[KeithXZ]

Very good story Wachsende.  I also generally prefer a plot, character development, and usually that means gradual growth. 

I'm anxious to read more.

[acuteoblique]

I agree with KeithXZ.  Very good!

[Wachsende]

Starting to move the pieces into place now.

Small Changes [Part 2]
by Wachsende

AUGUST 2013

I felt the cold turquoise water sting my eyes as it paralyzed my short, speedy descent. Flipping over to my back as I closed in on the black and white checker board tile at the bottom, I saw the blurry outline of a figure with dark hair in a sky blue one-piece towering above.
She'd gotten me in less than a minute this time.
Even combining our efforts, Connor and I hadn't once managed to heft Sarah into the pool since I'd gotten back from the Cape. Only in the last couple days had she thought to turn the tables.
As I hoisted myself up the sparkling metal ladder for the third time in a row, I gladly took the hand offered out to me. My feet touching concrete, I looked straight ahead into a pair of nostrils slid gracefully under a cute little button nose. My eyes only had to travel up a couple inches to find those familiar eyes which so matched her bathing suit. Her dark eyebrows had reached maximum height against burnt red skin as her firm, one handed grab pulled me the rest of the distance.
"C'mon, I think I've humiliated you enough for one day. You may be lucky enough to tan, but Connor and I are positively crispy. And I'm famished."
I exchanged a quick look with my equally scarlet best friend, a couple feet off, as she twirled around and set off for the snack bar. Over the last two weeks, both of us had quickly gotten used to the "suggestions" she had started making without any room for a response. But this was our second trip to the snack bar today. And my mom said I had a bottomless appetite.
Still no one could call Sarah overweight. Until puberty had kicked her into overdrive, Sarah had always been a wisp of a girl. While her features had begun to round out a bit this summer, she was still skinny. Indeed, looking around the grass and concrete landscape, she was still probably one of the smaller girls her age. Some of the incoming freshmen were positively monumental.
The two of us were still lost in our thoughts when Sarah returned, a massive burger in one hand and a thing of fries in the other. She didn't offer to share.
"I wondered where you two went off to. I'm all set; let's go."
Connor looked ready to take umbrage at being treated like a five-year-old by a sibling two years his junior. By the time he got his mouth open, though, Sarah was already halfway to the exit and well out of earshot. I shrugged at him and waved him forward with an "after you" motion. There was no place else I was going to hang out. And as I recalled, it hadn't been that long ago that we'd taken her similarly for granted.
Once she'd tossed away her wrappers, we headed to their backyard, where the tree house was slowly resolving itself into one of the more prodigious examples of its species. Heavy scraps that Connor and I had earlier dismissed out of hand as being impractical were finding their way into the project under Sarah's direction. With a concerted effort and surprising deftness, she managed to lift up pieces that it took the two of us to handle with confidence. By the time September rolled around, it was like having a fourth person.
Once she had decided it was complete enough, our days were spent more evenly divided between bike rides and the pool. Connor and I took no longer really put up a fight when she decided to dunk us into the pool. Either of us could still drag it out a minute or two if we wanted to, but mostly we ceded to the inevitable with what we hoped was a convincing attempt at good humor. Our bike rides took us further and further out of town as the first leaves started changing colors. I had started to notice that Sarah had begun slowing down occasionally to let us catch up.

