Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
From: b1223@ix.netcom.com
Subject: Lisa's TG Library: "Bobbi McGee" [1/2] updated by C.Leeson
Date: Fri, 14 Jun 96 18:23:44 GMT

			     Bobbi McGee
				  by
			  Christopher Leeson
			       Part One

	Rob's balls ached with desire. He felt Dori take his cock all
the way into her tender mouth and begin to bob her head up and down,
her velvety lips caressing every inch of his throbbing organ.

	As she did so, the young realtor burrowed his nose into her
sweet vagina and captured the ripe, erect, bud of her clitoris between
his teeth. He sucked it into his mouth, exciting the sensitive tissue
with his teeth while he flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth
against her clit.

	"Uuhh," Dori moaned, the cry of pleasure muffled by the large,
surging penis in her mouth. He knew that his teeth on her stem of
passion were driving her wild.

	She wrapped both hands around Rob's thick shaft at the base
and held it tightly as she ran it in and out of her mouth. Her entire
body was quaking; the super heat between her legs had reached a point
where she felt that she was actually sitting on a hot seat. No matter
how she wiggled and squirmed, the temperature continued building and
building.

	The pores of her flesh opened and her body was suddenly
covered with a glistening coat of perspiration. She pressed her lips
against Rob's pulsing shaft and felt the rushing blood pound faster
through his organ. Her hips began bouncing on his face, causing his
nose to penetrate her vagina, which sent a thrill through her every
nerve.

	His hips suddenly began to jerk. Dori felt the first jet of
his sperm splashed against her inner cheek. Then her mouth was flooded
with the thick, heavy juice. The hot semen oozing into her throat
triggered a series of rockets that jetted scorching fire along the
artery ways of her warmly quivering body...

	Suddenly the doorbell chimed. With a curse, Rob lifted his
head from Dori's pussy and rolled over.

	"Keey-rist!" he panted. "That's timing for you."

	Dori swallowed hard and wiped her mouth on the back of her
hand. "Get rid of them and get back to me, would you?"

	"I'll just be a minuet, doll," Rob promised, rising wearily.
He dried his face with a tissue, threw on his plaid robe, and then
hurried out the bedroom door. In just a minute he was back, carrying a
small package in a brown wrapper.

	"Who was it?" asked Dori.

	"A twenty-four hours delivery service."

	"What did you get? Who sent it?"

	"There's no return address. Rob sat down at the edge of the
bed and started tearing off the wrapping paper. Dori nestled up behind
him and rested her chin on his hard shoulder.

	"Well, well, well," he muttered. "Cute."

	Dori frowned. It was some sort of primitive female sculpture,
naked except for a strange headdress.

	No wonder Rob liked it. He always did admire big breasts, she
knew, and she had gotten the idea that even her B-cups were too small
for his sense of aesthetics. As Rob turned the thing around Dori
observed that it was two-faced; a male figure was cast behind the
female one. Dori knew immediately which side her man would be setting
outward for viewing! He was a horny guy, but he was hers!

	" - Look, here's a card," Rob said, plucking a piece of paper
from the box. "`To Rob with hate. Cassandra.' I never thought I'd hear
that name again."

	"Who's Cassandra?" asked Dori suspiciously.

	"Nobody. - She and I used to live together, that's all. It
ended badly."

	"You never mentioned her!"

	"Why should I? I know what a jealous woman you are."

	"She was nobody? Just a live-in girl friend? Who am I? Nobody
plus one, or two, or three, or five?"

	"Listen, baby, how do you think I got to be so good in bed if
this was strictly amateur hour?"

	"So you DID have a lot of girls before you met me!"

	"I've always been popular, so sue me! Dori, don't be a pain."

	"Pain?! I just want some respect."

	"Baby bottom, you're going nuts over nothing! Settle down."

	I don't like the idea of old girl friends sending you gifts!
Does it say that she's going to be visiting?"

	"I told you what it said! For crying out loud, Dori, give me
some credit. I've only had eyes for you!"

	"You've only known me a month. Who will it be next month?"

	"Honey!"

	"I must have been crazy to think that what we had was
something special."

	"It is - sort of!"

	"Sort of?! That does it! Let your old girl friend know there's
a vacancy. I'm quitting the fan club!"

	Dori scrambled from the bed. Rob didn't say anything. There
was nothing he could say when she was in one of her snits. He watched
her pull on her clothes with a speed never seen before. Once dressed
in the same peasant blouse and miniskirt that she had worn earlier to
the restaurant (making herself look more like a cocktail waitress who
was loafing rather than a customer to be served), she started emptying
the drawers and stuffing her cheap plastic-over-cardboard suitcases.
Rob might have sweet-talked her, but he knew she that Dori was prone
to flare-ups and sudden mood-changes. The best thing for the girl was
a little breathing space. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong,
except living a life of his own before he had met her. The little
brunette could walk out of his life if she wanted to, or stay, but,
either way, he didn't see any reason to beg.

	Letting Dori alone to finish her packing, Rob shuffled out to
the kitchen and turned on the radio. It was set to the oldies channel
that Dori liked so well and just then they were playing

	"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose... "

	That was Janis Joplin's "Bobbie McGee," Rob knew, a song that
he had always enjoyed. But right now the lyrics depressed him. They
were about a great relationship that just couldn't hold together for
the long term. It reminded him of all his own relationships with
women.

	The next song was Frank Sinatra's "I Could Write a Book." I
bet you could, you old Mafioso, Rob chuckled as he went to the
refrigerator and broke open a beer. By the time he finished it, Dori
was coming out of the bedroom, loaded down with suitcases and even
paper bags full of her wash and wear things. As she stormed past him,
Rob noticed an article fall from one of her precariously-held bags and
plop down on the kitchen floor.

	"Dori!" he said.

	She turned angrily. "Don't plead with me to stay, Rob!"

	"I wouldn't. I think we both need some space, but you dropped
- "

	"Ooh, men! Listen, Rob, I'll give you so much space that
you'll never see me again!"

	With that final pronouncement, Dori stomped out the back door
and Rob heard her footsteps on the stairs which led to where Toyota
was parked.

	"Women!" he sighed. Well, he consoled himself, she had stayed
longer than most. No big deal. She couldn't cook as well as Rob could
himself, and was a worse house-keeper, too.

	The young man got up from his chair and plucked the fallen
object from the tiles. It was just a skimpy

	pair of blue denim cut-offs. Rob shook his head. He had always
gotten a charge out of seeing Dori's tight bottom filling her shorts
to capacity. This pair was so small that the lush curves of her lower
buttocks were left bare - a glory to see. He tossed the shorts on top
of the counter indifferently. Unlike some males, Rob didn't get
excited about women's clothes - unless, that is, they were filled with
a woman who could do them justice.

	The night's fun and games had tired Rob out and he padded
sleepily back to the bedroom. The moment he stepped in the door he
noticed the two-faced idol lying on the covers. His curiosity renewed,
he picked it up. The face on either side of it had little gem eyes and
he wondered if it was valuable or just some cheap import. There was an
inscription on its bottom which looked very much like the writing that
he had seen in the occasional foreign- language newspaper from India.

	Rob couldn't help wondering why Cassandra had sent him the
thing. She had known her as a graduate student in anthropology, of
course, but Rob was more into sports cars and never talked to her
about her favorite subject. Their sex had been hot, but they had
nothing much in common, and her strident feminism eventually turned
him off. With one breath Cassandra would be expressing the superiority
of woman, and with the next she was complaining that she hadn't been
born a man.

	He wished he could understand women. Men never went around
wishing they were female - at least the sort of men Rob felt
comfortable with didn't. What was the big deal anyway? he wondered.
Whatever sex you were, the sensible person accepted it and enjoyed it
for all that it was worth. The one thing he which he had really liked
about Dori was that she seemed to have a hell of a good time with
being a girl. Too bad that her peeves and snits always drove him up
the wall.

