I gently leaned on a row of dresses. It occurred to me that I could tell my friends, but the prospect felt even more uncomfortable than mentioning it to my family had. I had no clue what would happen now. It was doubtful I'd become the excitable, colored blur my sister was. I also couldn't quite imagine myself as Parker. She was nice though. Then there was Allison. I could be like her. The thought put a shiver down my back, especially when I realized my hands were actually smaller than hers (since she'd also tried the extra-small and it was too snug).

I'd be the little sister. I paused on that thought: Me like Candace's little sister with mom and me seeing eye to eye.

I'd still huddle under a mound of covers, trying to beat back the press of morning rays through the side window of my room. My feet would be buried in my bed like the deep end of the pool. I'd have to cling tightly. Candace would have no regard for my sleep, as usual. Just tear them off and stare down at me.

My automatic thought was me in a peach nightgown. I had no idea where that thought came from but it was my first. I tried to amend them into fuzzy blue PJs but the image kept returning to the nightgown.

I'd struggle to recover my covers but Candace would kick them far away, so far that my half-dreamy state would be broken. Then, she'd tug me by both shoulders and drag me over to the bathroom.

What came next, I could easily predict. It wasn't just the offhand comment about me as a girl. I knew. She had a plan for this possibility. I remembered the year she wanted me to participate in the cross-dressing football game, despite the fact I'd never even approached touch football or cheerleading by accident. Halloween made for a sly set of proposals. Dressing up in "purely gender-neutral ways" as female characters from things I liked. A gradual slope.

So, I knew that Candace would begin throwing every girly thing in her arsenal at me while trying to educate me in her strange ways. I can only imagine my animated self slowly dragging her body out of the bathroom while the vines of Candace's arms enveloped her and hurtled her back into the abyss like some horror movie monster. Eventually, I'd escape. Hopefully.

A return trip to this mall when I was "done" would probably be inevitable. A further, unrelenting onslaught.

At that moment, something soft bounced off my head. I looked beside my feet. Black velvet gloves. Candace flashed an intimidating point of her finger and commanded, "Try them on." Both fit perfectly. Slipping them off, I soon realized why. Both of my arms matched. That was faster than I anticipated. I looked all over the newly-changed arm. With the other, they appeared strange connected to my torso. Like a human, melting ice-sculpture.

Conceding this change, I immediately felt around and wondered what was next. Chest touch. Nothing new. Hip check. No wider. Adjusting my underwear. Nothing missing. It took a moment of standing to realize what was happening. My pants were loose. Nothing serious but they didn't fall across my waist in quite the same way. Also, the bottom hem was closer to my shoes. Nothing to worry about. Not yet, at least. My shirt also felt loose but it was easy to tuck in. Standing, I also wondered if my height had shifted.

I tried to find a point of comparison but Candace found me first and asked, "Well? How are they?" I held the gloves out for her without a word and she rolled her eyes before accepting them. Then, she paused. She'd seen my hands. No way to hide them.

She held them together and beamed as she compared them. Allison joined her and gawked too. Then, came the inevitable question, "So, what's changing now?"

It didn't take long for her to figure it out. She held her hand out to the top of my head and then to the top of hers. Allison looked between Candace and me for illumination. I guess I wasn't short enough yet for it to be obvious. I admitted, "I think I'm getting shorter."

Candace's next words were, "I wonder if you'll take after mom." She'd actually said that before, in teasing. I usually just ribbed her and glared. But now it stood before me as a literal possibility. I could end up the day looking like mom. Maybe including dark blue hair. It concerned me as much as taking after someone like Parker, despite her self-acceptance.

I never really minded growing up if I was…growing up…as much as anyone else. I tended towards the average and Candace even passed me in height for one brief summer, which she delighted in. My practical side told me it meant I could stay in my clothes longer before mom had to find new sizes and, at that time, dad's jobs were sparse and mom hadn't yet managed to recover from a long creative slump after I was born (although she was always swift to reiterate I wasn't the cause). Candace had plenty of cousins just above her age, so she often wound up with tons of lovely, hand-me-down clothes that filled her closet to bursting. As for me, I always kept a small but reliable rotation of what I liked.

Candace dashed over to find Parker and dragged her back. She wanted new info on my size, despite the fact it might soon be changing further. Allison stepped closer and looked me over before noting, "You seem a little tired." She gave a kind smile.

