A Gender Volley

Sweat drips off my brow as I clench onto the volleyball. It’s all up to be now. If I knock my serve in, we’ll win. If I miss, we return to a draw, and considering that Hank Mays is next in line to serve on the other team, there’s no way we’d ever come back.
The ball spins in the air as I throw it up, ready for me to slam it down. “Max! Max! Max!” the crowd chants as I leap in the air.
The ball is a bullet of fire flying off my hands. The two guys in the front attempt to block in futility, and crash on the ground – the ball landing behind them. One guy tries desperately to bump the ball, but it’s useless. The ball slams into the ground, cementing our victory.
The crowd erupts, and people pour down into the gym. I can barely get a grin on my face before several girls lift me up and start chanting my name. We’ve completed our perfect season, and now only the playoffs remains before us.
They carry me to the after party, and the rest of the team sits around the table chatting it up. “Seriously Max, that was a great serve!”
I chuckle. “We’d never have been able to do it without your block in the third set. Hank Mays never would have stopped serving if not for that.”
We lounge back, happy with our victory. To think that we were originally projected to finish a game or two over .500, and now we’re headed to the playoffs for the first time.
Andrew flips on the television, and turns to the local news. “Demira wins again!” flashes across as the main headline.
“Who’re we up against next?” I ask.
“Shh,” says Andrew. “They’re announcing it now.”
The screen flashes a playoff bracket as the amateur announcers try to make the event bigger than it is. But, I suppose for high school volleyball, you’re not going to get the top notch announcers.
“And Demira will face…” says the announcer as our number four seed flashes across the screen. Honestly, it’s a bit higher than I expected, since most of our wins came across pretty poor competition. But since we’ll be facing a thirteen, at least our first round should be pretty easy.
The roll finishes, showing out opponents. “Draziw high school! Best of luck to both teams!”
The scene flashes to Draziw students, jumping around in jubilation. They weren’t a lock to make the tournament in the first place, so I can imagine how happy they must be.
But as for my teammates, they were nothing but groans. “Draziw? Seriously?” demands James.
“They curse every opponent they play,” moans Andrew.
I stand up and fold my arms. “Seriously guys, curses? What world are you living in? Stop it with your stupid superstitions and take it one game at a time. Their game in seventy percent psychological with their black uniforms and incoherent babblings. They only want you to believe that they are cursing you, they aren’t doing any real cursing!”
“Listen, Demira,” says a guy on the screen. “We won’t pretend that we’re an even match for you. At least not yet. But we want a good game, and we don’t play fair.” The guy points his finger at the screen and starts to mumble something incoherent.
“See, intimidation,” I say. “That’s all it is. Come on, let’s do the same to them.”
I point my own finger at the screen in mock. And then the television flickers, and a bolt of lightning flies out to my finger.
I collapse to the ground, dazed by the strike. I stare around to see all my teammates lying on the ground in various states of consciousness. What the… did the television short out or something?
My fingers still tingles from the jolt it received. And in fact, that tingling feeling is expanding. It crawls up my hand and up my arm gradually.
“Is everyone all right?” I check around like any good captain to ensure that there’s no lasting injuries.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” says Andrew. “My leg’s a bit tingly though. Must’ve landed on it.”
“I told you to fix your television.” James sits up and rubs his head. “Seriously, that short could’ve killed us.”
I lie back. “Well, if there’s nothing more than a few tingles, let’s wait a bit for the sensation to pass. Lie down, and if anyone is having issues, we’ll call an ambulance.”
Truth be told, it is all I really can do. My body seems to have been sapped of all of its energy, save for the tingling sensations. The sensations are almost a burning sort of a feeling from the head down, now. Yet, somehow, I feel light. It’s as if I were to take a deep breath, I’d fly away.
I put my arms above my head and lie on my bulging biceps. Except… they don’t feel as hard as they usually do. In fact, they don’t even seem to be too big.
“Curious,” I say. I pull my arm in front of me, and sure enough, they’ve shrunk.
I rub my eyes, not sure if they’re playing tricks on me. But my fingers seem softer and longer, and my hand itself seems a bit longer.
And then I see what’s happening. All along my arm, my coarse black hair is pulling itself into my body. Strand by strand, it recedes and grows lighter, before finally disappearing for good. I want to yell to my teammates for help, but my voice won’t come out. Something is messing around in my throat, and I can hear it crunching.
When I stare over at my other teammates, they all have the same looks of horror across their faces. Each one of them has a different change, but indeed, they are changing. Some have smooth legs, and others have a softer face and longer hair.
I put my delicate hands up to my hair, and sure enough, it’s grown. It hasn’t grown much – maybe down to my shoulders, but it’s certainly not the crew cut I used to have.
My stomach is next and pushes itself inwards. I should be in a ton of pain experiencing something like that, but to my surprise it actually feels good. Like, the tingling around it is some sort of massage, and it’s shrinking in size in response. I pull up my shirt, and instead of my previous rock hard abs, I have a flat smooth stomach curving down to my hips, which seem to be growing wider.
But something is obstructing my vision. Two mounds grow out of my chest, pushing against my shirt. I grab them, trying to push them out of the way, and my hands brush past my nipples. That doesn’t feel right. In fact…
Mounds out of my chest? Wider hips? Hairless dainty arms? That can only mean…
I shriek in a voice much higher than I’m used to. As if my body recognizes that I’m aware of what’s happening, the changes accelerate. My thighs push against each other as they swell up, pushing my member back. I shove my hands in my shorts, thinking I can somehow pull it out, but it’s so small now that I can’t get a firm grip. It slips inside with a pleasurable pop.