	I just wish that I could find my perfect match, Rob thought.
He was getting more than a little tired of these affairs that never
seemed to turn into anything deep or meaningful. Why couldn't he have
a relationship like the one his parents had? Up until the terrible
accident that had taken their lives, they had enjoyed a wonderful
partnership. Rob was beginning to think that he had a lousy taste in
women. Or was it something wrong about his personality, some quirk in
him that attracted women for a little while, but then drove them away?
Rob knew he was in a rut - and not for the first time he found himself
wishing that he could get out of it somehow. He shook his head. How
could he? He was what he was. It would probably take a miracle to
change a quality so fundamental to his character.

	But he couldn't help but wonder what comprised the happiness
that some lucky people found with one another but which was denied to
him? Common interests, he thought, trust, sharing, and patience?
Kindness, forgiveness, and respect? And he shouldn't leave out
friendship. Of all the women he had known, not one real friend stood
out among them. That was a sad commentary.

	It all had seemed so simple when Rob had been a hormonal
teenager. Then he had supposed that a lot of high-quality screwing
would bring happiness. Well, as a jaded veteran he had learned that
the merchandise wasn't bad, but it was no happiness pill either.

	He put the idol on the night stand with the female-side out,
intending to admire it later in the morning light, then threw off his
robe and slipped under the covers. Rob was dead to the world in a just
few minutes.

	As the young man lay half-asleep, he dreamed he was fondling
Dori's breast. It felt larger than he remembered. When he touched
Dori's boob, he thought he could feel his own fingers playing
teasingly upon it. When he opened his blurry eyes to the early dawn's
light, he saw Dori's breasts, but the odd thing was that he couldn't
see Dori at all - just her breasts.

	"God, what a dream!" he muttered.

	His chest started itching as he lay there, but when he
scratched himself he felt soft, tender mounds of flesh which were hurt
by his nails as if they were his own. He grimaced; he just couldn't
seem to get out of that lucid dream about women's breasts. Just then
his sleepy fingers went to his groin, which was also itching. Instead
of his scrotum, he found there a woolly patch occupying an emptiness
where his well-oiled equipment always had parked. What the hell? he
wondered. Then he understood. He was dreaming that he was a woman!
Kinky, he chuckled. Rob couldn't recall ever having had such a dream
before. On impulse, he decided to go look at himself in the dream
mirror. Robert Wescott as a woman, he supposed in his sleep-drugged
state, should be something to see.

	The nearly sonambulant Rob staggered to the full-length mirror
and he wasn't disappointed. A slim girl with long, soft honey- blond
curls falling over her narrow shoulders looked back at him from the
glass. She looked like a healthy and athletic sort of miss, as if she
swam and ran a lot, just like Rob did himself. Her breasts were nicer
than Dori's - not as big Dolly Parton's, of course, but would have
done credit to Christy Brinkley.

	The reflected girl had a nest of light brown pubic hair that
almost hid the pursed lips of her pussy. Her waist was narrow, Rob
noted, but her hips were becomingly round. Rob touched his buttocks
and saw the girl's hands go behind her also, mimicking him perfectly.
The girl's derriere felt full and hard, just the sort of backside that
he loved most to fondle. The girl in the glass smiled with pleasure.
Both fondling and being fondled felt very good. Intrigued by the
heightened sensitivity of his dream-body, Rob reached forward and
stroked his pussy lightly. One touch of its sensitive labia sent
something like an electric shock coursing through his body. The
pleasure was so intense as to make him shudder.

	An amazing dream, Rob thought, but one so intriguing that he
didn't want it to end just yet. He carefully studied the girl's oval
face with its pert little chin. If she looked familiar it was because
she looked so much like him. The angles of her cheeks and jaw were
soften by her feminine sex, however, and they framed a prettily
turned-up nose and a pair big robin-egg blue eyes with long and
batting lashes. Her lips were so full and sensual that they reminded
Rob of his mother's when she was young.

	The young man grinned as he sleepily considered the
experience. If he had been unfortunate enough to be born a girl, it
might not have been quite so intolerable as he might have imagined had
Mother Nature graced him with the gentle beauty of the girl in the
mirror.

	Rob yawned. Standing there so long had made him weak in the
legs; he had to lie down or fall. So, forgetting the strange dream, he
wobbled over to the bed and plopped down. He was out cold as soon as
his face hit the pillow.

	The seven o'clock alarm bell work Rob fully. He yawned and
rubbed his chest.

	Then Robert Wescott yelled in horror.

				* * *

	Wrapped in tightly in his robe, Rob paced back and forth
across the kitchen floor. It hadn't been a dream! He had been really
looking at himself in the mirror. Somehow - by some incredible somehow
- he had turned into a girl during the night!

	Things like this happened in stupid movies, he knew, but not
in reality. He had lately watched a weird one called SYNAPSE - about a
male-to-female brain transplant and a lot of automatic weapons combat.
He also remembered that video cassette that Cassandra had once brought
home. It was called SWAT or STITCH, or something like that. It starred
Perry King, who God n so shabbily. But Perry's character had had to
die before he was zapped with a female shape, while Rob knew that he
was still alive. At least, he thought he was. Suddenly he remembered
the statuette in the bedroom.

	Cassandra! Now it all started making some sense. When he knew
her she had already been getting into primitive fertility magic
studies and that Mother Goddess stuff. In fact, she had even done
research among those crazy Wicca cultists.

	That was it! Cassandra had cursed him! She had found a magic
idol and cursed him with it. In fact, maybe she had even used it on
herself first, considering her silly male-envy. Was there now man
named Cass wandering around? Rob hoped never to run into the bum -
without a gun in his hand, at least!

	"I've got to see a doctor - fast!" he - or rather, she -
muttered to herself.

	Rob ran back into the bedroom and threw on her much-too-large
male pants, shirt, and shoes. The hapless young woman walked right out
of her size-twelve loafers at her very first step.

	Damn! she thought, I can't go outside looking like this. I
need women's clothes, at least until I get to the hospital. Maybe Dori
left something behind that'll fit this stupid body!

	Rob, her heart pounded in her throat, rushed to the closet
hoping to find a pair of jeans and a shirt that she could wear without
embarrassment. The closet was empty, as were the drawers. Dori didn't
leave much of anything behind, just a little cloth purse with nothing
in it but lint; it had fallen behind Rob's tennis shoes and been
overlooked in her haste. Then the girl got the idea to check the
clothes hamper and, sure enough, Dori had missed something. Rob found
an orange halter top and a pair of panties. The clothes from the
bottom of the hamper had a sweaty, musky scent, but Rob wasn't
worrying about that as she put them on. She was able to get into the
halter fairly easy since Rob had watched lots of girl friends
dressing. To her annoyance, the halter seemed too snug to be
comfortable. Then the young woman knew that she actually had boobs
bigger than Dori's! That was incredible!

	She could go out barefoot, but didn't want to. Suddenly
remembered seeing Dori's sandals under the bed a couple days earlier
and got down on her hands and knees to have another look. Sure enough,
they were still there. Rob now had some footgear!

	But the bikini top and panties weren't enough to cloth her
decently. Just then Rob remembered that pair of cut-offs back in the
kitchen. Without pausing for breath, she ran to get the denim shorts.

	With the cut-offs in hand again, she felt a twinge of dismay.
They were so skimpily cut! Why did Dori have to be such a bimbo? In
Rob's state of mind she had forgotten how much Dori's lack of fashion
sense had excited her as male. It was the brassy way with which she
presented herself in public that had first caught her - then his -
eye. At first Rob had wondered if the girl so willing to show off so
much in public was a hooker in the wrong neighborhood. But she wasn't.
Dori was something better. An honest woman who fulfilled a man's
fantasies about bad girls.

	Realizing she had no choice, Rob climbed into the cut-offs and
found that she had to exhale hard to get the snaps closed. Apparently
her remolded hips were a size or two wider than Dori's. If the shorts
were tight on their owner, they were less than a second skin on Rob.

