"Yes, that's the girl of my dreams that I've been wanting!" he said.

"I'm glad you like her" said the fairy godmother, who was starting to fade from view.

Allan felt incredibly tired, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

In the morning, Allan was awoken by the buzzer on the clock radio. What a wonderful dream he had last night. Oh, if only it was true! He opened his eyes, and was excited that perhaps it was real. Perhaps he would meet that girl today! And she would be completely his!

He reached over to hit the snooze button, and immediately realized that something was wrong. First of all, why would he set the buzzer for 6:00am? He didn't have to be to school until 7:30. It didn't take that long to get ready. He almost screamed. This wasn't his room! Even in the dark, he could tell that it wasn't his furniture. And he certainly didn't have a four poster bed with a canopy!

As Allan fumbled to turn off the buzzer, he felt strange. He tried to turn on a light, and had to struggle to find the switch. How did he get here? Where was he? Why did he feel so wrong.

He sat up on the bed and had a shock go through him as his chest bounced. His chest? He reached up with his hands, and felt his chest. Instead of his youthful muscular chest, his hands were cupped around two mounds of firm young female flesh. Breasts. He let out a high pitched scream.

Allan stood up, and pulled open the blinds to let more light into the room. He quickly found the light switch, and turned it on. He had to squint from the bright light, but as soon as his eyes adjusted, he looked in the mirror. His jaw dropped open as he saw his reflection. He was the girl from the vision last night. He was her! No! Impossible!

Allan touched his pretty face. His fingers were not his own. There were long, thin and pretty with long bright red nails at the ends. His wrists were thin, and his arms too. Instead of his youthful muscular frame, he was now a young woman, with the smaller shoulders, thin waist, the start of feminine curves, long smooth legs, and everything.

He brushed the long brown hair out of his eyes, and noticed his finely plucked eyebrows. No! He was so upset. He started to cry. And that upset him even more. He was feeling emotions in such a strange way now. They seemed so powerful, that they were controlling his actions more than the logic in his brain. Logic that was breaking down, because this was impossible.

It must be a dream. He would wake up any second. But as he touched himself, he realized that this was no dream, it was real. He saw through a door that he had an attached bathroom, so he went in there and started the shower. He took off the nightie, and walked into the tub, pulling the curtain closed. He looked down, and gaped at the breasts. His gaze moved further down, across his slim smooth tummy, and to the tuft of brown curly hair, neatly trimmed into a rectangle. He touched it, and moved his finger down further to confirm the worst: between his legs he now had a slight mound with a slit that let his finger grudgingly in.

He was a girl now. A real girl. Oh no. This was terrible! He found his hands were washing his long dark hair with a silky conditioning shampoo, almost automatically. He washed off his body, and shaved his legs, again with the body seeming to know what to do.

He got out of the shower, and was fascinated that even drying off was different. Instead of pulling the towel across his face, he patted it dry. After drying off the body, he put the towel around his long hair, and wrapped it up so that it stayed in place. Then he put on a bathrobe.

He was glad that his new body knew what to do, because he sure didn't. Looking at all the bottles and vials of cosmetics and stuff on the counter, he was completely lost. He brushed his teeth, then went into the walk-in closet. He took off the robe, and began to dress.

First came a strapless bra, with a white frilly edge, and a little pink flower on the front. Then a pair of matching panties, followed by a pair of ecru hose. Next came a tank top with very thin straps. A short black skirt was next, not even down half way between the waist and the knee. Last was a see-through blouse, white with lacy patterns. The tank top was quite clear underneath it, which helped to accentuate and draw attention the lovely breasts.

Next, he walked back to the bathroom and began to blow dry the long hair. He used a brush and with just a little volumizer was able to get a nice look. Then he went to the makeup mirror, and began to expertly apply a little foundation, blush, eye shadow, eye liner, mascara, lip liner, and lipstick. Satisfied, he went back to the closet and found a good pair of black flats.

He was so glad that the body was on cruise control. He would have been totally lost otherwise. He walked over to the table, picked up a small black purse with a long thin strap, slung it over his shoulder, and walked out the door.

"Laura, you're too late for breakfast again. Chrissie is waiting for you in the driveway. Here, take a banana. You need to eat you're too thin. And don't forget your books. You look pretty. Give mommy a kiss."

"I've...I've got to run" said Allan in a voice alien to him, with a sultry alto tonality.

Allan was in a daze, it was all happening so fast. He was Laura now? He grabbed the book bag and walked out the front door. A girl was waiting in a silver VW Jetta.

