Part 5 (cont.)

After lunch, it still seemed rather early to head over to Lissa’s house for promised photos and far too early for Lissa to go pick up Quilla from school and surprise her. It was then that Lissa offered Allison, “You can borrow my device for a while.”

Allison was tidying up some grocery coupons when Lissa said that. I watched him. He paused and smiled with a slight turn of his head, casually replying, “Later. When I can really have some fun with it.”

Meanwhile, I got to have a little fun with him. Since human makeup would look bizarre on anime anatomy, he let himself be used by Lissa as a teaching prop. Lissa cautioned she was not an expert and it didn’t even matter unless I managed to get my hands on some anime-specific makeup (which was unlikely). Whereas Allison was precise with my braids, I just fumbled my best.

When I was done, Lissa touched it up for me. I was getting used to holding things which didn’t look anything like the hands I held them with but it was still disconcerting.

The result was good enough and served to make Allison look more feminine than I’d ever seen him. After that, we booted up one of Malcolm’s fighting games which allowed more than two players. Lissa was expectedly good. I found that I couldn’t use “new hands” as an excuse for my continued poor play because I didn’t feel weird with their altered size and the speed of play took my mind off the color clash. I just still sucked at this one. Even with Lissa teaming up with me against Allison, I was still the first one gone.

Before long, I realized it would soon be time for my later class. I’d resolved to myself that I would skip it, but I didn’t really have a good reason. Going out would give me some time to think on all which had been said and what I felt. But that was Sean-thinking. I also knew if I went then I wouldn’t be back till suppertime and I would miss Quilla seeing Lissa as she was for the first time. I wanted to be there.

The only arguments against skipping the class were the loss of a few participation points and I would miss how people on campus saw me now. It was really no contest. People would see me no matter where I went and I’d have to go to class eventually. But I really wanted to see Quilla, and so did Allison.

He’d seen her more than once before and they’d had fun, although Quilla found him “really girly” when I asked her later.

After Allison made sure Clayton wouldn't miss the food we'd prepared, we left the house. Because Lissa was parked back on campus, we would have to be seen by a few people. However, with our class, there were sure to be at least a few others wandering about in anime form before us.

Our cul-de-sac was quiet. No neighbors (mostly other students and a few professors) about and no cars roaming either. That changed when we got closer to campus. A car drove past us and slowed at its closest approach. The windows were hard to see through but I could feel them staring. A few more encounters happened like this. Allison quipped, with a wink, “I didn’t realize I could stop traffic.”

At the edge of campus was the area of greatest excitement. Smartphones started coming out from people along the street. It was a residential area but bikers and joggers stopped to take their pictures. I might’ve found it rude but I’d secretly gawked at that genuine Kinrae.

Once on campus, the activity quieted down. If I had to guess, the other students had already figured it out. They seemed to be looking towards our hands and were whispering to one another. There were occasional phones but not as much excitement as the corner before.

Making our way across the parking lot, Allison skipped with ease until we came to one of the side buildings. A professor, one I’d seen before (though I didn’t know what subject he taught), passed by and stopped to chat. He had a faint, gray beard lighter in tone than my uncle’s when he tried to grow it out and a slight hunch to his shoulders.

He immediately asked if we were students of Professor Brandt. Lissa answered first, explaining the class. He understood and marveled at us a bit before saying, “Well, you ladies look lovely and…” His eyes caught Allison rocking back and forth on his heels. He raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and finished, “I hope you all have a nice day.”

I didn’t try to correct him but then he wasn’t actually wrong. I offered him a wave as we continued to Lissa’s car. Allison gave me the front so he could sprawl out in the back seat.

We probably should’ve turned off the devices as Lissa was driving. I noted this to her as she made her way out of the parking lot. She waved a hand and said, “Actually, I’m hoping to get a few double-takes through windows. Besides, people should have their eyes on the road, as I keep telling Quilla.” She mentioned how Quilla drew pictures of people glued to the pavement. Allison giggled.

Lissa drove sedately. We definitely attracted a crowd around our car. Allison made sure to wave when he could.