* * *

SEPTEMBER 2013

Inevitably, the first Thursday in September came as it always does. Connor and I walked up to the familiar corner to see a flurry of familiar and unfamiliar faces — many dark like mine, a few burnt and peeling like Connor's.
He was the one who noticed it first.
"Hey, where are all the other guys at?"
I glanced over the clothes and hair of the kids nearest us. All were undeniably feminine. Only as we closed the remaining distance did we begin to understand why. Clearly Sarah and the girls at the pool were not an isolated fluke. The closer we got, the taller these girls appeared. I waved to Mary Lyles, a cute girl from my homeroom last year. She returned my wave and my smile. By the time we reached her, I realized my head could comfortably fit underneath her chin. I was reminded forcibly of the prom last spring, except this time none of the girls were wearing heels.
As we waded through the forest of teenage girls, we found a couple pockets of our male classmates. Whatever first explorations between the genders had begun at the end of the last school year had clearly been waylaid over the summer. That intangible recalculation that had permeated our neighborhood games during the summer pervaded this crowd with particularly potent intensity, married to unspoken feelings of fear and unease. Small talk that should have come naturally felt unbearably belabored.
When the bus finally rolled around the corner, the mass of students exhaled in relief.
Whatever truths the sleep away campers had discovered over the summer, they were clearly not the sort that Connor and I had imagined.

[KeithXZ]

This is coming along great, Wachsende!

I'm looking forward to where this goes next.

[Wachsende]

These changes are starting to be felt in a very real way.

Startling Implications [Part 3]
by Wachsende

SEPTEMBER 2013

"Any luck with Emily?" Bob Wilkens whispered to his best friend, Jerry.
Jerry let out a heavy sigh. "Well, the last time out on the lake, I got my best time ever."
Bob looked surprised. "Well, that's perfect, right?"
Jerry. "I thought so, and she certainly made a good show of being enthusiastic. But when I checked the boards, she'd already beat my time by a good minute and a half."
Bob shook his head sympathetically. "How are we supposed to compete with girls like that?"

I craned my neck back around to facing forward. Clearly Connor had heard the same thing I had. He wasn't as surprised as he would have been a few months ago.
I looked around the bus. There were the tops of boys' heads jutting over some of the seats. There were head and necks visible from the girls. The chatter continued.

* * *

December 2013

I staggered forward into Billy Tompkins from the impact of the collision, my empty lunch tray clattering to the floor. I turned around hastily, to find myself staring at a particularly fine example of a collarbone. A high, sing-songy voice rang down from on high.
"Oh sorry! I didn't see you there! That's the second time I've done that this week."
She leaned over for what seemed like forever and retrieved my tray. Seeing the head as it closed in on the ground, I recognized a familiar pink headband. It was Marissa Perata, who I've had a crush on since sixth grade. She'd always been a klutzy little kid.
"Oh shit, it's dirty! Here, take mine. It's easier for me to get another one."
A long arm rose out of nowhere and set the dirty tray on top of the display. Another guided a clean tray in my general direction, albeit a foot higher than strictly necessary. The arms were quickly followed by a torso and head, which rose up, up, and away. Her hips were level with the counter. My eyes traveled reluctantly up past said hips, which had rounded out rather spectacularly over the last few months up past a chest which had started to do likewise, past that long thin neck, over an adorable apologetic smile, to the friendly hazel eyes which were hovering just above the top of my head.
I realized I still hadn't taken the tray.
"Thanks Marissa! Did you take the quiz in Mr. Wolanski's class yet?"
"Oh! No… sorry. I don't have Mr.  Wolanski for English this year. I'm dreading the bio quiz though."
"If it's any consolation, Mrs. Harris's entire second period class assures me they failed it, so odds are good she'll throw it out."the
Connor nudged me. The line had moved, and Crabface — the sagging old lunch lady, a vision in her weathered hair net and smokey yellow dress – was getting impatient. I flashed the tiny old shrew a meek smile, placed my order and returned my attention to Connor and the procession of towering female figures in front of him, all starting to curve out in similarly flattering ways.

