Twin Set

"Set point!"

My twin sister stuck out her tongue as she crept in front of the baseline. We had played against each other countless times, and it always seemed to come down to this, a long deuce or a tiebreaker at the end of a tense, competitive match. Although I was a boy and she was a girl, we were evenly matched, and I sometimes felt that the only edge I had over her was that she had to wear a tennis dress or skirt at the uber-conservative club that our parents belonged to.

I reached back and hit my hardest serve of the day, not that fast for a guy, but just fast enough to make her return spin harmlessly into the net. "You're no fun," she said with mock anger as we hugged at the net. I patted her on the head, mussing her hair, which was hardly longer than the shaggy mop I pulled back into a ponytail when we played.

"Not bad for a girl," I teased her as we gathered up our gear and strolled towards the clubhouse. We glanced at the ladder for the club championships, which seeded her first among the ladies in the club. My name was down near the bottom of the mens' rankings, and I'd already been eliminated from the tournament after a first round loss. She was set to play in the women's finals that weekend, and the match we'd just played was a tune-up for her.

We'd both been playing tennis since we were toddlers, trained under the same coach, and our playing styles were uncannily similar, like almost everything else about us. Except for our genders, we were as close to identical twins as a boy and a girl could be, down to our mannerisms and speech patterns. After living under the same roof for over eighteen years as brother and sister, we were also extremely close.

We disappeared into our separate locker rooms, and as always, I felt self-conscious in the shower. Most guys my age had shot up in height, and some were even sprouting facial and body hair, while I was still 5'6", same as my sister, who was beginning to fill out in all the right places for a girl. After I toweled off, I changed into jeans and a tee shirt and headed for the parking lot. She emerged from her locker room a few minutes later, stunning in a cute sundress. I'd always marveled at how effortlessly she was able to transform herself from a tomboy into a pretty girl.

"Hot date tonight?" I asked as we walked to the car that we shared, a beater that our mother had driven into the ground before we got our licenses on the day when we turned eighteen.

"Nah, just a girls' night out. A bunch of us are going to the mall. Hey, wanna come?"

She knew me well enough to know that the answer was yes, but that my answer would be no. What self-respecting teenage boy would want to hang out with his sister and her ditzy friends on a Friday night? Even if I had a hopeless crush on one of them?

"Nah, gotta study for the SAT's." That was one big difference between us: I was a straight A student with a real shot at an Ivy League college, whereas her grades began to plummet when her body began to blossom. These days, she was more into clothes and boys than math and history.

"Sheesh, you're taking them again? I thought you aced them last time."

"Yeah, but I might get my score up a bit, which could make a big difference."

"I'm the one who needs to get her score up. Hey, maybe you could put on a skirt and take them for me?" This wasn't the first time she'd made a lamebrain suggestion like that to get her out of some jam, so it went in one ear and out the other.

"In your dreams," I said. We got to our car, and since I was heading home, she drove. After she dropped me off, I went into the kitchen to hunt for something to tide me over until dinner.

I could hear my mother talking to someone on the phone as I hit the pantry. She didn't sound very happy. I should add that my mother married very young, and although she was in her mid thirties, she was still a beautiful woman, with a perfect face and figure. Both Carrie and I were spitting images of her.

I was polishing off a donut when she finally got off the phone and joined me in the kitchen. "Where's your sister," she asked disapprovingly as she eyed the donut crumbs on my face.

"Off to the mall."

"That girl! I know she hasn't done her homework, and now she's probably having junk food for dinner. Her diet is worse than yours!"

"Who was on the phone?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Your father. He's going to be stuck in Copenhagen for another two weeks, at least," she frowned. My dad was an international business executive, and he was often overseas for long stretches of time, but he was extremely well paid, and we could hardly complain about our lives in a beautiful home with a pool in a rich suburb.

"Bummer. At least Carrie and I can drive now, so you won't have to schlep us everywhere while he's away."

"You're right, and I'm going to need to depend on you both to behave responsibly the next few weeks." Her younger sister was pregnant with her fifth child, and mom had offered to fly to Florida to help watch her kids when the time came. "I may have to leave on short notice, and I'll be gone for several days, at least."

"We'll be good, mom."

* * *

She left the next morning, after her brother-in-law woke her up at midnight to tell her that his wife was in labor. Carrie and I drove her to the airport, and we stopped for breakfast on the way home.

