Folder with all parts of the story is here


Part 6

Part 8


If you like my art, sketches, stories, transformations you can find  more like this on my Patreon page or in DeviatArt Premium Early Access folder for subscribers here. Every bit of support is truly appreciated, but just having you here means the most to me - without you, none of this would have been possible. Thank you very much!


Check also my shop at DeviantArt for other works


A sharp voice cut through the tension:

— "Maddy, did it ever occur to you that you’ve already hit rock bottom?"

Maddy froze, her posture stiffening at the familiar raspy tone. Dan strolled over to them, the guy every teacher feared as much as the students. He looked as he always did — in a worn leather jacket, squinting, and twirling a cigarette between his fingers. His crooked smirk cast a shadow over the group, and suddenly the bus seemed to go quiet.

— "Buzz off!" — Maddy snapped, but her voice trembled.

— "No, I won’t," — Dan said, fixing her with a sharp gaze. Then, turning to Emma, he added: — "Tell me, Emma, is she just dumb as a rock and doesn’t understand words, or should I spell it out for her? You wouldn’t mind my help, would you?"

Mark hesitated. He wasn’t used to being defended, especially in such a bold way.

— "I don’t need your help," — he replied, his voice trembling slightly.

Dan gave Emma a faint smirk, then abruptly snatched the phone out of Maddy’s hands.

— "Hey! Give it back!" — she shrieked, lunging to grab the device, but Dan easily held it above his head.

— "Listen, princess, you know what happens to people who piss me off, right?" — he said calmly. — "Why tempt fate?"

Maddy froze, unsure how to respond.

— "Here’s the deal. I’m deleting this video. And if you record anything about Emma again, or even lay a finger on her, you’ll be the next internet star," — his voice was icy.

He deleted the video and handed the phone back while Mark watched the scene unfold in utter confusion. On one hand, Mark felt a strange sense of gratitude. But his male pride, still intact despite his current body, made it hard to accept this. Dan reminded him of all the bullies who had tormented him in the past.

Maddy shot to her feet, her face flushed with rage, but she said nothing. Throwing a searing glare at Dan, she turned on her heel and stormed back to her group of friends, her chin defiantly raised.

— "You know what, Emma?" — Dan said, sitting down so they were face-to-face, — " you might be small and a bit of a weirdo, but there’s something about you. Even Maddy’s pissed about it."

Mark let out a dry chuckle, fiddling with his skirt and turning toward the window, his cheeks heating up for no clear reason.

— "Sometimes I think your head’s older than half the folks hanging around here." The comment made Mark flinch, as if Dan knew the truth, but... no, that was impossible.

— "Do you always flinch like that when someone gives you a compliment?" — Dan asked lazily, tilting his head. His sharp, slightly amused gaze seemed to study Mark’s every movement, as though searching for weakness or... something else.

Mark shifted uncomfortably, instinctively adjusting his skirt, as though it could shield him from Dan’s scrutiny. Inside, he boiled with a mix of irritation, embarrassment, and faint anger.

— "I’m not flinching," — he said as calmly as he could, though his voice betrayed him with a slight tremor. His eyes, a little evasive, briefly landed on Dan, who sat there relaxed, like a king on his throne. The worn leather jacket, slightly tousled hair, and cocky squint made his confidence infuriatingly palpable. — "I’m always on edge around guys like you," — Mark retorted, crossing his arms to mask his unease.

Dan’s lips curled into a grin. He leaned forward slightly, just enough to get closer but not cross any boundaries.

— "That’s why you’re strange," — he said with a quiet chuckle. His voice was low, almost gravelly, but there was no malice in it.

Mark frowned, a strange chill running down his spine.

— "What?"

— "Look, I’m a year older, but even I don’t always have the courage to say what I’m thinking. But you? You say it, you fight, you push back. Whatever’s on your mind, you let it out. That’s awesome, and I like it."

Dan’s words struck an odd chord, so plain and unexpectedly sincere that Mark didn’t know how to respond.

"Like?" — The word echoed in his head. His throat went dry, and he struggled to find his voice.

— "Like?" — he repeated, feeling a tightness in his chest as if his heart had skipped a beat.

Dan nodded briefly, his gaze, usually brash, softening for a moment.

— "Not in love, don’t worry," — he said lazily, leaning back.

The words came out casually, but to Mark, they seemed to hang in the air, weighing him down. He looked away, unable to meet Dan’s eyes. "Not in love" — those words were supposed to reassure him, but instead, they made things worse. His cheeks burned with betrayal, and his whole body felt uncomfortably warm.

Mark quickly turned toward the window, but Dan’s reflection lingered in his peripheral vision. His palms grew sweaty, and his hands nervously clenched at his skirt.

"Shit. What the hell’s going on with me? It’s just this body reacting. Stupid teenage hormones kicking in. Makes sense... it’s just the body, that’s all..." — he tried to rationalize, biting his lip so hard he tasted blood. He quickly let go, licking the cut, and snuck another glance at Dan. The boy was casually looking down the bus aisle, but something about him suggested he was fully aware of the effect of his words.

"How dare he?!" — Mark fumed inwardly. — "It’s like he knows more about me than I do."

Jessica returned then, her presence a welcome distraction. Seeing her, Dan stood slowly, offering an unexpectedly gentlemanly gesture as he gave up his seat. Jessica smiled awkwardly, casting a quick glance at Mark, as if checking if he was okay.

— "She’s stronger than she looks," — Dan remarked, as though confirming his earlier statement, then moved off to another row.

— "Stronger than she looks," — Mark muttered under his breath, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment, and then scoffed, mocking himself.

"Stronger than she looks," — he mimicked internally, annoyance bubbling to the surface. — "What does he even know about me? I’m a man, dammit. Of course I’m strong!" he mentally berated himself. But something about Dan’s words clung to him, as if Dan hadn’t been speaking to "Emma" but to someone equal.

Old memories surged forth, unbidden. He recalled how, back when he was still a boy, others had dismissed him, mocked him behind his back. And now… now someone had noticed his determination.

— "Hey, what are you mumbling about?" — Jessica teased, trying to lighten the mood, though concern lingered in her eyes.

— "Nothing," — Mark snapped, though his voice lacked the conviction he wanted.

Jessica studied him for a moment but didn’t press further.

Mark, meanwhile, was still replaying Dan’s words in his head. And not just the words. Dan’s gaze, his tone, his mannerisms — they had stirred a storm of emotions, from irritation to confusion.

"How dare he say that? Likes it, huh... I used to hate guys like him," — Mark thought bitterly. Yet, somewhere deep down, another feeling surfaced: "He didn’t see Emma. He saw me."

That thought hit hard, leaving Mark momentarily stunned. It felt like the world paused, like someone had pressed a giant pause button on his life. But it didn’t last. He shook his head, his long hair brushing his face, a tickling reminder of what he had become. He exhaled sharply and pushed his hair behind his ears.

"Stronger than I look? What nonsense," — Mark muttered. But no matter how much he tried to dismiss the words, they kept echoing in his mind, carving themselves deeper into his thoughts.