WereWoman Read Online Free Page B

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.”
    â€œThere 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.”
    â€œShe’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?”
    â€œWeres 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.”
    â€œIt 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.”
    â€œIt’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.
    â€œPhil—” 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.”
    â€œI—” I said, in a swirl of confusion. A public event, as a girl?
    â€œWe 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