	Though now dressed as well as she could be, Rob felt like she
was standing around in underwear - and girl's underwear at that! Her
cleavage was pushed-up by the constrain of the halter and the panties
weren't designed to be worn with shorts so sparse. Dori had always
worn little thong panties whenever she had on teensy shorts so that
they wouldn't show. Desperately, Rob stuffed the visible hems of her
panties up under the tight denim and then went to get her wallet and
keys. As she fumbled them out of the drawer, she realized that the
pockets of her cut-offs were much too tight for her to put anything
into them. Women always had a pocket problem, she remembered, and they
solved it by carrying purses.

	Resourcefully, Rob seized Dori's forgotten purse and stuffed
the wallet and keys inside it. Then, as an afterthought, she put the
magic statuette in along with them. Maybe the hospital could have it
analyzed and find the antidote. Finally, Rob hurried down to the
residents' garage, got into her Dodge Avenger, hastily readjusted the
seat forward, and started the engine.

				* * *

	Trembling and preoccupied, Rob almost had an accident in the
morning traffic, but she finally managed to get to the hospital
parking ramp safely. Without pausing to lock the doors, the distraught
girl raced into the emergency room.

	"I've got to s-see a doctor!" she stammered to the
receptionist. The middle-aged woman regarded the deshabille girl
coolly and asked, "What's the problem?"

	"I'm under a curse!"

	"A what?"

	"A curse! I've been changed!"

	"What do you mean you've been changed?"

	"I - I'd rather save that news for the doctor."

	"Do you wanted to see our staff psychiatrist?"

	"I'm not crazy! I want to see the doctor who knows the most
about breaking curses!"

	As distraught as she was, Rob realized that she wasn't making
much sense. But who else should she ask for? A gynecologist?

	"Maybe we should start you out with a family medicine
practitioner," the receptionist suggested. "What's your insurance
company?"

	"Metro Group Health," Rob answered, frustrated by the way
hospitals did business. She dug deeply into her wallet to find her
medical services card.

	The receptionist took the plastic rectangle from her shaking
hand and frowned. "This is a card for a Robert Wescott."

	Rob thought quickly. "Ah, he's my husband. We have the family
plan."

	"No you don't. This card says `individual only.' Do you have
any other means of paying, Miss?"

	She wanted to scream, to shriek to the world that she was
Robert Wescott, but who would believe that a pretty girl wearing an
overstuffed halter and a pair of flirtatious cut-offs had a grown man
hidden inside her? Anyway, people were watching, listening. Rob didn't
want anyone to know who she was. It was just too humiliating.

	The blonde checked her wallet for cash. She - then he - had
shown Dori a good time at dinner the night before. There wasn't more
than a few dollars left. "I've got a credit card," she gasped in
agitation.

	The receptionist took the card patiently, but again had to
frown. "This is your husband's, my dear. We can't accept your card
unless you can prove that you're really Mrs. Wescott. Do you have a
picture ID?"

	Rob was so distressed that she wasn't thinking at all well.
She fumbled inside her wallet again, saying, "Sure I've got a driver's
license!"

	She pulled out the license and shoved it in front of the
woman.

	The receptionist sighed wearily. "No, Miss, we can't use Mr.
Wescott's license. We have to see yours."

	"I guess - I guess I forgot it," Bobbi mumbled hopelessly. Now
she was getting frightened. In another moment they'd be accusing her
of having stolen some man's wallet and trying to use his health plan
and credit card illegally. If she got arrested, what could she say?

	"I hope you can get home without being arrested," the
receptionist remarked.

	"What?!" Rob cried out, as if her mind had been picked of its
most terrible anxiety.

	"You don't have your own license on you. Drive carefully."

	Bob shuddered as the horror sank in. She couldn't prove who
she was, but still had to get help. If she didn't get a vaccination
for this terrible condition soon, it might go too far - and might even
become permanent!

	"Can't you put me on welfare, then. I - I'm terribly sick!"

	The receptionist took another look and felt sorry for the
pretty, but naughtily-clad and very messed-up waif. She suspected that
the little blonde was on the emergency room got hundreds of cases of
people who had put all their money up their arm or up their nose. They
were a terrible burden on the system, but they had to be taken take
care of, even if the taxpayer had to foot the bill.

	"All right honey, we'll see what we can do. What's your name?"

	"Ah - R-Rob - "

	"Excuse me?"

	"Ah, Bobbi! - Bobbi Wescott."

	"What is your Social Security number, Bobbi," she asked in a
subdued voice, trying not to set off the distraught girl.

	"I'll find it," Bobbi stammered as she looked for her card.
Then she stopped suddenly. It would have the Robert Wescott name on
it, too. Showing it would just compound her problems. "Please, I don't
need any more questions, Miss." She began to sob. "I need help!"

				* * *

	Finally she got to see a doctor. He suspected drugs and
checked for them. While he did so, she tried to explain her
transformation calmly and clearly to him, but only convinced the
physician that she was delusional. He prescribed valium and made her
an appointment with a hospital psychiatrist. By that time Bobbi had
steadied herself enough to appear rational to the untutored eye.

	Leaving the hospital, Bobbi realized that medical science
couldn't help her. Scientists didn't understand magic. She guessed
that she would have to see a witch. But how did one find a practicing
warlock? she wondered. They didn't advertise in the phone book. There
was an occult book store downtown, the girl suddenly remembered.
Maybe she could ask the clerks there for a lead.

	Bobbi drove home without mishap and, used up, emotionally
spent, she put her key into the lock. She just wanted to get into bed,
to cover up her and cry herself empty. Much to her surprise, the door
only opened a couple inches; the security chain was set. As she shook
the door in frustration, Dori stepped into view.

	"Dori! You're back!" cried Bobbi.

	"You're damned right I'm back!" Dori snarled through the
crack. "Who in hell are you and what are you doing with Rob's key?"

	"Damn it Dori, I live here!"

	What do you mean you live here? That bastard sure didn't waste
any time replacing me, did he! Well, I'm going to fight for my man!
Take a hike, bitch!"

	"No, Dori, you don't understand!"

	Dori was opening the door. "I understand, all right, you
little tramp! Rob thinks you're moving in with him! Well, he's got
another thing coming! Give me those keys! You'll stay in this
apartment over my dead body!"

	Dori shoved Bobbi hard against the wall and grabbed at her
keys. Dori's strength seemed incredible! Being manhandled by a sleek
girl like Dori so shocked Bobbi that she defended herself very poorly;
she couldn't prevent the keys from being torn from her nerveless
grasp. Then the Dori stormed back into the apartment, slammed the door
shut, and threw the deadbolt.

	"Let me in, you stupid slut!" Bobbi yelled, beating on the
panel with her tender fists. "At least give me back my car keys!"

	"Your car keys? They've got Rob's name on them and they're for
his Dodge! Get out of here, or I'll call the police!"

	Bobbi slumped back against the wall, overwhelmed. Locked out
of her apartment, her car keys lost, having almost no money, barely
dressed, she realized now that she didn't even have an identity. The
girl suddenly grasped that her problem wasn't just facing life as a
woman, it was a matter of basic survival - food, shelter, clothing!

	She shuddered. What a heartless revenge Cassandra had taken
upon her! Sure, Rob had told her that he had had his fill of her nutty
ideas and had ordered her out of his life - but this was too much
retribution. It was like shooting a person in the heart for taking
someone's potato chip. Black despair overcame the young woman and a
ghastly image flashed before her inner mind - an image of herself
standing on a high bridge ready to jump, hopelessness and horror
snatching at her from behind, death and darkness waiting to receive
her up ahead.

	I don't want to die, she thought desperately. Jim! He's my
best friend. He'll know who I am! He'll help me!

				* * *

	The door to Jim's apartment opened slowly. A face that wasn't
Jim's appeared, saying, "Well, hello! What can I do for you?"