I wasn't that tired but I appreciated her sympathy. Before I could answer, Candace was dragging Parker and a length of measuring tape with her. I could merely hold on as Candace deployed the tape as a whip around me. She knew just which areas to take in first. My torso. Now around the thirties. Parker relayed that would probably be a men's medium to small. My shirt was definitely feeling baggier than a few minutes ago. Then several numbers which didn't mean much to me till we came to my waist. Just a few inches less but enough to make the men's small possible for me to wear. Candace delighted that I'd fit into a large for women. All I was concerned about was whether the clothes I was wearing would sustain me.

Buying clothes after Candace's conversion was just a matter of what flattered her new colors. For dad, it was a slight adjustment and a different cut (and a few donations to the Goodwill). For mom, it was starting from scratch. She was at least able to use some of Candace's old clothes for a while until she could find things to wear. The prospect of getting loaners from my sister didn't thrill me.

Candace zoomed over to the sizes quoted but Parker gave me a sympathetic smile and proposed something else, something small but clingy in case I changed further. They included a lot of elastic and drawstring options to keep my clothes on.

Dragging her feet, Candace glared at them. I expected her plan was to keep trying new and ever more fashionable clothes as I got further along. I found an olive drab (Candace emphasized the "drab") pair of pants which felt blisteringly snug at that moment but that would change depending on how far things went. I knew, at the very least, mom would be able to wear them. They were high waters, so I had room to shrink. I also picked a snug, deep blue top in a futile proclamation I was still male (despite the fact I'd read enough to know that blue had an indefinite history with sex identification). The sleeves were long enough I could just about hide my arms. The best news was that the combo was cheap.

Scuffing my shoes, I wasn't sure what I would do about them. I'd always had feet on the smaller side and mom's feet weren't that small. I bought a pair of socks I might be able to double up or stuff inside for a temporary fix. All this ignored the possibility of other clothes I might need. But I was well willing to ignore them for as long as possible.

Candace and Allison also brought up their purchases. Allison only made a few selections. Lengthy skirts and turtlenecks. Candace had clothes that seemed more like the first round of stuff she wanted to try on me, a scattershot of all types. She dumped a few when the subtotal came. Dad had given her the card but that always came with a limit. She gave a sad look at each thing she had to give up, like she was abandoning a wide-eyed puppy.

Once everything was bagged, Allison positioned herself between us and said, "We really should get a snack and maybe sit down a bit. For the sake of rest."

Candace looked ready to pout and declare it was still early, but she was here (at least by declaration) for Allison's sake. So, Candace nodded and then started rattling off places nearby. The "health smoothies" place towards the food court was decided quickly by Candace and we followed.

Along the way, I tried to sense any other shifts. I noticed that the pants were nowhere near as snug as before. In fact, they were a good fit now. Ominous.

During the walk, Candace recounted her plans for the summer. I'd heard them before. There was an "anime" convention in the bottom part of the state. The old sort more than the new sort. "Anime" in the East declined for a time, despite the fact it was where conversion was first seen. In fact, a teen girl living in a ward of Tokyo was the very first, noted case of conversion. Numerous marriage proposals and proposals of other types followed soon after before more cases emerged and she was considered old news.

As for "anime", it rose again when the "live-acted" shows began to appear on TV. However, there were still plenty of purists who didn't consider it "real" anime unless it was actually drawn. Such were the kind of debates that coiled around the fandom. I'd only ever been to one convention and it was early-conversion-era with a friend much more into it than I was. But I could tell that Candace would be a hit. All converted visitors (especially the female ones) were. They didn't even need to cosplay (although many often did, with far more accuracy than could be imagined at any time before).

Candace went on about all the characters she'd considered. I knew most of them she'd just seen in passing and liked because they had red hair like hers. Aunt Karen was willing to make an outfit for free so long as it didn't involve anything too complicated. Of course, Aunt Karen made her own costumes for conventions of all sorts. She's what some call "converted-at-heart", "dream-to-be-two-dee", or by slang "2B2D" in that she pines for the day her hand may start to change style.

She asked for every new photo of mom she could get, like she's collecting screencaps. She begged Candace to send photos and especially pleaded with dad if he could send a capture of a stoic pose or two (he usually only sent them for the holidays). Some consider it strange. I reflected on that, as I noticed there was a non-human awkwardly trying to sit at one of the food court benches. Specifically, a small, lavender unicorn.

I'd seen one before. But it'd been a while since I'd seen one in 'person'. They had a simplified artistic style with sharp lines like my mother's, only these lines were tinted deep lavender. It had huge, light green eyes with massive pupils which rivaled the kind most normal converted received aside from the "Chibis".