I curl over from a cramp in my lower abdomen as various organs rearrange themselves inside me. Heat envelops my body, and sweat drips down my legs – carrying my hair with it. My chest continues to inflate, growing to a rather impressive size. At least, if it wasn’t mine, that’s what I’d be thinking.
The cramping fades, and with it, the tingling sensation. I don’t dare to move until I’m positive that the sensations are over. Behind me, I hear a soft sobbing.
I turn around to see the members of my team, currently in various states of distress. As I feared, there isn’t a single guy left in the room. Two girls are in each others arms, crying their hearts out, and another girl with a long black ponytail is already up and pacing around the room. Most of us, however, are simply staring into space trying to figure out what had just happened.
“What do we do?” asks a girl with blond hair, loosened up down to her shoulder blades.
I bow my head. “I don’t know,” I say. “I suppose we might as well identify ourselves. I’m Max. Or well, I was. Max isn’t exactly a girl’s name…”
“Sure it is. It’s short for Maxine,” says the girl with the long black ponytail. “That’s what we call my sister.”
I fold my hands. “Well, I don’t like it. I’ve never liked the name Max anyways, so I’ll choose something I like better. Who are you anyways?”
“Andrew,” the girl with the ponytail says. “I guess that would make me Andrea and… No. I can’t have that name. I’ve always hated it.”
“Nick,” says one of the crying girls.
“James,” says the other.
After taking a roll call, we all came up with the same conclusion. Not a single one of us likes our names.
I stand up and motion the pacing Andrew to sit down. “Then here’s what we’ll do,” I say. “I’m sure every one of you is probably thinking ‘he was so wrong about Draziw.’ I’ll be the first one to tell you that you’re right. There’s not a single doubt in my head that they’re the ones responsible for this.”
“We’re going to have to forfeit,” cries the girl who used to be James. “There’s no way a team of girls can beat a team of guys!”
I slam my fist in the palm of my hand. “That may be so. But, have we ever put it to the test?”
“Huh?” asks the girl who used to be Nick.
“I don’t know about you, but while my body feels different, it’s certainly not like I don’t remember to play. You used to be the best spiker on the team, Nick. Do you think you wouldn’t be able to give a good spike right now?”
“Well, my jump might not be…” she starts.
“If you jump high enough, do you remember how to spike?”
“Well, I don’t think I could ever forget how,” she says. “It’s sort of like ingrained in my muscle memory, even if these aren’t really my muscles anymore.”
I nod. “And it’s not like I forget how to serve. I know the timing, and that’s all that matters, really. Everything else is simply a matter of power and getting used to our bodies.”
“How the hell do you think I can get used to these?” asks the girl who used to be James, pushing up her chest. She really did get the short end of the stick. While most of us are maybe C-cups, she got stuck with a pair of E’s.
“The same way we always do. We practice. We’ll stay four hours after school every day instead of two, and we’ll support each other until the big match. Does anyone have a problem with that? If you do, raise your hand, and nobody will judge you for it.”
I stare around the room, looking for objectors. The girl who used to be Andrew raises her hand.
“Yes Andrew?” I ask.
“I mean, I’m fine with trying it. We’re stuck like this until we play the match in the first place. But, should we really be calling each other by our male names?”
I think for a moment. “What do you suggest?”
He stands up. “Listen. We’ve spent our entire lives as guys. This is a unique experience for all of us, and I don’t know about you, but I want to make the most of it. Don’t you want to experience what a skirt feels like? Don’t you want to discover what it’s like to wear pink, spend an hour on makeup, and tying your hair in a million hairstyles? I don’t know about you, but I want to. I want to live as a girl until the meet, and bond with each other as girls. Does anyone else?”
“Are you some sort of tranny?” scowls the girl who used to be Nick.
I glare at her. “I said no judging.”
“Sorry,” she says.
“Besides, doesn’t matter if you call him a tranny or not. You’re just like him. I’m with Andrew. As long as I don’t have to be called Max, that is.”
I put a candy bowl on the table and pour out the candy. I grab a piece of paper and scribble down a name on it. “We’ll decide our names here.” I throw the paper into the bowl. “Each of you write down a name and throw it into the bowl. If you throw in a name, you’ll pick one, and that’ll be the name you answer to. Nobody is obligated to do this, but I’d like it if everyone did.”
In the end, even Nick threw a name into the bowl. I pick first as captain, and read the name aloud.
“Lauren,” I read. Eh, I can live with that. I never really cared too much for the name, but it’s not a bad name.
Andrew goes next. “Yvonne,” he reads. Oh, that’s the one I threw in.
Nick gets the next pick of Grace, and James gets Kelly. The other members draw in turns, until we all have our female names written down. “Remember, we’re calling each other by these names tomorrow,” I say. “And you’re expected to dress the part and act the part. We’re going to have Draziw beaten by a bunch of girls, not a bunch of men in girls’ bodies. Understood?”
We all cheer. It seems weird to hear such a high pitch cheer, but I have to smile. This is going to be fun.
What isn’t going to be fun is my next task: Telling my family about all of this.