My main concern was that we might get pulled over by the overzealous local police. There’d been some ACLK protests over the treatment of Kinrae by officers with ID checks and detaining without cause for several hours.

At that point, we would definitely need to turn off our devices and explain the situation. But the only police car we ran across was one which already had its lights and sirens going after a different target. The sudden blast of sound and light momentarily made me jerk.

Inside Lissa’s house, Allison soon went roaming. I knew he’d visited during the one particular BBQ where Lissa invited all my roommates and Michael spent most of the evening without saying a word as he grilled.

Lissa off-loaded the pictures we had already so the memory stick would be fresh for the next round. And I got a good look at myself on her laptop screen. It was hard to connect with the image. I’d neglected a lot of the sensations from this body. Or my brain had adapted. My body didn’t feel so strange that it felt like an irritation. I had a good sense of how big my hands were and how to manipulate them. My body mass moved in a way which didn’t throw off my balance. The weight on my chest felt calmly ever-present instead of jarring. I didn’t even mind all that hair, especially with how Allison had woven it into a manageable shape.

But then we got to clothes and I had to stare at the clothing she was loaning me. Clothing Lissa had worn before which she was now giving to me to use. Myself. Something about that struck me sharper than the fact I was wearing cel-toned garments like them already.

Lissa seemed to notice, like a shark smelling the presence of blood, and lunged at me with all sorts of things I could try on. Allison was judge and cheerleader as Lissa presented each combination. I fussed with each cut-out oddity of anime limbs and head, like a mixed up papercraft. I posed a bit, hesitantly at first. Then I got into it, focusing on my self-reminder to be truer to how I looked.

When I was done, I had a bag of clothing that Lissa was willing to part with. A lull came when Lissa went to arrange her closet and track down stuff which might “flatter” the body she was wearing.

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In a quiet moment, I asked Allison, as he poked through the clothes, “How do you do it?”

Immediately, Allison’s eyes widened and he blinked at me with the right amount of confusion my question deserved. I rephrased, “You seem to always have so much energy and enthusiasm and joy and cleverness. And you make food for all of us too. How do you do it?” I left the next words I was thinking unsaid. Allison seemed more like a Kinrae as a boy than I was managing as an imitation of one.

Allison’s first reaction was a smirk but then he seemed to notice my expression and let the smirk go. He leaned back a bit and offered, “I blame all my brothers.”

I knew in passing that Allison had a few brothers. What I didn’t know, but which he soon revealed to me, was that he only had brothers, all of them older. He explained, “Dad raised us all. Not much to say about mom.” I cringed. He waved a hand and assured me, “I still talk to her. It’s just not ideal. She’s responsible for my name but that’s a really long story. But my brothers…”

He gave a chuckle and his eyes narrowed with calm. “Dad can do anything and he really inspired me to be the kind of man I wanted to be. Especially the kind of man other men weren’t.” It was so challenging to see Allison as a man. The word just felt so off. But his words were strong and felt sincere. He amended, and accented with a wink, “Of course, I’ve already told you I wouldn’t mind a little fun trying new things.”

I smiled and listened as he counted off all the things his older brothers did. His oldest brother was a fitness trainer. He had another brother who was an eye doctor. There was the construction worker brother who did roofing and who’d actually met Clayton once (I’d met him too, he was a big guy compared to Allison). I hadn’t met his brother who was an emergency technician. Nor had I met his brother who was a producer for a TV station up north (turned out this brother first got Allison interested in drama when he was producing plays in high school). The one closest in age to him was a supply clerk who already had several children. About half of them were married. Allison as an uncle was another new notion that I had trouble wrapping my head around.

Before I could delve further, Lissa emerged for the next segment of the fashion show. Some of the combinations were bright enough in tone to not look weird beside Allison’s painterly flesh. We applauded and plenty of pictures were taken. Lissa even had me climb on the platform in Quilla’s tree with a pirate patch for a photo. By the time we were done, Quilla was about to get out of school.

However, I’d been…holding it…for the entire time but my muscles couldn’t take it anymore. I thought I heard a comment from Lissa as I rushed to pee but I was too distracted to take note of it. Once inside, I searched my control device for the deactivation command. It wasn’t showing up but that was just because I was rushing. Fidgeting on my legs, I grit my teeth, set the device down, and looked at the toilet.

