the extremes of whatever it was Trenton was compelling them to do.

Nevertheless, much to his delight he was quickly learning that with him it wasn’t really a matter of wishing or persuading, but rather of taking a strong, psychically commandeering position. To Trenton’s amazement his poor victim was almost always rendered utterly helpless to resist his silently dictated demands. As if the individual fell under some sort of odd spell. And the more he exercised his strange powers, the easier it got for him and the greater his powers became.

As a result, his parents were practically his servants, his friends as subjects to royalty. In short, whatever Trenton Letreque wanted, Trenton Letreque got—merely for the asking. Or, as he was quickly discovering, in some cases for the demanding, depending on how extreme his wishes were. And by the sixth grade his wishes were getting pretty extreme.

Like the time when he was 12, two years after his experience with his cousin Angela. There was a bully at the YMCA whom he greatly disliked. In the locker room at the close of a swim session after everyone had showered-off, through fierce concentration Trenton compelled the young bully to forget about his clothes. Striding through the lobby, the boy was out the door and on the street before he realized the shocked stares, grins and laughter were due to the fact that he was walking down the sidewalk in downtown Lakefield in the nude.

All of this and more, plus the TV ad for the annual MGM classic which had sparked the brilliant blaze of memory when he was three and had actually, physically become the creature he dreamed himself to be convinced Trenton. He had extraordinary powers, the full extent of which he was only just beginning to realize. And the truth was becoming startlingly apparent. He had only to believe and if he concentrated hard enough he could become anything he could imagine himself to be. Anything. He could transform. He was sure of it.

For a long time he stared at the cute, dark-haired green-eyed girl in the Wal*Mart ad. All week long with a mixture of fear and excitement he’d been contemplating what he intended to do. Now, at long last it was Friday. And it was time to act.

With heart pounding in excited anticipation he carefully unstuck the magazine ad from the gray metal locker, tucked it inside his gym bag with the frilly blue dress and other girl things, flipped the locker door closed with a bang and went looking for a place to hide. Trenton Letreque had to concentrate. And he needed somewhere to change.

STRANGE  CHANGE

2

THE  GIRL  OF  HIS  DREAMS

Trenton Letreque had to hurry. He’d slipped out of study hall on the flimsy pretense that he wasn’t feeling well and wanted to see the school nurse. But what he really wanted to see was Amy Singleton taking a shower. And Betty “Bazooka Bets” Brighton’s tits, of course. She had the biggest knockers in the whole school. And both girls, the love of his life (although she didn’t know it) and the one with the big bazookas, were in the same phys-ed class. A class in session while he was in study hall.

And now he had to hurry because he only had about 30 minutes left before the girls’ gym class would be stampeding into the locker room for the obligatory shower before changing. And he intended to be there. What a lucky guy.

He had been carefully planning this for a week, and each day during the entire preceding week he had made it a point on his way to and from study hall to stop in at the school’s physical plant and the small locker room that was the domain of the school’s custodial staff. And every day the custodial locker room, with its full-length cracked mirror, single shower stall, single row of lockers with a little table in the middle scattered with playing cards and a dirty ashtray, was utterly deserted.

Now, cautiously ducking into the physical plant, he crept stealthily past mammoth boilers, 55 gallon drums of cleaning solvent, floor wax, and dust mops hanging on the wall, to the dirty little room at the rear. He found the hovel to be exactly as anticipated—relievably deserted.

Setting the gym bag on the small table, he turned, stood before the mirror, gazed at his reflection and wondered if he wasn’t just a bit crazy. Could he really change from a 14-year-old boy with bright auburn hair, wide blue eyes, short nose with flared nostrils, even white teeth highlighted by sun-browned rosy cheeks, into the pale, alabaster-complected green-eyed girl with wavy chestnut-brown hair? Momentarily chuckling with the thought, he turned back to the gym bag, unzipped it and withdrew the Wal*Mart ad.

With hands trembling their excitement (fear??) he carefully unfolded the paper and stared unblinking at the image of the pale girl with the long brown hair and green eyes. Stared until the image was clearly etched in his mind. Concentrated with all his might. Concentrated until he became oblivious to time and place. Until his arms hurt from holding forth the single page torn from the magazine. Concentrated until he was convinced the image of the girl was an image of himself. Until the image was so vividly fixed within his mind that he would see the image of the girl staring back at him from the mirror when he lowered the piece of paper.

With the light, cool absence of the bulge in his jockey shorts, and the feeling of burgeoning breasts pushing tightly against his T-shirt, Trenton knew he was changing. He could feel it. Everywhere.

For one confused moment he stood there blinking, not even realizing he had lowered the slick, creased paper—until he noticed the cute, pale, green-eyed girl was not dressed in a frilly blue dress, but in a black and gold Rock The World T-shirt and blue jeans.

Gasping in disbelief, he staggered back, almost fainting, caught his balance and whipped off his shirt to gaze upon two perfectly formed breasts with pink, rose-petal nipples turned up towards the North Star. Absently dropping the T-shirt, the dumbfound boy reached up to test the weight of his new breasts and run his fingers over the nipples, which immediately sent bursts of electric pleasure right down to his.…

When Trenton instinctively stuck his hand down the front of his jeans and reached for himself he couldn’t believe it. His genitals were gone! As the wispy soft pubic hair of a developing adolescent girl slid through his fingers, the smooth, slotted mound grew larger and harder and wet.

Slipping an exploratory finger inside, he gasped for breath at the sensation, his heart pounding wildly at the realization that he was the girl he was fingering! Wow. And boy, girls could feel stuff and get hard too. They weren’t missing out on a thing!

And he might have stood there for quite some time exploring this strange new body, too, if he hadn’t suddenly noticed the clock. Holy cow! It had taken him over 20 minutes to make this strange change. Wondering why it had taken so long, it crossed his mind that perhaps with practice he could get faster at it, but these thoughts were quickly relegated to the back burner of his brain as he realized he had less than five minutes to get to the locker room.

Getting there and in the shower before the class came in was essential to his plan because then he’d be in the shower and out of sight of Miss Robbins, the instructor, should she come into the locker room with the girls. By then, of course, he’d be lost in the steam and gaggle of girls that would shortly fill the showers. Even so, there was still the possibility that he might somehow be confronted with Miss Robbins, but he had a contingency plan for that too, should it occur.

Kicking out of his sneakers, he quickly pulled off his jeans, shorts and socks, snatched the girl stuff out of the bag, jumped into the panties, pulled the dress on over his head and got into the black patent leather shoes.

Ah, Perfect fit! he thought as he straightened the dress before the mirror. Quickly throwing his jeans and other stuff into the gym bag, he hurried from the physical plant and down the hall to the girls’ locker room.

He got there just in time. No sooner had he located a vacant locker, tossed the gym bag in, quickly got out of his girl clothes and into the shower room, than the first bell rang, reverberating through the empty locker room like a swarm of angry hornets. Then, just like in his most fervent dreams of the last week, the locker room filled with laughing girls, shrieking girls, girls engaged in horseplay, naked girls snapping towels and banging lockers.

Betty with the Bazookas strutted by in all her naked glory. And little Amy Singleton. Her tits, in fact her whole body, was perfect, with its little thatch of blonde pubic hair. A sure testimonial that the beautiful blonde curls adorning her lovely head were not from a bottle.

More girls, fat girls, thin girls, titless girls, girls with huge triangular bushes and girls without any bushes at all quickly filled the shower room with steam and jets of hissing water from 16 shower heads. And he was right in the middle of it all. Right in the middle of 32 naked adolescent girls!

And then Betty with the Bazookas yelled above the din, “Hey, who’s the new girl!?”