	Bobbi recognized Rona Spears. In fact, she knew that this had
always been Rona's apartment - it had been Jim who had moved in with
her. "Am I glad somebody's home!" Bobbi jabbered. " - Listen, I'm
Bobbi, uh, McGee, a friend of Robert Wescott. I wanted to stay with
Rob while I'm visiting the city, but, uh, he's not in town. So I
thought about Jim and you. Rob said that you were such good friends of
his. Is it okay?"

	Rona sized up the girl. Yes, she looked just like the type
that Rob Wescott would be interested in. In fact, maybe his taste was
improving. There was a natural charm to this young woman. The business
woman sensed a vulnerability in Bobbi McGee that called out something
benign and sisterly from deep inside her.

	"Any friend of Rob's is a friend of ours," she said
pleasantly. "I'm afraid that Jim is seeing clients in Sacramento and
won't be back until tomorrow night. You can stay here until either he
or Rob shows up."

	"That's great, Rona!"

	"Don't mention it, Bobbi." Just then Rona caught the scent of
her guest's musty clothing and perspiration.

	"Did you walk all the way here from Rob's?"

	"Yes, I wanted to save the cab fare."

	Rona stood aside to let Bobbi enter. "Well, why don't you
freshen up with a shower? Do you have an overnight bag?"

	"Ah, no. It was stolen from the cart at the bus station,"
Bobbi lied agilely.

	"Damn, this city!" Rona commiserated.

				* * *

	A half hour later found Bobbi resting upon a stuffed chair.
Now wearing a pair of Rona's jeans and a shirt, it felt so good to be
out Dori's mix-and-match bimbo outfit. The shower, too, been
restorative, but touching her strange new body was hard for Bobbi. She
had kept her eyes closed through the whole bath.

	Rona stepped back into the room wearing a dress suit and a
sting tie. "Well, Bobbi, I hate to leave, but I have a dinner
engagement with an important client."

	"You'd leave me here alone? A stranger?"

	"It's obvious that you know Rob very well. Somehow, I don't
think anyone with such sad, gentle eyes could be a thief. And,
besides, there's something about you that makes me feel like I know
you already."

	"You won't be sorry," Bobbi promised gratefully.

	Left alone, Bobbi grew a little restless as the afternoon wore
on. She got up and paced about the apartment, already very familiar to
her from her - then his - earlier visits. She took a Diet Coke, made a
salami sandwich and found that just one filled her up. Maybe a smaller
body meant a smaller appetite. That's good, she thought - lower
grocery bills. Then she wandered over to the full-length mirror.

	"Look at you!" Bobbi rebuked her own reflection. "What a sight
you are!" She folded her arms over the swollen front of her shirt and
cast a troubled glance out the window. "How long am I going to be like
this? Forever?"

	Screwing up her courage, Bobbi regarded her reflection yet
again. This time she nodded grudgingly, saying, "You're good-looking,
I'll grant you that!"

	The young woman's curiosity at last got the better of her. She
took off her shirt and studied herself. Rona's clothes fitted very
well, Bobbi had discovered, but, like Dori's, Rona's bra was just too
snug. In fact, the discomfort was enough to prompt the new-minted girl
to take it off entirely. Now bare to the waist, Bobbi cupped her bra-
pinched breasts in her hands and massaged the soreness away.

	"I really grew a big crop of America's best last night," she
chuckled sadly. Were they hers for keeps? Was there any way to break
the magic spell? How long did she think of all the stories she had
read about magic, all the movies she had seen. The Shaggy Dog had to
do something brave and heroic to become a boy again, she recalled. The
Frog Prince had to get a princess to kiss him. The Beast had to make
Beauty love him.

	Bobbi grinned, enjoying the idea of being kissed by Princess
Di and being restored to gorgeous manhood in her arms. But it wasn't a
practical solution.

	The blonde put her hands on her hips and tilted her head from
side to side.

	If I'm stuck as a girl for any time at all, Bobbi thought,
I've got to earn a living. How do I do that? I can't even prove I have
a high school diploma now. Maybe I could become a model. Bobbi
fantasized herself in a bikini and leaning sexily against a red Nissan
240SX, or a glossy black Acura Integra upon the cover of some future
issue of SPORTS CAR. Not much hard work in modeling, she thought;
wearing a bikini in public would be the roughest part. But then she
reconsidered. Fat chance! Those jobs were hard to get. Every model
that she had known as Rob had at one time or another complained that
she had had to sleep with somebody to get a shot at the worthwhile
assignments.

	Bobbi winced. The idea of sleeping with a man was decidedly
unpleasant, even if it meant earning a good living. Now that she was a
girl, Bobbi wondered if it meant that she liked boys. She called up a
large image of Fabio in her mind's eye and decided that it didn't to a
thing for her. But Cindy Crawford - ahh, that was a body to set her
heart strings strumming! But could Bobbi thrill Cindy as she was now?
Maybe; she had heard some of the tabloid stories about the supermodel.
Be that as it may, Bobbi could console herself that plenty of girls
were willing sleep with other girls. Especially girls like the one in
the mirror.

	Bobbi went over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a
scotch and soda. I need a drink, she thought, if I'm ever going to
sort this thing out. Damn, what if Jim won't believe me? What then?

	As she consumed the hard liquor, she felt depressed. Rob had
worked very hard at building a career in real estate. Now it was lost.
As Bobbi she might have to start all over again. Well, there were
plenty of female realtors, and though the feminists among them might
whine and feel sorry for themselves, the average customer related well
to the feminine style of salesmanship. The women in the business did
well on the whole, as long as they applied themselves as vigorously as
a man.

	In fact, it was at a realtor's convention where Rob had first
met Rona, and there discovered that they both lived in the same city.
The two of them were friendly from the start, but they had never quite
made it into bed together. It was Jim's heart - or loins - that Rona
had set on fire when Rob introduced them. Rob didn't really resent the
way things had worked out, since he thought that Rona would be good
for his friend and, besides, Rob's hands were full just then with a
postal worker named Charlotte who liked to lick whipped cream off his
bare feet.

	Bobbi sighed. Those were the good old days. Were the really
gone forever? What could she replace them with? The small blonde
downed the rest of her drink, and then tackled a second. How strangely
and how suddenly her fate had changed! she thought. She suddenly got
worried that this experience was some sort of punishment - from
Heaven, not just from the weird and vindictive Cassandra. Was it
possible that Cassandra might actually have been acting - unwittingly
- as Heaven's agent?

	Bobbi decided that it couldn't be. Rob never hurt women. In
fact, he had made scores of women very happy - for a while. At least
he had never committed the big faux pas and gotten one of them
pregnant. That is, he never knew for certain that any of his girls
were pregnant when split-up time arrived. She checked herself,
supposing that in another minute she'd be feeling guilty for
absolutely nothing. Damn it, birth control was a woman's problem
anyway!

	Birth control. That was a strange thought under the present
circumstances. Bobbi had become a woman herself and so she suddenly
wondered, with a strangely-melded sense of alarm and amazement,
whether this new-edition body of hers could conceive a child.
Motherhood. Imagine that! She looked down at herself and touched her
small, slightly convex belly. Could it happen? If it could, what
should she think about it?

	Bobbi remembered how the tough gang boss trapped in Kathy
Duffy's body in SYNAPSE had finally achieved a happy ending by
becoming a loving wife and the proud mother of a little boy. And in
Ellen Barkin's movie, too, the character had had a baby. But she had
tragically died in childbirth. That was such a sad scene, Bobbi
remembered - and it was supposed to have been a comedy! Very tipsy
now, she felt the tickle of tears roiling down her cheeks. A sudden
rush of sadness made her shake with sobs. The thought of Ellen's
little girl growing up without a mother to love her seemed an idea so
awful that the young woman tried as hard as she could not to think
about it. She finished her drink to steady her nerves.