I had to work and think fast. Stockings. Low enough not to get in the way. Skirt. Two layers but I could bunch them up so they were out of the way. Underwear. It was there. It would have to come down. I had to do it.

Up. Down. Sit. I was nervously terrified about how I was sitting. I had everything out of the way. The same muscles were tense but focused in different places. I just relaxed them for release and relief. I kept fussing with the skirt. There was so much of it.

It was different but all by small degrees. Oddly enough, my uncle taught me more than anyone would expect an uncle to teach his nephew about feminine hygiene. Perhaps he knew all along? Either way, I was grateful.

I found myself paranoid about my appearance to the point I almost considered loading up the saved form. I washed my hands, letting the water sparkle over the pale pastel of my hands. I looked up in the mirror. Hair still as Allison had left it. I tried a little smile.

Straightening, I showed my profile, which shifted my appearance slightly. There was so much I could do behind a locked bathroom door… But not in Lissa’s bathroom and not right at that moment. I dried my hands and headed out.

Allison accompanied us. I’d almost forgotten how crazy busy it was around the area's public schools. High school was worse, but not by much. Lissa crept and nearly turned off her device when she had people pointing and stopping like at a car accident, making the traffic situation even worse.

Eventually, she tracked down a bare patch of curb to park with a clear view of the front of the school. A raucous troop of young girls squealed their way past us, bolting all together. Lissa groaned and said, with bitter annoyance, “If there is a Hell, then one of its circles must be full of little girls…”

I raised an eyebrow. The cries were wild and giddy but didn’t seem that bad. Lissa glanced at me with wary eyes as she asked, “Have you ever been responsible for a feral batch of five-year-old girls on a field trip?” I couldn’t say that I ever had.

Out spilled Lissa’s tale of woe when she happened to volunteer to help with a trip to the small, nearby science museum, which Quilla had already been to several times. Lissa wasn’t placed with Quilla’s group. She was placed with, as she called it, “the insane group”.

“I’d rather take managing a mass of boys any day. They may screw around but they rarely work together like an unstoppable collective against you.” She shuddered. I couldn’t offer much more than nods as Allison giggled.

Lissa swiftly amended that, while a random group of little girls were unholy terrors, there was one in particular whom she loved without reservation or question and who was walking briskly over to the car. Quilla paused halfway to us, peering right at me and Lissa, who leaned forward to wave. She cocked her head, widened her eyes, and then bolted for the car.

She pulled open the door and looked in. I looked back and just caught the edge of a stern expression which Quilla gave Allison. In return, Allison gave a happy little wave. Calmly, Quilla set her bag down in the back and buckled herself in a comfortable distance from Allison, who immediately scooted closer. Quilla groaned and asked, “Mom…?”

The question seemed clear enough to Lissa, who answered, “Be nice to our guest. And don’t fight.” Quilla set her feet, folded her arms, and sighed. Then she took on a meditative expression like she was trying to block out Allison or place some sort of ninja thing on her.

Allison played nice but still made a couple of silly faces. Quilla calmly told Lissa, “You look cool, mom, and is that Sean?”

I looked back at Quilla, her bright eyes peering at me. I gave her a smile and nodded, showing her my voice as I said, “It’s me.”

I felt a little nervous about what she was going to say. Allison broke the tension by asking, “Did any nice boys do anything nice for you today, QC?” Lissa gave a random snicker.

Quilla turned her head and raised a dumbstruck eyebrow at Allison, who leaned back with a relaxed expression. Quilla’s only reaction was, “Ew…the boys in my school are all dumb. And my name is Quilla Bronte Cohen, not Quecy.” I didn’t even know her middle name.

Allison widened his eyes. “I seeeee. Well, they can be…but all the boys? Really? Every single one?”

Quilla gave a severe nod of her head and reiterated just that.

So Allison asked, “And the girls are better?”

To which Quilla remarked, “No, they’re dumb too. Most. Some are okay. But they don’t care about pirates or ninjas or anything important.” Allison gave an emphatically sad nod.