"So how was the mall yesterday?" I asked her.

"Fun. Amy asked about you."

Amy! The girl I had a hopeless crush on! "Really?"

"Yep. She thinks you're cute."

"So is she seeing anyone?" I asked, trying not to seem too interested.

"She was, but I think that's over. You oughta ask her out. Now that you have a driver's license, you're a very eligible bachelor," she smiled.

The waitress came to take our orders. "Ready for the big match tomorrow?" I asked after she left.

"Yep. I'm gonna go for a three mile run today, then rest up."

"Are you sure you want to run that far?"

"Relax, bro. I've done it before each of my matches, and won 'em all. You, meanwhile, got skunked on the first day, by a guy even I could have beaten."

"That's easy for you to say. All you have to play against are girls."

"That's true, but I'll still be club champion come tomorrow. Which I really need if I'm gonna get into a decent college. The coach at State is supposed to be there, you know."

"Wow, that's pretty cool. Hope you can handle the pressure."

She stuck out her tongue at me, like she always did when I teased her. Our breakfast came, and after we finished I drove us home. Carrie changed into a sports bra, tank top and running skirt, and after she laced up her sneakers she was out the door.

I was upstairs in my room, working on an SAC practice test on my computer, when I heard something strange downstairs. Was that Carrie sobbing? I raced downstairs to find her curled up in a ball by the front door, crying her eyes out. Then I saw her left ankle, which was twisted and swollen to twice its normal size. I knelt down beside her. "What happened?"

"I tripped over the Shawnessy's stupid dog and fell! I think I broke my foot! God, it hurts so bad!" she cried.

"How did you get home?"

"I walked, stupid. On one leg!" I reached out and touched her ankle carefully. "Ouch! Please stop!"

"We have to get that sneaker off to see how bad it is," I said. She grimaced in pain as I loosened the laces, and cried out in agony when I slipped the sneaker off her swollen foot. Another shriek of agony when I pulled off her sock. She was whimpering in despair as I gently examined her foot and ankle. They were puffy and red, but there were no obvious broken bones, and I was pretty sure that it was just a bad sprain. "Cheer up, sis. I don't think you broke anything. We need to get some ice on this, and wrap it with an ace bandage once the swelling goes down. You'll be back on your feet in no time."

Somehow I got her upstairs to her bedroom, and I'd found a bag of frozen peas which I pressed against her swollen ankle as she lay prostrate on her bed. I also got her to swallow a handful of Tylenol PM, and I was just about to leave her when she grabbed my arm. "The tournament!" she gasped.

"Sis, there's no way you can play tennis tomorrow. You'll have to forfeit the match."

"No!" she cried. "I can't do that!"

"Carrie, you'll never be able to play on that foot, and even if you tried, you'd get killed."

"I have to try! The coach from State will be there! This is my big chance," she whimpered.

"Sorry, sis. There's no way."

I was getting up to leave when she called me back. She'd stopped crying, and her voice was deadly serious. "Do you want to help me?"

"Of course, you know that. But there's nothing I can do."

"Yes there is."

"How?"

"You can take my place."

"What?"

"You can put on one of my tennis dresses, let me do something with your hair, and play my match for me."

I actually laughed at her. "You must have hit your head when you fell down, sis."

"I didn't hit my head! Please, you gotta help me!" she started to sob again.

"No way."

"Please help me," she cried, as tears flowed down her face. "Please, please help me..."

I sat down on the side of her bed and hugged her. "Sis, you know I'd do anything for you, but this is just insane."

"What's insane about it?"

"For starters, I could never pass as a girl. Everyone will know it's really me. I'll be humiliated, you'll be banned from tennis, and our family will probably get kicked out of the club."

"Not if you let me help you."

"I thought I was helping you? You need to get some rest," I said, getting up from the bed.

She grabbed my arm again, with surprising strength, and pulled me back down. "You listen to me! We're almost identical twins. The only differences will be hidden by your dress. When I'm through with you, nobody will be able to tell us apart. Please," she started to cry again, "at least let me try..."

She looked so pathetic, laying there in obvious pain, but with grim determination on her face. How could I say no to her? "There's no chance that this is gonna work," I protested lamely.