	Once she had released her pent-up emotions Bobbi felt much
better. She mopped away her tears with the backs of her hands. The
crying had stuffed up her nose, so she blew it in a napkin. The girl
considered whether she needed another drink and decided that she did.

	A little later, staggering drunk, Bobbi wobbled into the
bedroom and clumsily stripped off her jeans. She didn't actually mean
to shed the panties along with them, but her thumbs had gotten into
their waistband and so she dragged them off, too. As she fell into
bed, Bobbi's forehead struck her purse and it hurt. "Damned idol," she
thought as she rolled over and dug the thing from the handbag.

	Seeing the statuette again gave Bobbi a sudden idea. If it had
changed her sex once just by sleeping near it, maybe it would change
her back if she repeated the process. "I'll just put this little
doodad beside the bed here," she slurred, "and maybe it'll turn me
into a man by morning. Fight magic with magic! What have I got to
lose?"

	As she settled the statuette upon the night stand, she noticed
a bottle of perfume sitting there next to the lamp. Its label read
"Magic Midnight." Bobbi had always loved the scent of perfume on
beautiful women. With a crooked smile, she fumbled the bottle open to
take a whiff. She found its odor wonderfully sensuous but,
unfortunately, the girl's quaking fingers dropped the bottle on her
lap, not spilling much, but tossing several powerfully aromatic
droplets into her pubic hair and across her bare thighs. Bobbi
recapped the bottle hastily, then turned off the lamp and fell into a
deep sleep.

From: b1223@ix.netcom.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Lisa's TG Library: "Bobbi McGee" [2/2]
Date: Fri, 14 Jun 96 18:25:34 GMT

			       Part Two

	Jim Cardwell opened the bedroom door quietly. He was a tall,
clear-eyed man with dark hair and a strong jaw. The Japanese investors
he had gone to Sacramento to see had cut their series of meetings
short due to a banking emergency back home. That had left Jim with
nothing to do other than catch an evening return flight. "Rona? Are
you awake?" he whispered. He heard a woman's deep breathing and her
wordless murmuring. "No, she's sleeping."

	The young investment broker sniffed the sweetened air. It was
his favorite perfume, Magic Midnight. Rona always wore it to make him
hot to trot! Grinning with anticipation, he began to strip off his
clothes. Jim hadn't cheated on Rona since he had known her, though he
had been sorely tempted just the night before. The Japanese had held
an extravagant party at the Imperial Hotel with all the amenities
provided. Jim had let the opportunity to make it with a high-class
call girl pass, though, because his old free-and-easy ways had always
brought him grief in the past and, besides, he cared about Rona and
wanted what they had to work out. But his near miss with infidelity
had made him very anxious to get back to Rona's side. Now that he had
caught scent of her, those feelings were rushing back into his id with
powerful urgency. He would either have to plunge into a very cold
shower or into some very hot action. With Rona and him in the same
bedroom, the idea of taking a shower came in a very poor second.

	Jim softly approached the bed. Sitting down beside the one
whom he thought was his girl friend, he grouped in the dark and
touched her slowly rising and falling breasts. He smiled; if anything,
Rona's lovelies felt even larger than he remembered them to be. Funny
the tricks that the memory can play! he thought. Jim sucked in an
excited breath as he stroked Bobbi's breasts. She stirred, but didn't
wake.

	Jim, trying not to disturb her sleep, checked her for panties;
she was wearing none. He slipped his own briefs to the floor, tossed
them aside, and positioned himself on the bed above the girl. He took
hold her hips to steady them, then, as he moved his face closer, Jim
discovered that "Rona" had used perfume on her pubic hair. To him that
meant that the little mix had been hoping that he'd find a way to come
home early and had decked herself out like a carnal feast so that not
a second would be wasted. What a woman!

	He flicked his tongue against the outer lips of Bobbi's pussy.
The sleeper shifted and moaned, but her alcohol-reinforced slumber was
a heavy one. Jim chuckled quietly as he moved his mouth to her
breasts, licking the nipples as if they had they been dabbed with
honey. Bobbi groaned and shifted a bit as the sharp tickling sensation
penetrated her deep sleep.

	The young man's member was now swollen and aching. He knew
that there wouldn't be much time for foreplay, so he took the woman
passionately in his arms and kissed her hard on the lips.

	"Whaa - ?!" Bobbi mumbled as she awoke to feel her mouth and
nose smothered under something wet.

	"Easy, Rona. It's Jim. I just got back. I need you, baby."

	"J-Jim?" the girl muttered confusedly.

	But Jim wasn't listening, he just kept on kissing her face and
neck, using all the techniques that he had developed over twenty-six
years of living free. He opened his mouth and captured on of her
large, erect nipples between his hungry lips. Jim sucked first on one
and then on the other. He pressed his face into her smooth, resilient
breasts, firm with the golden kiss of youth.

	"M-My God!" muttered Bobbi.

	Jim was now running his tongue along "Rona's" inner thighs,
while very gently spreading wet kisses on her skin. He brought his
face to the thick fleece between her legs and rubbed his nose in it,
inhaling deeply of her sweet perfume and natural woman-scent.

	Bobbi gasped and her hips involuntarily lurched. as her
bedfellow slipped his long wet tongue between her dewy labia into her
hot, moist recesses. Jim forced it as far up her passage as he could,
then let it slide out with teasing slowness. Her reaction encouraged
him to tease her all the more by running the tip of his tongue all
over her pussy without making contact with her small clitoris. He knew
that stunt was always slow torture for Rona. He heard the girl's
breath catch in her throat and felt her body quiver as if stung by an
electric jolt. He guessed that she was now ready to be brought to an
even higher pitch. Equal to the task, Jim put the tip of his probing
tongue into direct contact with her sensitive nether bud and began
flicking it back and forth. That never failed to drive Rona wild.

	"Oh, Jim! Christ, Jim!" Bobbi moaned as she felt the hot-
bladed thrills of excitement shooting through every nerve of her body.

	Unable to hold himself back, Jim repositioned himself to mount
her, guiding his rock-hard organ to her furred aperture. Tiny, pulsing
shocks raced through him as Bobbi reacted to the first touch of his
maleness, as if she wanted to wriggle away like a frightened virgin.
Jim steadied her with a firm grip and then, with a hard thrust, he
shoved himself as deeply as it could go into the unplumbed well of
Bobbi's scented maidenhood.

	"Oh!" Bobbi gasped as the tender walls of her interior
expanded to accommodate the penetration. Jim was surprised to find
"Rona's" pussy so tight. He felt the foreskin stretched back to the
limit, until it almost pained him. Then his breath caught in his
throat when her vaginal muscles seemed to contract around his
throbbing organ, trapping it in a powerful grip. Now that was his girl
Rona!

	Jim began fucking poor Bobbi with quick, hard thrusts, his
hips moving like pistons and plunging his extended organ into the very
depths of her maidenly womb.

	"Ayiiii! Ayiii!" Bobbi cried, throwing her head back and
holding to Jim's waist with clawing fingers. Her nails hurt him, but
Jim let everything fade from his mind, except the thought that he was
a young and healthy male fucking that special young woman that
belonged to him alone. He dug his toes into the mattress and pumped
himself into her for all he was worth. Each hard, long stroke made his
heart beat faster. He felt Bobbi's vaginal muscles go into action, not
by any direction on her part, but by the stern dictates of Mother
Nature, who decreed that man and woman should mate. Bobbi, her body
driven by pure instinct, frantically milked his rigid prick of the
thick, white essence of life, while her silken legs were a lock that
Houdini couldn't pick.

	Jim was rapidly approaching climax, but he wanted to be sure
that Rona came with him. Delaying his own pleasure with a mighty
exertion of will, he deliberately brought himself into contact with
her clitoris, subjecting her tight pussy to the relentless friction of
love-making until she was moaning with pleasure. Jim could hear the
loud slurping noise of his cock sliding in and out of Bobbi's wet,
fleshy vise while his testicles began to ache with an urgency that
begged release.