* * *

Two inches of snow had already fallen before my parents convinced me to run a Christmas basket over to the Flynns next door. I had a shallow coating of snow on my hat and shoulders by the time the big maroon door swung open and the bright light and warmth poured out.
Sarah had opened the door. At first, I thought I might have stopped a step short, because I was making eye contact with her chin. As Connor rush to join her in the doorway, I realized that this was not the case.
He'd always been a couple inches taller than me, and had remained a hair taller than her even through the end of the summer. Standing side by side in their slippers, his eyes only came up to her mouth.
They waved me into the foyer. Sarah took the basket from me and brought into their living room, where the Christmas tree was set up. Connor set in with detailed complaints about every one of his visiting relatives. I followed him into the living room, illuminated by the reddish glow of the technicolor evergreen in the corner. From the armchair across the room, Mr. Flynn's hand popped up out from behind his newspaper in distracted greeting. Mrs. Flynn pulled me into a quick tight hug and launched into a fast-paced greeting.
"Oh, how are you? Enjoying your vacation? I heard Connor and you had a great time sledding down at the golf course. Are you eating enough? You've got that same pinched look that Connor has; Sarah's been eating like there's no tomorrow. Oh, a cheese basket! Your parents didn't have to do that!"
"They were happy to do it, Mrs. Flynn. After you guys watched our cat last month…"
"Oh nonsense, that's what neighbors are for. There was no need to get us anything… Sarah, can you dig out the presents for the Kleins."
Her own objections to gift giving apparently aside, she grabbed three wrapped boxes from her daughter's arms and shoved into mine.
"Take these over to your parents, dear."
She walked me back to the door, pausing every couple of steps for an admonishment or invitation, her youngest child in tow. She finally got distracted by a mess in the dining room and left me on my own to clear the last couple feet to the door. From behind, Sarah gave my shoulder a squeeze that was undoubtedly intended to be affection, but felt rather harder than she'd likely aimed for.

* * *

June 2014

I waited ahead of Connor to exit the bus, our sophomore year finally over at last. Ahead, the girls ? many only freshmen ? were hunched over in the aisle to stay below the curved ceiling. As each crossed through the folded up doors, they seemed to visibly expand and unfold, finally free of a cage that had become much too small. From the street corner, the masses scattered in every direction as the two of us set off down the same old familiar stretch of road. Connor had turned sixteen in May and my birthday was in July, so we had more than enough car talk to last the journey.
At his house, we got snacks from the pantry and plopped down on the floor in his living room, the Christmas tree having been replaced by one of the presents underneath it ? a 48" flatscreen television. We were in the middle of a heated battle in Halo 2 went I heard the front door swing open then slam shut. Connor stabbed me from behind as I turned around to greet the new arrival. Sarah wandered in, her backpack bouncing lighting on her back, stopping in the doorway as I waved hello. The top of her head cleared the doorway by a mere two inches.
"Hey sis," Connor called out distractedly, still facing the television.
"Hey! You guys playing Halo? I'm in!" she said as she stalked into the room, throwing her bag casually on the couch. She plopped down right next to her brother, slid the controller neatly from his hands, and pushed him aside with a quick sideways trust from her hips.
"What the hell! I wasn't done!" he spat at her profile.
"You can have it back when I'm done. Klein! Watch out, I'm about to kill you!" I glanced over at Connor. Though clearly unhappy, he made no move to counteract his little sister's assertion of power. I resumed play, feeling rather awkward doing so, glancing over ever so often at my best friend sulking in the corner.
After two hours of play, I had to go home for supper. I grabbed my bag and stood up to leave. Sarah got up as well to walk me out. By the time she rose to her full height, my eyes were only level with the bottom of her neck. I was already through the doorway when, as an afterthought, she tossed the controller at Connor. "See? I told you I'd give it to you when I was done." Rolling her eyes at her brother's apparent impatience, she followed me out to the foyer.
As I started down their front walk, she called out to my from the top step of her porch.
"You should swing by after you finish dinner. Maybe we can rent a movie."
The implications were startling. Had she just stolen me away from Connor like she had the controller? Did I really want to be her best friend? Did I have a choice?

[Hunter S Creek]

Great idea and great story, Wachsende!

Looking forward to more!

Tschuss!
Hunter

[Fonk]

Things look like they're hotting up for our main man… looking forward to more, and thanks for this great part!

[JimmyDimples]

Sorry I hadn't checked this out earlier… great stuff!  Can hardly wait to see what develops in the next part.

[KeithXZ]

This is going really well.  I can't wait to read more.

