WereWoman (3 page)

They did not reply. They were too busy rubbing their bruises.

“Now get this, morons,” Bear continued. “Phil here is my friend. Anybody beats on him or even teases him will answer to me. Got it?”

They stared at him rebelliously.

He stepped toward them, his strong arms reaching. “Got it?” he repeated with more force.

Now they answered. “Got it,” the leader agreed, intimidated. He knew when he was up against a bigger bully.

Bear nodded. “Spread the word. It annoys me when kids are stupid. I don't want to have to do this again.”

The two of us walked on, leaving the bullies behind. “That was something!” I said, awed.

“Weres look out for Weres.”

“You sure looked out for me! But I don't know how I can repay the favor.”

Bear shrugged. “You don't have to. Just be my friend.”

“I'll be your friend,” I agreed, dazed.

He walked me to my schoolroom, then went on to his. I was in third grade, he in fifth grade, same school.

Between classes I passed the bullies in the hallway. They completely ignored me. They had gotten the message. They never bothered me again.

I walked home with Bear, not for protection but because I liked him. He was the first boy who had stood up for me. Also, there was this “Were” business. He could Change into a bear, and he was sure I could do something similar. I wanted to know what. There was something about him I could sense; it could be that I was picking up on his Wereness, as he said Weres could recognize each other. We walked to and from school regularly thereafter, and no one ever even looked askance. The word had indeed gotten around. Just as well, because if they ever tried to gang up on Bear, he could Change and really maul them.

I looked up WereWolf in my dictionary, and learned that it meant man-wolf: a man who could become a wolf. Or, in India, a tiger, or in South America, a jaguar. There were many types, and certainly a WereBear was within the framework. Were obviously meant man as in mankind, not gender, so theoretically there would be female Weres too. So was I a wolf? Bear didn't think so; he called me odd, with no disparagement. What could be odd to a Were?

Time passed, and I studied the subject without letting others know. I knew that just as there was continuing if muted prejudice against minorities, such as foreigners, Jews, or gays, it wouldn't be muted against Weres. The consensus seemed to be that there were limits, such as the conservation of mass: there could not be a WereHummingbird or a WereElephant. Bear was a big boy and a small bear. Whatever I was had to be my same weight.

One day I passed a new girl in the school hall, and felt it: she was a Were! I halted, turning to look at her, only to find her doing the same. “You're one!” she breathed.

“Can we meet after school?” I asked. She was ordinary, neither pretty nor plain, with short curly brown hair and brown eyes, but her Were-aura made appearance almost irrelevant. In fact it made her supremely attractive to me.

“Yes!” She was reacting to me the way I was reacting to her. We were like two magnets.

We did meet in the few minutes before she had to board her school bus home. We exchanged introductions. She was Molly, my age of eleven, just transferred here because of brutal teasing at her prior school.

“I know how it is,” I said. “You must meet my friend Bear.”

“Is he—?”

“Yes. He scared off the bullies.”

“Girls are mean in different ways.”

“But maybe he can help. Look, Molly, can you miss the bus? I know my folks will drive you home if I ask them to. We've just got to get to know each other better.”

“The bus is worse than the classes,” she said, signaling her acceptance of the deal.

I took her to meet Bear. He too spotted her nature instantly, and she his. They shook hands. “I'm a bitch,” she said. “A female wolf.”

“I'm a bear, like my name.”

“I don't know what I am,” I said, feeling vaguely excluded.

The three of us walked to my home, talking all the way. Bear left us there, and I took Molly inside. “Mom, my friend Molly missed the bus, and I told her—”

Mom assessed the situation instantly. She had never said so, but I knew she was a bit wary of my close association with Bear, maybe fearing I was going to turn out gay. I was with a girl! “Of course. Get in the car.”

“It's so wonderful to meet you and Bear,” Molly confided as we rode in the back seat.

“We're glad to meet you too.” That was about all I could say, because of course my Were nature was secret from my parents, as Bear's was to his folks, and surely Molly's to hers. We all instinctively knew that we could reveal ourselves only to our own kind.