	Suddenly Bobbi felt Jim's prick expand within her - and the
first jet of searing hot viscous nectar splashed against her cervix,
igniting a series of explosions deep inside her body. "Aaaaiii!" the
girl cried out at the top of her lungs, digging her heels into his
thighs and raking her fingernails across his back as an irresistible
series of passion-quakes shot through her body.

	Jim's hips went on pumping even after the last drop had been
drained from him by Bobbi's hungry, if involuntary, contractions. He
could finally bear his Herculean exertion no longer and collapsed upon
her, using her. He heard the hot rasp of her breath in his ear, felt
her velvety arms wrapping themselves tightly around his neck, clinging
to him with desperate need.

	Bobbi, overwhelmed with drink and the aftermath of her
orgasmic release, didn't hear the sound of the doorknob turning. Even
Jim missed it and only when the bedroom light went on suddenly did he
look back in surprise. The surprise became pure horror when he saw
Rona's astonished face.

	"Jim! What are you doing!?"

	Jim really didn't know what he had been doing. Or rather he
did know - he just didn't know whom he had been doing it to. He looked
down at the face of the girl under him, with its big dewy eyes and
lips half-parted with astonishment. Confusion filled those eyes as
Bobbi blinked up into Jim's face, then they glazed over as she passed
out cold.

	"Who is she?" Jim gasped. "I never saw her before in my life!"

	"Don't play innocent, Jim!" sobbed Rona. "Can't I even let a
friend sleep over without you jumping her?"

	"So she's a friend of yours!" Jim jabbered as he rolled off of
Bobbi and threw a sheet over his nudity. "Honest, Rona, I didn't know.
It was dark and I thought she was you. She was wearing your perfume!"

	"A likely story! I've had it, Jim! I can't trust you anymore!
I was such a fool!" Suddenly her anger turned against Bobbi when she
spotted the girl's cut-offs and halter hanging upon the back of the
chair.

	She snatched them up and threw them into Jim's face. "Here,
these are hers! Get your playmate dressed and then both of you get out
of here! This is my apartment and I don't want to see either one of
you in it again!"

				* * *

	Again dressed in the halter, cut-offs, and sandals inherited
from Dori, Bobbi was sitting opposite Jim in the booth of a small
all-night cafe. With a pounding hangover and fighting hard to control
the trauma of what had happened to her, she had been trying hard to
explain who she really was, to no avail.

	Jim shook his head. "Miss, that's the nuttiest story I ever
heard! Rob put you up to this gag, didn't he?"

	"You stupid son of a bitch! I'm me! If you won't believe me,
nobody else in the world will either!"

	"Hey, calm down, honey. You'll make a scene."

	Tears of frustration ran down Bobbi's cheeks. Her headache
alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes. She rested her elbows on
the table and her face in her hands. "God, Jim, don't you have any
shame? You take my virginity, maybe even knock me up, and now you're
calling me a liar!"

	"Come on - I'll grant that you look enough like Rob to be his
sister, but you can't be Rob, magic or not. Rob would have died before
he'd dress like that. Anyway, the way you acted in bed tells me that
you're a one hundred percent wild woman - and Rob Wescott didn't like
boys!"

	"All right," said Bobbi, forcing a rush of anger over her
despair, "if you won't believe me, try sleeping next to the idol I've
got here. It'll turn into a girl too, I bet, and I hope somebody
treats you just the way you're treating me!" She realized the instant
that she touched her purse that the statuette was gone. " - Hell, I
must have left the damned thing back at Rona's."

	"I'm too tired for all this crap," Jim sighed. "Look, you're a
kook, but I like you. There's something, well, kind of sweet about
you. I'd like to get to know you better. Do you have a place to stay?
We can get a room together."

	Bobbi sprang up and grabbed her purse. "That's enough, Jim!
You've been rotten to me! I thought we were friends, but you're out of
lunch now that I really need you. I never want to see you again!"

	"I'm sorry. We could have started something beautiful."

	"Oooo!" Bobbi exclaimed in fury as she stalked away from the
table, but the hopelessness of her situation dawned on her just then
and she stopped in her tracks.

	"Did you forget something, baby cakes?" asked Jim.

	"For Pete's sake, Jim, I - I'm penniless. I can't go home, and
the streets aren't safe at night for a - a woman. I just don't know
what to do anymore! I might get raped or killed! My life is over."

	Jim started feeling very guilty as he looked into those big
bloodshot eyes of hers. But the events of the night had made him
cranky and even unsympathetic. "Look, kid, I don't want to see you go
away empty-handed. You were good in bed. I almost dropped a bundle on
a girl in Sacramento last night anyway, so you can have it instead.
I'd say you earned about a hundred tonight." Jim opened his wallet,
took out five twenties, and laid them on the table.

	Bobbi looked at the money with a face that registered horror
and sickness. "Are you calling me a whore, Jim? Is that it? Why, Jim?
What did I do to make you think I was a whore?"

	Her legs felt weak and she weaved; for a second she looked
like she might fall over. Fighting to keep on her feet, she passed a
hand over her face. "Cassandra did something very cruel to me," she
began again, "but with a little help and a some trust I could have
bounced back.

	But I can't bounce back from this, Jim." Her voice broke. "Not
this."

	Bobbi McGee stood there, looking down at the money, her
falling tears moistening it like a warm summer rain. "I'd throw it
back in your face," she whispered, "but I need it. God help me, I need
it." She broke into sobs and hid her face in her hands.

	Jim dropped his glance, embarrassed and feeling guilty. "It's
yours - Miss. I'm sorry. I didn't mean - "

	Bobbi straightened. "I know what you meant!"

	Bobbi picked up the money as quickly as she could and then
fled out the door. Left alone, Jim drank deeply of his coffee,
thinking about all the craziness that had happened that night. This
girl, whoever she was, had deserved something better, though he didn't
know exactly why he should think that. He did know that he could have
handled the situation better. If only he hadn't been so preoccupied
with Rona, and if Bobbi hadn't threw him for a loop with that crazy
story about being Robert Wescott. As mixed-up as Bobbi seemed to be,
there was something about her that touched him. He was left feeling
about as bad as a man could.

				* * *

	Jim had never lived through a day like the one which followed
his strange encounter with Bobbi McGee. Before it was over, he was
frantically driving around the city, anxiously questioning the clerk
of every motel near the cafe where he had last seen her. Finally he
had managed to discover that the mysterious girl had stayed in the
Balmoral, but only for one night, then had checked out. The clerk on
duty only knew that she had bought a newspaper at the office just
before she had left, and had asked him if he had heard about any
unskilled labor jobs in the city.

	Thank God she's planning to stay in the city for now! Jim
thought. He got himself a copy of the same newspaper and checked out
every job that a girl without a past might apply for. Some businesses
remembered seeing the scantily-clad young woman - in fact very few
could forget her - but none of them would hire a person who didn't
even have a library card for identification. Jim exhausted every
possibility and for weeks thereafter he spent a large part of each day
just driving around, looking for Bobbi's face, especially in those
areas where poor working class people worked, ate, or shopped. And
every day made him hate himself the more for what he had done.

	But then, one afternoon -

				* * *

	Working hard carrying soft drinks and burgers to hungry
motorists, Bobbi had gradually lost her loathing for her uniform, the
white, hip-hugging short-shorts and the tight, sleeveless, midriff-
baring red T-shirt. Being a carhop at Spanky's Root Beer Station
didn't pay well, but at least it kept Bobbi from getting drooled on by
the homeless at the free shelter, or needing to sell her body. She was
having her first period, though, and felt both ill-humored and
uncomfortable. Thankfully, menstruation, as bad as it was, meant that
she wasn't carrying Jim's child. That was certainly one of the few
good discoveries to come her way since she had been a woman.

