"Is this Mitchie? Hi Mitchie. This is Claire from college. Remember me? I need your help, badly. Please call me at..." I scribbled down the number and...sat back in my chair. Did I remember her? Is the Pope Catholic? Where had she been all these years? Claire and I met as roomies in college and were soon inseparable; our dorm mates called us sisters.In the fall quarter of our junior year, I returned to our dorm room from my job at the college bookstore to find her side cleaned out. Not a scrap of. It was like someone had pulled heavy curtains over the windows. She had been here before she realized. A tube sprouted from a needle in her left arm and crawled its way up to a clear bag hung on a chrome stand. Other uncomfortable things were connected to her as well: connecting wires to electronics or taking care of functions that she'd just as well do in private, thank you very much.Back in the hospital she thought. She tried to lift her head to see more of her surroundings and her chin. No women fucked with me either. Cotton changed me, for a time. When the children came home with pictures of their father’s new family I took delight in noticing that Bradley’s forehead had grown and his young wife’s thighs carried a flabby overlay, extending from her abundant butt. They looked happy with their baby boy between them. I had always been proud of my athletic body. I secretly resumed the exercises that had always kept my thighs, though muscular, firm and slim. I had been a gymnast. Sara then sentJennifer to select some outfits for me, "nice, teenage, colorful andfeminine," she said, "and absolutely no slacks." Amanda says she wears the pants at the Paradise View," Sara whisperedto me as she pulled me towards the ladies dressing room."Now strip," Sara ordered, "and let's hurry!" In front of you," I protested."Yes, dear cousin. After all, I've seen what's in your pants,remember?"Soon, with Sara's help, I was wearing pantyhose, lacy rose coloredpanties with matching.
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