We arrived at her house in the suburb. “Thank you so much,” Molly said to Mom. Then she quickly kissed me on the cheek and got out.

I was eleven, too young to date. Theoretically too young to love. But that kiss electrified me. I had an instant crush on Molly.

Mom had seen it in the rear view mirror. She said nothing, but did not disapprove. I had a girlfriend. No one teased me about it, maybe because that would annoy Bear. No one teased Molly either, maybe for the same reason. Bear was the toughest boy in school, and girls admired that.

Both Bear and Molly worked with me to find my Were-form. First I had to find my Name. I struggled, and finally centered on Luv, maybe because I loved Molly and Bear, in different ways. I repeated it endlessly, concentrating on changing, while they urged me on. And finally it happened: I felt the shift beginning. I hastily got out of my clothes, knowing they were an impediment, not caring that Molly could see me naked; she understood absolutely, and had been naked before me when she Changed.

And I became—a girl. Both Bear and Molly stared. Then they both felt me, thinking there was some mistake. But it was true. I lost some height and got broader across the hips, and my legs filled out somewhat. I did not have breasts, but I had lost my penis and formed a vulva. I was definitely female.

“That's why you're odd!” Bear said. “Maybe a girl is a different kind of creature.”

“If Were means man, woman means not-man,” Molly said. “You're a WereWoman.”

I looked at her with dismay. “Does this finish you and me?”

She laughed. “Not at all! Some time we'll go out together in a forest, woman and bitch. Otherwise I know you, Phil. You're definitely a boy.”

“I definitely am,” I agreed. “I'm in a girl's body, but I'm still male.”

“Just as I'm still a girl when I'm a bitch,” she agreed.

“And I'm a boy when I'm a bear,” Bear said.

“But I think you need a little help,” Molly said. “I'll get you one of my old dresses, next time, and show you how to do your hair and makeup.”

“Thanks,” I said weakly. Then I spoke my Name backward, Vul, and slowly shifted back to male. I had accomplished my first Change.

As a male I was Philemon, Phil for short. As a female I was Philomena, Mena for short. I did go for walks in the forest as Mena, with Molly the Wolf. That gave us both practice in the forms. Sometimes Bear joined us, as the bear. It was great.

In the course of the next few months not only did I become practiced in changing forms, I began to fill out in the female manner. Molly lent me her old training bra, then a fuller one, glad to facilitate my conversion. She taught me how to be a girl. When we went on a three-person date to a movie, Bear with two pretty if rather young girls, and the only stares we got were of envy, I knew I had graduated. I would not have chosen to be female; I would much rather have been an ordinary wolf like Molly. But at least I was getting competent with what I was.

Next year Molly and I were twelve and Bear was fourteen, in ninth grade. She was forming into a shapely young woman. Other boys took an interest in her, but she brushed them off, staying with me. I too was maturing in my Were state, actually into an even more shapely creature. “You're a knockout!” Bear said, and Molly agreed, without envy. But I still didn't feel female; it was strictly an act, apart from the body.

We saw less of Bear now, because he was in high school, but we remained in touch on weekends. We became aware of a problem. “I'd like to attend the Prom,” Bear said. “It's the prime social event. But I have no date.”

“There are many girls who would like to go,” Molly said. “Ask one.”

He fidgeted. “I'm not good with girls. I like them, but I can't handle them the way I can boys.” It was true; he had no girlfriend. He was big and strong, and girls admired him, at least from a distance, but he wasn't much for social graces. He would mess it up if he tried to ask one, humiliating himself.

I remembered how much I owed him. I thought of a way to perhaps repay some of it. “Maybe you could take Molly. There's no age limit on dates.”

“She's your girl! I wouldn't touch her.”

Molly picked up on it. “You wouldn't have to kiss me or feel me. Just escort me and dance with me. Treat me like a lady. I could show you what to do, beginning with some dancing lessons. It could be fun.”

He gazed at her with dawning hope. He was a klutz with girls, but Molly was different, being another Were. “You'd do that?”