	Lost in thought, Bobbi tripped over a teenager who was so
preoccupied with her legs that he couldn't keep his own big feet out
of her way. The carhop dropped her tray of waste Styrofoam and paper
cups on the concrete before she caught herself. The brisk wind
threatened to spread it far and wide. "S-Sorry, Miss," the youth
stammered as he slipped away without offering to help her. Shaking her
head, Bobbi bent down to resignedly pick up the mess while she still
could.

	"I'm glad to see that you're all right, Rob!" someone said
from behind her. Startled to hear her real name spoken, Bobbi stood
up, turned, and saw a familiar Ford Taurus.

	"Jim!" Bobbi cried as she recognized the driver. Then she
remembered what had happened the last time they had been together and
got angry all over again. "Oh, it's you!" She turned away and stomped
back to the serving counter; Jim switched off his ignition, got out of
the car, and pursued her.

	"Rob, wait!" yelled Jim. "I haven't been able to sleep for
worrying about you!"

	When she wouldn't turn, he caught her by the arm. "Will you
leave me alone!" Bobbi exclaimed. "If you want a whore, go down that
street!"

	"Bobbi, don't. I've been going crazy. I've been watching for
your face everywhere, I've been calling your friends, visiting the
shelters, checking the hospitals - reading the obituaries."

	"Hey, you're calling me Rob! Do you finally believe me?"

	"I had to believe you - after I saw Rona."

	"What do you mean?"

	"She went to sleep next to that idol that you left in her
bedroom - and she turned into - a guy."

	"Oh, no! Poor Rona!"

	Jim put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "It wasn't so bad.
She got used to it really quick. We became great buddies. It turned
out that we even liked the same sort of women!"

	"Rona had to change sex in front of your eyes before you'd
believe me?" Bobbi asked sarcastically.

	"I'm trying to say that I'm sorry for the way I treated you,
Rob. Can you ever forgive me?"

	Bobbi looked him over critically. "What if I don't? Maybe I
should keep you on a guilt trip for the rest of your life."

	"Maybe you should," Jim replied grimly.

	Bobbi shook her head and gave him a friendly punch in the arm.
"Screw that! You're forgiven, you big dumb lug. You're a fourteen
caret bastard, but what the hell good does it do me to carry a
grudge?"

	"Great!" cried Jim and, without thinking, he threw his arms
around Bobbi and crushed her against his chest. Then, realizing what
he was doing, and who he was doing it to, he let her go.

	"Sorry." Bobbi smoothed her hair. "Forget it. I've been
needing a hug for a long time."

	"A hug? I'm so glad to see you that I could kiss you. Get in
the car. I'll take you out of here."

	"Where are we going?"

	"You can stay with me."

	"With you and Rona?"

	"No. Rona calls herself - himself - Ron now and she's taken
off. He met this girl whose father owns a chemical plant out east.
Actually, they've known each other for years and were best girl
friends. But when they got together accidentally as a man and a woman,
this strange chemistry just took over. They dated, they slept
together, and finally Ron popped the question. He even admitted to her
who he really was. She actually believed him, liked the idea, and
accepted!" Jim shook his head. "I told Ron that he shouldn't jump into
a hasty marriage, but - "

	"Marriage after only one month a man! Jeez, I wish I could
adjust that easily - not that I want to be anyone's wife."

	"Well, you'll feel much better once you're back among
friends."

	"Friends? What friend did I ever have, except you? I had
acquaintances, colleagues, lovers, but not friends."

	"Make new friends, then! Start small and build from the
foundation, right?"

	A horn honked; a customer needed service. "I have to get back
to work, Jim. Come back for me at seven and I'll go with you."

	"Seven? Why?"

	"I get off work then."

	"Rob!"

	I can't run out on these people on such a busy day. In fact,
I'd better give Spanky's a couple days notice so they can find a
replacement."

	"Are you heat-struck? You don't have to give notice to a root
beer stand!" "I think I should, Jim. The managers saved my life. When
I showed up here I was at my last gasp. I was ready to jump off a
bridge. The only other job offer I had was from a pimp downtown. I
didn't have any identity; only the fact that I cast a shadow proved
that I actually existed! Spanky's managers thought that I was an
illegal alien, but they helped me anyway. I owe them a lot."

	Jim touched her chin, lifted it, and gazed understandingly
into her blue eyes. "You were always a great guy, Rob Wescott. Now
you're a great gal. You just keep getting better and better."

	"You'd better get used to calling me Bobbi McGee," the young
woman advised him with a wane smile.

				* * *

	By the end of the weekend, Bobbi's carhop career lay behind
her. The last few days had been full of settling in and busy planning.
The two friends were now taking a needed break, sitting upon the
carpet, a deck of cards and a discard pile between them. Bobbi sat
wondering whether she should risk her twenty cents in the pot with
just one pair of kings, or go for an outside straight.

	That first night at Jim's apartment he had asked her whether
she had any plans. Bobbi had stared at him very seriously. "There's a
lot more to this curse than we thought, Jim. I have this compulsion.
It's been eating on me and eating on me." She covered her face. "I
can't fight it any longer. Whatever you think, whatever the world
thinks, I just have to give in to it. I hope you'll still be able to
respect me."

	"What do you mean?" asked Jim.

	"I have to become a French maid!"

	"That's good," Jim had replied with a thoughtful nod.
"Terrific working conditions, great benefits. And there's lots of work
out there. In fact, I could use a little French maid myself. I saw
this really cute uniform in one of Rona's lingerie catalogs. Lacy
panties, short-short skirt, and an itsy-bitsy five-layered petticoat.
You'll love it! I'll love it!"

	"Then wear it yourself, sucker!"

	"I'm glad you can joke about this, Bobbi," Jim had laughed. "I
think you're going to be all right." "I'm not going to let this thing
beat me, that's for sure," Bobbi had declared firmly. "Cassandra
probably wanted me commit suicide, or become a drunk, or a druggie or
something. Well, she's not going to have the satisfaction! I'm going
to live a good and productive life, Jim, if it kills me. That's the
best way I know of to get back at her."

	As I see it, what you need most right now is a solid
identity."

	"Yeh? How do I get one?"

	"You can be Rona!"

	Bobbi had looked up, her brow furrowed. "Rona?!"

	She and I talked the idea over, just in case we ever found
you. She left all her old documents with me, for you to use. She left
everything, in fact, except her money."

	"She'd do that for me?!"

	"Rona was a little excitable, Bobbi, but a great - person - at
heart. And she always did like you as Rob."

	Bobbi had concurred. "She even liked me as Bobbi McGee, until
she thought I'd double-crossed her. But how can I go around as Rona?
People knew her."

	Jim had shook his head. "She wrote all her friends and told
them that she was entering a reclusive religious order and that she
wouldn't be coming back. That took care of one angle. Better yet, she
didn't have any relatives who'll ever bother to check up on her."

	Bobbi had considered the possibility carefully. "It could
work. She and I were both in the realty business. I could apply for a
decent job using Rona's resume. But it still might be smart if I moved
to a different city."

	"If you do that," Jim had begun carefully, "would you mind it
if I came along with you?"

	Bobbi had looked at him intensely just then, as if seeing him
for the first time.

				* * *

	"Two cards," Jim called suddenly, bringing Bobbi back from the
past. She peeled a couple cards off the deck and tossed them to his
side.

	Bobbi thought of Rona's hasty marriage. Rona had become a
straight guy in a matter of just a couple weeks. But even after a
month, Bobbi still didn't know where she stood. She had been fighting
the idea of having a sexual attraction to men with more ferocity than
Custer fighting the Indians. But, deep down, what did she really feel?
It was a troubling thought for a person who had never had a gay bone
in his - her - body.

	Bobbi decided that she could not afford to be rigidly fixed
upon the past. She had to stop thinking left to right and start
thinking right to left. Cassandra's magic certainly could change the
body. But did it change the emotions also? Bobbi was beginning to
think that it did. Maybe the witch herself hadn't fully understood
power of the idol, that the wound it inflicted actually carried its
own healing. Bobbi smiled to herself. That was why Cassandra's revenge
would always be a hollow one.