"Then I won't ask you to do it," she sniffled. "But please, let's see if we can make it work, okay? Please?"

"I guess," I sighed.

"Thanks," she smiled, as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

I returned to my room and tried to concentrate on my SAT practice test, but my mind kept coming back to my crazy conversation with Carrie. She must have been delirious from the pain, and I was glad the Tylenol PM finally knocked her out. When she came to, surely she'd have forgotten all about her harebrained scheme to have me pinch hit for her in the club championships.

But I was wrong. When I heard the doorbell ring, she called out from her bedroom, "That'll be Amy. Please let her in."

Amy! Carrie must have called her. I dashed down the stairs and paused in front of the hall mirror to fuss with my hair before I opened the door. There she was, drop-dead gorgeous in a sexy little romper. "Hi Amy," I stammered.

"Hey you, how's the patient?" she asked.

"C'mon upstairs, you can take over."

"I just want to say how amazing you are," she said as we walked up the staircase. I was about to ask her what she meant when Carrie came hobbling out to meet us, only to nearly fall down the stairs. Amy and I caught her and dragged her back into her bedroom.

"Ow, ow, ow!" she said as we lifted her back into bed.

"Are you sure it's not broken?" Amy asked after she inspected Carrie's ankle, which if anything had swollen up some more, and was totally black and blue.

"I don't think so," I said. "Just a bad sprain. But we'll keep her off her feet, and if it gets any worse, we can drive her to the E.R."

"There's no time for that," Carrie said. "We have some serious work to do."

"You are such a prince to do this," Amy said. Then it dawned on me: Carrie must have called Amy to help her with her ridiculous plans to turn me into a girl. I tried to think of a way to back out before it was too late, but it was too late.

"I have the best brother ever," Carrie said.

"I'll say," Amy went on. "Most guys wouldn't have the balls." She looked at me like she meant it, and she was so hard to resist! Petite, with a great body, long blonde hair and the biggest blue eyes I've ever seen, I was hooked. It was mortifying to think that Carrie had let her in on her cockamamie scheme, but Amy didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with it, and my resistance began to crumble.

"You guys are really serious about this," I said with chagrin.

"One hundred percent," Carrie said. "First things first: please take off your clothes." Ordinarily this would have seemed like a shocking suggestion in front of Amy, but when I turned to face her, she nodded enthusiastically.

"I have brothers, you know," Amy said. "It won't be anything I haven't seen." Reluctantly, I pulled off my tee shirt and stepped out of my shorts, leaving my boxers on. "Nice," Amy said approvingly. "You have a nice body."

"Job one is to get rid of that peach fuzz," Carrie said. I didn't have much body hair, but I definitely had some on my chest, arms and legs, and after some prodding and pushing from Carrie and Amy, I found myself in the shower with a razor in my hand. What am I doing to myself? I asked as I smoothed on shaving cream and ran the razor over my body. It was true that a lot of guys in my high school shaved down, especially the athletes, and I rationalized that I was just catching up with the trend. When I was finished, I wrapped a towel around my waist and returned to Carrie's bedroom, where a pile of tennis outfits and underthings were spread all over her bed.

"Oh good, you didn't wash your hair," Carrie said. "It'll be easier to trim this way."

"Now hold on," I said, suddenly aware that this was getting way out of hand. "I agreed to put on one of your stupid tennis dresses to prove that you couldn't make me look like a girl. I never agreed to a...a makeover."

"Oh, don't be silly," Amy said. "We're not going to do anything drastic. Just a little trim to make it look more like Carrie's bob. As soon as the match is over, you can get a buzz cut as far as I'm concerned." With that, she pushed me into the chair in front of Carrie's vanity, put a towel over my shoulders, and went to work with a comb and scissors. I cringed as she clipped away, watching my reflection in the mirror with alarm as my hair began to look more and more feminine. When she was finished, I had to admit that the old me was gone. Looking back at me in the mirror was a girl with a stupefied expression on her face.

"Let's try some makeup next," Amy said. Before I could escape, she started in with some moisturizer, followed by a very light coat of foundation, which she carefully smoothed in with a sponge from Carrie's cache. Then she went to work on my eyebrows. "Don't worry, I'm not doing much," she assured me as she nipped them with a tiny pair of scissors. Some eyebrow pencil was next, followed by eyeliner after I closed my eyes. A touch of mascara on my fluttering lashes, a smidge of soft pink gloss on my protesting lips, and she pronounced her work complete. "He's a girl now," she said proudly. Staring at my face in the mirror, I had to agree. Carrie and I were identical twins before, but now we were one and the same person.