“Weres look out for Weres.”

He was almost tearfully grateful. “Thank you! Thank you!” Then he looked at me. “If it's really okay with you.”

“It was okay with me the moment you took care of those bullies, that first day.” It was true; I'd do just about anything for Bear, and I know he wouldn't make a move on Molly.

We prepped him, helping him pick out the right clothing for himself, and a corsage for Molly. She danced with him, teaching him the steps, until he got it right. It was time consuming and expensive, but worth it. In the process I learned about dancing and proms too; that should help when I got to high school. I even practiced some as Mena, learning to let the man lead, learning to be girlish. I needed to be able to fake it, if I ever got caught out in that form.

The day before the Prom, Molly came down with the flu. No way she could go; she could hardly make it out of bed. “Oh, hell!” she swore, in angry tears when we visited her. “I'm letting you down.”

“It's all right,” Bear said. But he was in grief. He had paid for everything, and now it was wasted. It was too late for him to get another date, even if he had the social grace to do it. He needed the support of Molly.

“Phil—” Molly said.

Oh, no! Was she thinking what I feared?

She was. “Mena knows the moves as well as you do,” she said. “My dress would fit her, with a little loosening in the bosom and hips. I think I could do that much, before I conk out entirely.”

“I—” I said, in a swirl of confusion. A public event, as a girl?

“We owe it to Bear,” she reminded me.

What could I do? “I'll do it,” I agreed glumly.

So it was that I attended the Prom as Bear's young date, using Molly's dress, slippers, corsage, and makeup. She even managed to do my hair before she collapsed into the oblivion of the flu and medication. Yes, I was twelve, but Mena was a remarkably pretty girl, externally. My Phil handsomeness, I now appreciated, was probably a function of my Were status: there was a bit of the girl in me, carrying across. Conservation of appearance as well as mass, maybe.

We explained at the entrance that Bear's date Molly had the flu, and I, as her friend from out of town, was substituting. All of which was true, if incomplete.

And it was glorious. I saw immediately that half the attendees were no more experienced than I was, making gaffs that embarrassed them and gratified me. I danced with Bear as we had practiced, thinking of myself as Molly, emulating her moves, focusing on making him look good. I drank punch in delicate sips, spilling none. Between dances I sat on the sideline and did not cross my legs.

Then came the other boys asking me to dance. I tried to demur, but then other girls took Bear onto the floor and I knew that this was a social coup for him I didn't want to mess up. So we danced with others, and Bear was thrilled, and I was thrilled for him. Meanwhile I focused on not embarrassing him, by being the best dancer I could be, so they would know he had a quality date. It worked; I was amazed to find myself dancing with juniors and even seniors five years older than I. Not bad for a girl of twelve!

But there were negatives. Some of them danced me into obscure corners and grabbed feels, and I couldn't stop them without making a scene. I simply took their hands and removed them from my buttocks as if the touches were accidental. It was harder to stop the looks down into my décolletage, or the too-tight embraces, or the rubbing bellies. But I realized that these were problems every girl faced, and consoled myself imagining their chagrin if they realized that they were doing it to a boy.

It was a relief to get back to Bear, whose hands behaved themselves. We finished out the Prom in excellent style.

And to my amazement, Mena even got an award for “most appealing visitor,” voted by the boys. I was more of a success than I had realized. I did not care to speculate whether the subtext was “most appealing ass.”

“Thanks!” Bear said as we got our ride home.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” I said graciously, and we both laughed.

We never spoke of it thereafter, because Mena had officially returned to her town, and Phil had not even been at the Prom. But we remembered our success. I understand that Molly got several requests for the address of her friend Mena, but she refused to tell.

Next year Molly's family moved to another state, and she had no choice but to go with them, being only thirteen. I was heartbroken; maybe I was considered too young to be in love, but it certainly felt like it with her. We went on one final date the night before she left, and to hell with being too young; we had one thoroughly adult fling, the first sex for each of us. We exchanged letters for months thereafter, but gradually life got in the way, and we lost touch. But again, we remembered.