"Laura, get in! You're going to make us late again."

"Uh, sorry" said Allan.

"You've got any left?" asked Chrissie as the pulled into the street with a squeal of tires.

"Any what?"

"Smokes, silly. What's wrong with you? Get up on the wrong side of the bed."

"Something like that" said Allan, reaching inside the purse. He found two cigarettes, and handed her one.

"You're not going to smoke today?" said Chrissie. "What's wrong with you? You're not yourself."

"You've got that right" thought Allan, but he sat in silence as Chrissie lit up. She started talking, a mile a minute. He was in a daze, and didn't know what to say or do. Chrissie pulled the car over with the brakes pressed so hard that Allan's purse fell off his lap and onto the ground.

"What gives?" asked Chrissie. "Are you mad at me? Come on, talk to me! What's wrong with you? What did I do to you? You're too quiet. Talk to me!"

"I...I don't know what to say."

Chrissie started crying.

"You hate me" she said.

"I don't hate you. I just can't tell you what I...."

"You what? You're seeing Michael behind my back? Is that it?"

"No, I don't even know who that is."

"You do too miss 'steal my boyfriend again'!"

"Chrissie, you won't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"You're not....no. I can't."

"We're not moving until you tell me what's wrong."

"OK, but this is going to sound far fetched to you."

"Go on. Give me the dish" she said.

"Don't say I didn't warn you" said Allan. "You see, I'm not Laura. I'm a boy named Allan, and when I woke up today, I was in this body. I don't even know who I am! Where I am! What my full name is. I'm just a boy, and I think I'm going crazy. How can I be a girl? I'm not your friend Laura. I'm Allan."

"Oh that's a good one. What, were you kidnapped by aliens? I better go call the Inquirer!"

"No, it's true. I told you that you wouldn't believe me."

"If you're really a boy, then tell me: how did you get yourself so pretty this morning."

"It was like my hands knew what to do. I didn't have a clue. I would still be staring at the bottle of pink stuff on the counter, not knowing what to do with it."

"If you're really a boy, then tell me: why do guys go gaga over you, but not me? I'm just as pretty!"

"These" said Allan, cupping his hands over his boobs.

"What? What about my face? My manicured fingers? My carefully done up hair?"

"Nice, but I don't think most guys would care if your nails were pink, blue or black. You're pretty, but if you were with this Laura that I've somehow become, she, I mean I, would get all the attention."

"What about this. If you're really a guy, tell me something. How come you don't seem to have any feelings, except for the need for sex?"

Allan said nothing.

"Come on, you're supposed to be a girl now. Talk to me. And not a one word answer again!"

"Well, we, I mean boys, have feelings too, but I tell you something. Its nothing like I'm getting in this body. I cried this morning! I haven't cried since I was a little kid. Its like I'm overreacting to everything. I don't know how you handle it. It feels overwhelming to me."

"Well, you certainly act like a guy. That's why you weren't talking to me?"

"Yes!"

"Well, this is certainly interesting. I don't know if I can believe you, of if this is some stunt you're pulling on me."

Allan reached down to the floor to pick up the purse that had fallen and spilled open.

"What's this?" he asked, holding up an OB, wrapped in plastic.

"A tampon silly."

"Yuck."

"Yuck? You wear those all the time."

"Gross."

"Gross? You've been having a period for years now."

"A period?"

"Stop that!" said Chrissie.

"Stop what?" asked Allan.

"Talking like a guy."

"But I am a guy"

"Well, you're Laura now. And we're going to be late for school. Just shut up and follow my lead. You're in all my classes, so just stick close to me and you'll be ok."

"Thanks" said Allan.

They pulled up to the school, and walked up to the front door. The principal, Mr. Jackson was there waiting for them with his hands folded.

"Ah, we have some tardy students. You are going to get detention young ladies. This is your fourth tardy this quarter."

"Oh please Mr. Jackson, there is a good reason we're late" said Chrissie.

"This had better be good" said the tall man, unimpressed. He had heard a lot of excuses before, and wasn't going to let them fool him.

"You see, we were on time, driving here, when Laura started. You know, her time of the month."

Chrissie elbowed Laura, who reached into her purse to pull out a tampon.

"We had to pull over so I could put one in and..." said Allan.

"I don't want to hear this. Just put that thing away and get to your class. And don't be late again young ladies!"

"Oh thank you Mr. Jackson!" said Chrissie as the scooted into the door before he changed his mind.

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