	Would Bobbi want to be a man again if she could? Yes - in a
minute! It would have been a relief to be able to take refuge once
again in what was safe and familiar. Rob had had a routine, a past, he
was working toward a future. He had been able to take comfort in the
familiar around him. Now those familiar things were gone and Bobbi
suspected that there would be no going back to them. But what lay
ahead in this strange new life? That was the question that kept her
lying awake at night.

	Bobbi was pretty sure that she could not recreate the female
equivalent of Rob's bon vivant style. It wasn't just the physical
obstacles that her anatomy presented. Events had changed her heart
even more magic had changed her shape. She had no more taste for the
promiscuous adventuring that had defined Rob's social life. Bobbi
suddenly had a frightening thought. Was it a woman's instinct taking
over her mind, urging her to seek stability and permanence in her
relationships, crowding out the taste for the kind of variety and
adventure that a man craved - or was it just a kind of enlightenment
that a human being sometimes must come by the hard way?

	Bobbi had kept to her little rented room near Spanky's,
drinking the bitter drops of loneliness to their dregs. She had
finally grasped the fact that though she had had many lovers as Rob,
Rob had no love to speak of. Had that situation been Rob's fault? she
had wondered. Was it because Rob had failed again and again to truly
give of himself that no one now had anything to give to Bobbi in
return? That had to change, the young woman vowed. She couldn't remain
a spiritual hermit; she had to be a part of life, even the drab and
the risky part of life.

	A new body, a new identity, a new job, a new style, even a new
sex. This was a good time to make some serious changes.

	Bobbi had begun to feel very strangely about Jim. She had been
very touched by his effort to find and to save her. But it was more
than just that. Bobbi was starting to enjoy his company - no, his
nearness - in ways that she never had before. The sound of Jim's
voice, that cocky expression in his brown eyes, even the knot in his
necktie, stirred her like only the beauty of a girl had before.

	The young woman watched her comrade as he poured over his
cards. More and more with passing time her mind had gone back to the
night that she and Jim had made love. During those first few days
afterwards she had recoiled from the memory with horror. But, over the
following empty weeks, it had come back to her, like a butterfly
breaking out from the skin of its hideous pupa, the same thing
basically, but with newer, deeper, and more beautiful aspects bursting
into display.

	But what was she thinking? Her and Jim? Lovemaking? That was
crazy. They loved one another, truly, and in so many ways, but they
never could love one another that way - could they? Bobbi couldn't
forget that Rona had found love with her own best friend. Best
friends. What a wonderful phrase that was. For some reason the Frank
Sinatra song that she had heard on her last night as a man came back
to her now:

	"The simple secret of the plot, Is just to tell them that I
love you a lot. Then the world discovers as my book ends, How to make
two lovers of friends."

	No! That was crazy! Bobbi thought. It would be much smarter,
if she had to get involved with a male, to make it someone - anyone -
other than Jim. Somebody who didn't know about her past, someone who
wouldn't carry around all that baggage of past associations about
their past skirt-chasing and masculine camaraderie.

	But Rona had found love with an old friend. Their friendship
must not have been a hindrance, but might even have helped things
along. Jim and she, Bobbi knew, had so much in common. Sports,
politics, music - as well as that indefinable trust that allowed two
friends to tell one another their problems and worries without self-
consciousness. Maybe what the pair of them had had up to now
presented a good foundation on which to build something new.

	To his credit, Jim had been cleaning up his act lately. He had
been loyal to one girl while Rob had been going though more a half
dozen. Could Jim be faithful to one person for the very long haul?
Could Bobbi? Bobbi had definitely acquired a new respect for loyalty
and consistency of late. She wondered whether the two of them -

	Damn! She had to stop thinking that way! Oh, this man-woman
business was so confusing!

	Suddenly Jim passed his hand in front of her eyes. "Earth to
Bobbi. This is Houston. Are you reading us, Bobbi?"

	"Sorry, Jim. I've got a lot to think about."

	"I guess you do. It must be hard coping. What's it like, being
a woman?

	Bobbi shrugged. "I'm still on the first chapter, buddy. I'll
tell you when I'm deeper into the book."

	"Maybe you could write a book of your own!"

	"Maybe I could."

	But how would the book end? Bobbi wondered.

	"I wouldn't like reading the part about what we two did
together. It must have been pretty bad for you, right?"

	Bobby tossed down her cards. "Don't keep beating yourself up
about that, Jim. To tell the truth, I wasn't so drunk that night that
I couldn't have said something. Even while it was happening I guess I
thought that it was - well, sort of interesting."

	"I knew it!" crowed Jim, at once happy and relieved. "A man
can always tell when the woman under him is liking it!"

	"Yeh, I guess we can," nodded Bobbi absently. She had for so
long been thinking along those lines that old habits were hard to
break.

	"By the way Jim," she suddenly asked, "what did you do with
that idol?"

	"Oh, that. Rona and I tried to use it turn her back into a
woman that second night, but when that didn't work, I put it into a
safe-deposit box. I hope nobody falls asleep in the bank vault."

	"I'd have smashed the thing - or sent it to a politician that
I didn't like!" Then she added with a naughty laugh, "Hey, we could
have our first woman president!"

	"You're not thinking, buddy. That idol might be valuable
someday, especially I can just find a rich, frustrated transsexual. In
fact, why sell it at all? Just rent it out a night at a time. It can
make people happy. You know, doing well by doing good."

	"Hey! If you're going into business, I deserve a cut of the
action! It's my statue!"

	"You've got it, Partner!" Jim replied with that same grin that
had been sending shivers down Bobbi's spine lately. He extended his
hand. "Shake on it?"

	Bobbi's eyes met his enigmatically but didn't take the
proffered hand. It seemed to Jim that she was making some sort of
important decision.

	"You know, in the old days men and women thought it was
uncouth to shake hands together," she suddenly said.

	Jim lowered his hand. "Yeh? What did they do?"

	"Maybe it's time I demonstrated."

	Jim had turned over to her Rona's entire wardrobe - and that
woman had been a clothes horse. Now Bobbi had everything she needed
for every occasion - except that she had to replace Rona's B-cups with
C's. At the moment she was wearing a pair of old yellow pajamas bought
for a dollar at the Salvation Army store a couple weeks earlier. She
had been briefly tempted to lounge around instead in one of Rona's
little baby dolls or camis. If she had been alone, she definitely
would have. But clothing sent a message, and when the evening had
begun, Bobbi still hadn't decided what sort of messages she should be
sending to her friend Jim.

	But now Bobbi began to unbutton her pajama tops, very slowly,
very deliberately, her eyes whimsical and coy. Jim sucked nearly all
the air in the room when he saw his best friend's breasts fall bare.

	"Oh, Bobbi," he said with a dry swallow, "I'm game, but - but
are you sure - ?

	Bobbi was sure. She put her thumbs into the waistband of her
bottoms, pushed them down to her ankles, and then kicked them off. She
wished now that she had worn one of Rona's outfits after all. Yes, a
baby doll, some make-up, and maybe a dab of perfume - Magic Midnight
would have been perfect. Poker was fun, she was thinking, but strip
poker would add a challenge the following night. Both her and her
buddy liked chess. She wondered if there was such a thing as strip
chess. In her mind she was already in bed with Jim.

	Jim reached out, a question written deeply in his face, and
placed his hand upon the roundness of his girl friend's hip. Bobbi put
her hand over his, and with the other arm enfolded his neck, drawing
Jim's mouth up against hers. The sandpaper-like texture of his chin
and upper lip felt strange to one used to kissing the tender faces of
girls, but Bobbi McGee knew that she would have to get used to it. She
would have to get used to a lot of new things. The weeks ahead would
certainly be a learning process.

	But Robert Wescott had always been a quick study.

			       The End