[Wachsende]

[This section took me a long time to write, and a long time to come
to terms with. It will probably be controversial both for the ages
of the characters and the questions it raises. Men are still men,
women are still women, boys are still boys, and girls are still
girls — even when the balance of physical power has been totally
reversed. I set out to write this section with the protagonist
exploring the territory toward a completely different character.
I came to the realization that in this world has advanced to the
point where males like the protagonist would no longer be in a
position to be proactive but must instead be entirely reactive.
That change in turn led to questions about what else would change.
Most GTS fiction I've read allows the growth to serve as a total
liberation from responsibility. I strongly disagree with that. I
also came to the conclusion that the things that make a man a real
man still exist even when he has been entirely stripped of his
physical power. From that perspective, Part 4 is a true coming of
age story for our protagonist. Sorry if I kill any one's buzz, but
these are issues I had to deal with as a writer, and decisions
that had to be made by these characters.

Without further ado…]

Crossing Boundaries [Part 4]
by Wachsende

I stood in the cereal aisle, my hands on the handle of the shopping cart. The emerging curves of a young woman's back filled the center of my field of vision, silhouetted in the pale lavender fabric of a loose t-shirt. A long, graceful arm easily snatched a box of Apple Jacks from the top shelf and tossed it into the cart.
The high tones of a young girl's voice rang down distractedly from above. "Okay, that should do it for cereal. What's next on the list?"
I'd gotten my license a couple weeks ago and quickly discovered that the rite of passage had increased Sarah's freedom far more than it had increased mine. Grocery shopping was one of a dozen or so errands Sarah had volunteered me for since.
We moved aisle-by-aisle through the store, with me reciting each item scrawled out in Mrs. Flynn's careful handwriting and Sarah quickly guiding its real world counterpart into the cart. At the register, Sarah handed the cashier the two crisp fifties her mother had given her and tapped her foot impatiently as the order was tallied. The aproned girl behind the register was a pretty undergrad, probably about twenty-two and blond with glacial blue eyes. Having finished growing before the Change, as the media called it, she was a couple inches shorter than me. I flashed her what I hoped was a confident and attractive smile. She rolled her eyes back.
By the time the color faded from my cheeks, the last of the Flynn's groceries had been bagged. Sarah shoved two of the brown paper bags into my arms carelessly into my arms and scooped up the other six bags herself before setting off for the exit. I hurried to catch up.
When you're five-foot-nine, it's only too easy for a girl with three-foot long legs and the energy of a fourteen-year-old to disappear into the distance.
I'd started wondering lately if that might not be such a bad thing. Mrs. Flynn had always been very good to me and I was happy to help out. It would have been nice if Sarah had asked rather than informed. As I unlocked the trunk, I wondered idly what Connor was up to.
A few days ago he'd gotten into an argument with his sister, and since she hadn't really wanted him around. When Sarah didn't want Connor around, it meant that I didn't see much of Connor. During these periods, we kept our friendship afloat through AOL Instant Messenger.
Even those conversations were primarily reactive to Sarah. In the time since the controller incident, his bitter diatribes had largely shifted from the arguments he'd had with his "little" sister to the arguments he'd like to have. When things finally boiled over the other day, she'd effortlessly lifted him clean off and hung him from the corner of his bedroom door by the back of his shirt. For my part, I exasperatedly ticked off the latest transgressions against my personal sovereignty.
It's not really that I disliked hanging out with Sarah (despite what I might tell Connor). She was, for the most part, the same fun energetic girl she'd always been. Connor and I had been the ones who taught her how to have fun, so most of the things she wanted to do were the kind of things I wanted to do. The disconcerting thing was the way she now approached our friendship. When we were all younger, and she looked up to us, Connor and I would often strive to create the illusion that we valued her input. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, Sarah made no effort to hide the fact that she made all the decisions. She asserted her control in subtle, likely unconscious ways. When we played Frisbee in the park, she'd make a show of waving the disc in front of me just an inch or two out of my reach. When I would try to assert an opinion contrary to her own, she would correct me as if her position was hard fact. Even errands like this curtailed my time with other friends. When the errands had started, she was careful to thank me each time for my help. But as time passed, my subservience increased and her respect for me decreased. She never thanked me any more, and patronizing criticism had started to filter in.