"From the neck up, you mean," said Carrie. "Let's get her dressed." She tossed what looked like a beige teddy of some kind to Amy, who instructed me to stand up. She helped me get my arms under the straps after I pulled it over my head, and she tugged it down towards my waist as the towel dropped to the floor. I was blushing furiously, but if Amy was embarrassed she didn't show it.

"Panties, please," she said to Carrie.

"Let's try these boy shorts," Carrie said. They were girl's underwear whatever she called them, and I hurriedly pulled them up my legs to cover myself. As I did, I noticed with alarm that my penis was starting to grow, and a strange sensation came over me. I tried not to admit it, but I was getting turned on.

If Carrie and Amy noticed anything, they kept it to themselves. "Okay, try these in the cups," Carrie said. "I used to cheat with them before my boobs arrived," she confided, as if Amy and I were two girls at a slumber party. They were breast forms, not overly huge, but once Carrie slipped them into the top of my teddy, I had a definite female figure. "Now, decision time: a dress or a skirt?"

"That blue and white skirt might help to hide her little secret," Amy observed. I was mortified as she held it up against me.

"Good thought. Try it with this blue top," Carrie said, and I surrendered helplessly as Amy tugged it over my head. Then she handed me the skirt, and all resistance was gone as I pulled it up my legs and felt Amy snug it into place. "She doesn't have much in the way of hips," Amy observed, "but then neither do you."

"I think she's perfect!" Carrie exclaimed. "Here, try these on," she said, handing me an old pair of tennis shoes. "Oh, these sox first," she added. They were tiny little socklets, but after everything else that had been done to me, it seemed almost natural to slip them on and lace up her sneakers.

"They're a little tight," I said as I took my first tentative steps as a girl.

"That's okay, it'll make you walk a little less like a guy," Carrie observed. I walked with halting steps over to the full length mirror on her closet door, and stopped dead in my tracks. Standing before me, in a short white skirt with little blue flowers, was my sister.

I stared at my reflection in a trance, scarcely noticing when Amy reached up to fasten a silver necklace around my neck, and only coming down to earth when Amy said, "Oh oh, we have a problem. Do you think she'll let me pierce her ears?"

Before I could freak out, Carrie said, "That won't be necessary. I have some magnetic fake diamond studs that look pretty realistic, and they'll match her tennis bracelet." It occurred to me that Carrie and Amy had started to refer to me as "she" and "her." And how could I blame them? Standing there in my sister's clothes, it was hard not to think of myself as a female.

The spell was broken when I noticed the tent in front of my skirt. The girls noticed it too, and Amy started to giggle. "Now this is a problem," she teased me. Then she grabbed me through my skirt and started to pull on me, as if my penis were a leash. I gasped and followed her as she backed out of the room, down the hall towards the bathroom. "Such a turn-on," she whispered. "If I knew you a little better, I'd take care of this myself." With that, she pushed me into the bathroom and closed the door. I was scarcely able to get my skirt up and my panties down before I erupted, jetting ropes of hot jism all over the toilet. My knees buckled as the sweet waves of ecstasy went on and on and on...

Finally I stopped throbbing, and my penis began to shrink. I felt a little creepy as I pulled my panties back on and adjusted my skirt. Amy was waiting for me when I opened the bathroom door. "Mission accomplished," she observed, taking my hand and leading me back into Carrie's bedroom.

I'm sure I was blushing crimson when Carrie looked us over. "I've been thinking. She needs to get a little tan on those legs before tomorrow, so let's lay out by the pool for a while. Maybe the Jacuzzi will be good for my ankle?"

"Uh, I think it's a little too early for heat on that," I said. "But I'll be glad to put on some trunks and hit the pool."

"No trunks, Missy," Carrie scolded me. "Between now and tomorrow, you're not gonna switch back into a guy. As soon as you win the tournament for me, you can be a boy again. Till then, you've gotta be all girl."

"I never agreed to that! All you got me to agree to do is play one tennis match, and that's all."