Title: MIRROR (A "Sorority Boys" story)
Author: Janet F. Caires-Lesgold
Feedback to: jfc@freeshell.org
Archive: Mailing list archives only--others please ask permission!
Category: Vignette, Adam's POV
Timeframe: After the movie
Rating: NC-17 for language and sexual imagery
Pairing: D/A (there's a reason I'm not spelling those out)
Summary: Genderfuck

DISCLAIMER: These characters do not belong to me, but exist in the Touchstone Pictures film "Sorority Boys" (2002), written by Joe Jarvis & Greg Coolidge, and directed by Wallace Woldarsky. This story is just for the entertainment of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.

COPYRIGHT: (C) June 28, 2002, Janet F. Caires-Lesgold, jfc@freeshell.org

Please don't redistribute or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the author. Thank you very much.

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*You're pretty.*

Dammit, Dave. You knew I meant that when I said it, didn't you? You had to.

I mean, you made the best girl out of the three of us. In dim lighting, I might pass for a homely woman, and, try as he might, God bless him, Doofer could manage nothing more than "guy in girl clothes" even to a blind-drunk imbecile. Okay, so maybe the girls in the house were impressionable, or desperate. I don't really wanna think about that.

But then there you were... You with those eyes that said you knew exactly where to touch a man to make his ears smoke. Legs that promised to wrap around a man's hips just *so*. Mouth that would fit so perfectly around it when you swallowed a man's cock.

Is it any wonder I sometimes dream about you at night, and sometimes during the day?

Okay, not *you*. Daisy.

I think.

Looking in the mirror, I don't see myself anymore. Oh, sure--there are the same cheeks I've shaved every morning since I was fifteen (okay--maybe it was mostly just wishful thinking the first year or two). But I don't know who that is anymore. Am I still Adam? Is that who I *want* to be?

Yeah, I know. Adina wasn't real, or she was just me, or something. She doesn't exist anymore. Nope. Those little red panties that I couldn't bear to throw out aren't her. She's not the person who puts them on when nobody's around just so I feel like myself again... Is this what mourning feels like? She's still a part of me, but she's gone now. My main regret? That I never made her come. Not for lack of wanting to. I didn't know *how*...

Jesus Christ, Dave. I am so fucked.

God, I wish I could blame this on being seriously wasted, or just drunk on my ass. (You were always nice about my ass, didn't make fun of how fat I was.) But here I am, completely sober, and I can't see myself in the fucking mirror. Where did I go?

When I used to be Adam, I knew who I was. I was the king, the hotshot, the stud. I had a place, people--a future. If I got all those things back today, would I want them? Would they make me back into Adam, the king?

It was never easy to be Adina. That's what made me envy you--it was easy for you. You just reached in there somewhere, inside your own hotshot heart, and pulled Daisy out. All done now? Great--now put her back wherever she came from, and you're done. You're Dave again.

Maybe Adina was too *much* Adam. I can't have wanted this. I can't have hoped to feel more complete in a red wig and makeup and nylons and heels. Never did I wonder why I had a penis instead of a clit. Not until I met her--became her.

I guess I keep looking for myself in you, Dave. Just the same way I looked to see what kind of man I should be as a KOK before, I looked to you to find out what kind of woman I should be as a DOG. Wake up, Dave. Please. I need to see your eyes, to see you see me as your old bastard buddy Adam again, if that's who I really am.

Shhh... Don't really wanna wake you up yet. It's still dark outside. You'd be mad. Besides, what could you do for me? If I were Adam, and you were Daisy, we could fuck. Maybe I'd understand then--maybe I'd be okay again. But what if I were Adina, and you were Dave? Would you make love to me then? Would you eat out my little pussy and make me come like you used to do to Leah? Or are you really a lesbian? Did Daisy want Adina? I'm not gay, Dave, but I want you...

Look at me, Dave. I'm not a man. I'm a fucking freak. Men don't cry because they've got a hard-on for their best friend, do they? And the really freaky part is that I don't want to be hard. I want to be wet. Help me, Dave... Daisy... I don't really care who...

"Adam?"

Fuck! "Man, I'm sorry. I'll go back to bed."

"No, don't. Come here. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Couldn't sleep. Been thinking..."

"You've been crying."

"No, I haven't."

"Your face is all wet."

"It's really hot in here."

"Your hand is freezing. You're cold. Get into bed with me."

SHIT! "No, I can't. I don't feel well... I'm going back to my bed."

"Adam, you're shaking. Come sit here and talk to me."

"On your bed?"

"Yeah, like when we were sisters, okay?"

"Sisters?"

"Yeah. It's okay. Doofer won't hear. Now tell me why you were sitting by my bed in the middle of the night and crying."

"You knew?"

"Man, I could *hear* you. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"Like when we were sisters?"

"We'll always be sisters. Now talk to me."

"Who the hell am I?"

"What do you mean?"

"Am I Adam, or am I Adina?"

"You're you. Isn't that enough?"

"I don't know, man... I couldn't see myself in the mirror anymore. I got so scared!"

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah--I've been there, too."

"You have?"

"Yeah. It gets better--trust me."

"But what do I do now?"

"Let me be your mirror."

"Why? Who do you see?"

"My sister."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Come here. That's it. Don't cry, okay, Adina?"

"Your arms feel nice. So warm... Can I..."

"Can you what?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Sure."

Mmmmm... That feels good.

"Is that better?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna be okay?"

"Daisy?"

"What?"

"I can't say it..."

"Go ahead, hon. What do you want?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Dave? Or Daisy?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not to me. Does it matter to you?"

"No."

"Good."

"Wait--do you want me, too?"

"Yeah. I have for awhile."

"Really? Wow... Sorry I woke you up now?"

"No. Not at all."

"I wanted to tell you: I *do* think you're pretty..."

"So are you."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Now knock it off and kiss me again..."

THE END