I was halfway to the driver's seat, when a finger gently tapped my finger from behind.
I sighed and turned around. "What's up, Sarah?"
"I noticed you just tossed your bags in the middle of the trunk just now. Your bags had the eggs, milk, and lemonade which really need to be secured against the side. Don't worry about it this time, I fixed it for you. Just something to think about for next time."
She slid by me without pausing for a response, her elbow brushing softly against my bicep. Car loaded up, I plopped down behind the wheel -— content to revel in one of my few remaining illusions of power.
After glancing around in vain for some sign of Connor's presence, I flipped channels from the couch in her living room as she unpacked the groceries. I didn't bother offering to help anymore; the Flynns' kitchen had cathedral ceilings and since she cleared 6'4" had insisted on putting everything on the top shelf so she wouldn't have to bend down — thought only she and her father could reach it.
Besides, she moved faster on her own.
I was just starting to zone out to a documentary on the construction of a giant bridge in southern France, when I noticed the sounds of metal cans hitting hardwood shelves had silenced. Suddenly my view of the television was obstructed by a large patch of pale lavender. By the time my view of the screen had cleared, a warm soft presence began pressing down lightly on me. The air became heavy with a familiar smell. Soft lips brushed against mine, and a pair of breast squeezed gently against my chest. I felt myself begin to stiffen even as my mind filled with dawning, horrified comprehension. I had been interested in girls for a while now, and girls developed earlier than boys — especially now. My suspicions were confirmed when a voice far too young whispered inches from my face. "The house is ours for at least another hour now. Something big pressing against my abdomen tells me you're just as excited as I am."
So this is what it had come to. Plenty of fourteen-year-old girls had crushes on older boys. But until recently, none had the confidence nor the means to act upon them. Sometime between last summer and the controller incident she had become attracted to me. And as she asserted more and more control over me, my authority had meant less and less. At some point, the idea of making a move on me must have stopped seeming ridiculous. As I pushed up against her firm abdomen and completely failed to move her, I had to concede that it certainly wasn't ridiculous to me. Apparently, we'd reached a point where my voice no longer had any meaning.
That was about to change.
"No, Sarah. This is not going to happen."
She laughed a little and pressed herself closer against me. "Oh, really? Go ahead and stop me."
My tone remained firm, even as I struggled to inhale against the pressure. "I can't. You know I can't; you wouldn't being doing this if you thought I could. You're bigger, stronger, and faster than me. If you wanted to, you could rip open my pants and fuck me right now. But you don't want to."
She laughed again, somewhat more nervously now. "I don't, really?" she cooed sarcastically.
"No, you don't. You obviously don't have much respect for me any more, but there's a part of you that still loves me like I love you. And that part of you is missing the boy that tried to be like a brother to you. At some point, I stopped having the courage to be that person for you. This is my last chance to be that boy again. Because if I let you go through with this, the girl that I loved like a sister is gone."
I paused and the room filled with silence. The pressure against my body let up a bit.
"If anything I've said still matters to you, you're going to stand up and walk me to the door."
The pressure finally lifted entirely and cool air flooded in to the gap in between.
When we reached the doorway, streams of tears ran down the face floating above me.
"Thank you," she whispered.
I spread out my arms, and an entirely different kind of pressure pressed against me, trembling as increasingly powerful sobs racked her entire body.
"I can't be around here for a while," I ventured cautiously.
"I know," she whispered back as she slowly withdrew from the hug.
I was a few steps before I turned back to the lanky form stooped in the doorway, riddled with shame.
"And Sarah?"
"Yeah?"
"Apologize to Connor. He doesn't deserve to be treated that way."

[Author]

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