It always surprised me that, despite their eyes, most converted see about the same as they did before. Some have said they can see more sharply or like a cat at night but the science is inconclusive. I noticed the unicorn shielded her eyes from a passing ray of light with a lavender hoof. Her mane and tail were a honeybee-like combination of light and dark yellow. The mane looked like a blond, curled hairstyle I'd seen somewhere before and her tail matched with a two-tone, half-arch dangling out the back of the chair. She noticed I was watching and gave a thick-lined smile and black arch of her eyes. I honestly couldn't imagine anything darn cuter.

Candace had to stop and say hi. She quickly learned the unicorn's name was Rachel but she was thinking of changing it. She'd converted a couple months ago. The normal girl sitting across from her was a helper the state provided, since having horse hooves makes many tasks much harder and her horn was just aesthetic. I noticed that most people did stop to take a look at her. I asked her about it, "Do you mind that?"

Rachel gave a little shrug and remarked, "I don't mind. Someone did try to ride me once and that was so not cool. I actually get asked to take photos with people. It was kinda weird at first because I was not anyone famous before in the least. I miss the convenience of hands but nothing I can do about that."

I had a question in my head but Allison, her fingers clenching her bags, asked it first.

"Was this something you wanted?"

Rachel shifted her mouth line but her blush told enough. She explained, "Well, you see there used to be this show…You remember it?" She gave some details. To Candace's surprise, I nodded.

She continued, "Anyway, just….ugh…it's hard to explain. But it just seemed like a purer, better world. I've always felt that way about animation. It can be the best of what it means to be human. To recreate and change the world, you know?"

We bid her a good day after we got her permission to brush her mane and tail. The girls even got a few pictures on their phones. I insisted we sit far enough away to give her some privacy.

As soon as we were away, I noticed someone else approaching Rachel. I couldn't even imagine a life like that. It occurred to me then that I should probably check how things might've changed since we left the store. I knew that the clothes I was wearing fit comfortably all over. I was almost down to Candace's height, a fact I made pains not to point out to her. I sat down quickly at the nearest seat. The smoothie place was just a few lots away.

Candace gave me a look. I stayed where I was and began sifting through my bags. She sighed and asked what I wanted.

"Just their regular juice blend."

She eyed me again. I tried to look really concerned about other things. She wasn't buying it. I guess my poker face was never all that good either and likely to get worse in the end. She took a step towards me, tapped me on the shoulder, and asked, "Could you stand up?"

Taking as much time as I could to set my bag back down, turn towards her, give a quick nod, and then slowly rise from my seat, I looked her in the eye. Candace smirked and held her hand between the top of my head and the top of hers. She didn't need to lift it that much. Allison gave a gasp.

One of the odder speculations for the conversion postulates that it accelerates when it isn't being witnessed, like an odd sort of big-scale quantum state. I tend to favor it's simply the idea of the watched pot. But it did seem to shift a lot while I was focused on far away conventions and imaginary, equine-filled lands.

Looking over at Allison, I wondered if soon I'd be looking up at her. I tried not to entertain the thought, despite the fact I rationally knew that it would have no connection with how I ended up. There were plenty of impromptu studies of people trying to focus on a particular color of hair or a shape to universally end up with something else. No, what waited for me was probably already decided and all that was left was to, metaphorically and literally, color it in.

I joined the girls over at the smoothie place and made my order. I sipped slowly and glanced around the food court. Aside from Rachel, there was only one other convert aside from Allison and Candace. He was standing at the back of the line at a Greek place. Everyone else in the line gave him a wide berth. I could understand why. His art style was intimidating.

It looked like something from a gothic or noir indie comic I'd seen once. His shading was deep, draped across his brow. Compared to the more wide-eyed styles you usually saw, he had narrow, slit-like eyes that looked almost blank until he turned in your direction. Oddly-enough the size of his eyes was practically "normal" by usual measure. His black hair was an unkempt, jagged shape atop the fault-like aspects of his face. Black shading traced his red shirt and liquid-black pants. He had the pen strikes of stubble.

I alternated between watching him and keeping watch over my pot as Candace and Allison made their orders. I felt sorry for him. That wasn't the most touchy-feely art style to wear for the rest of your life. But he didn't appear sad. The style lent itself to an inherent sense of brooding but he held his head high as he scanned the area.

Then, someone called out to him. I saw an unconverted woman, with hair almost as black as his and wearing a radiant, green dress, wave at him. They embraced and she held him close. The crowd gave them extra space, especially as his touch spread to her. Little dabs of his style brushed against her as they kissed. I looked away and returned my attention all to myself.

I'd probably have to roll the cuffs up soon. They were draped across my shoes and my shoes slipped more as I walked back to our table.