1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 16. Chapter 16 17. Chapter 17 18. Chapter 18 19. Chapter 19 20. Chapter 20 21. Chapter 21 22. Chapter 22 23. Chapter 23 24. Chapter 24

Story Notes: This is heavily researched speculative fiction based on the science of brain development. Core centers of the brain have different physical sizes and activity levels in men and women. A lot of this occurs during puberty. So what happens when you take a 17-year-old jock, age regress him, and then quickly send him through the stages of female puberty? For a scientific explanation, see "The Female Brain," by Louann Brizendine.

Author's Chapter Notes: Having recently lost his father to a motorcycle accident, rebellious teenager Brad Dowdy wants to prove that he can handle what his father couldn't.

Chapter 1

Same as It Ever Was



A sweltering Florida day.



Brad Dowdy, Madison High’s tight end wiped his brow as perspiration drizzled onto the green Florida grass. Behind him, to the left, was Randy Fernandez, the star quarterback and Brad’s best friend. Flanked out wide was Brian Martinez, one of the fastest receivers in the state and the flashiest of the “Fly Brothers.” The trio was known for their dazzling air attacks which almost led Madison High to the state championship as juniors. Local papers actually had several nicknames including “The Triplets,” and “The Three Amigos.” With dark hair and brown eyes, the three looked like they belonged together.



It was a blistering August day in Central Florida. But it was really early May. Spring practice had wrapped up weeks before, but the Madison High triplets had work to do. Brian didn’t want to be there, but Brad pushed. And once Randy bought in, Brian had no choice. Despite Brian’s school records, Brad was becoming Randy’s favorite target. Brian couldn’t have that.



“Hut!” Randy called and the jailbreak was on. As Brian sprinted toward the post, Randy counted to three and threw low ten yards down the middle. Anticipating defenders, he threw the ball low for Brad to sacrifice his body with a diving catch. Sweating through the first heat wave of summer. But it was early May. And the barbaric sun shouldn’t have arrived yet.



As Brad scraped himself off the turf, Brian grimaced while trotting back to the huddle.



“I was open,” he said, shaking his head in disapproval as if Randy had cost them the game.



“Of course you’re open,” Randy shot back. It was only the three of them on the high school field. “But it’s third down.”



Brian held the record for the longest touchdown in school history. He also had the second… and the third. But for every 60 yard touchdown he caught, he Brian Martinez dropped two. No throwing to Martinez on third down unless you wanted to punt. Brad on the other hand caught the ball. Always. No matter how hard he would get hit. No matter where Randy placed the ball.



“That’s it,” Brian stated looking at his watch. “One hour. You said practice would last an hour.”



Brad rolled his eyes as he looked at his quarterback. Sacrifice: the key to personal growth. The key to team accomplishment. You only get one life. Make the most of it. Brad didn’t need to say it out loud. Randy understood it through the mental link the best friends had.



“We did say one hour, Brad,” Randy said in response to what Brad was thinking.



Sweating through the first heat wave of summer, the trio did get in some solid work. The barbaric sun shouldn’t have arrived by this point in May, but here it was. While Brian obviously didn’t want to be here, Randy couldn’t judge him too harshly. The flowers in the end zone garden didn’t want to be outside either.



The three huddled up, each placing a hand in center.



“You only live once!” Brad said.



Randy followed, “One, two, three…”



“YOLO!” they shouted in unison as hands went up and the huddle was broken. YOLO: the mantra of a generation. And more than just a catch phrase, it was a challenge. Since you only live once, you shouldn't be afraid to try new things. In fact, you should embrace them.



# # #



Brad's mother Sheila rang the doorbell at the Brown family home. The pretty blonde woman in her late thirties had become close with the family ever since Brad started dating their oldest daughter. With three girls, the Browns had triple what Sheila always wanted: a daughter. Along with Allison, who was Brad's age, Jennifer Brown also had girls at 12 and 14. It was the youngest of the girls, Maggie, who opened the door.



Like all of the Brown girls, including their mother, Maggie had chestnut hair with red highlights and green eyes. The traits were leftovers from Jennifer’s Irish heritage. Maggie’s shoulder-length brown locks were tied in pigtails with twin pink ribbons securing and accenting them. In a split second, Sheila took in the preteen's outfit. Maggie wore a white romper with ornate flair around the neckline, sleeves, and leg cuffs. Maggie's lace socks went perfectly with the frills, and her white Mary Janes completed the outfit. She looked up at Sheila, and batted her eyelashes fishing for a compliment.



"Well, don't you look pretty!" Sheila said as she emphasized the word "pretty." Maggie's preteen face lit up with a toothy grin. As Maggie seemed to be rolling her head around, Sheila tried to guess what she was showing off. "Oh those ribbons are beautiful," Sheila added, referring to her pigtails.



"She's been playing dress up with her friends," Mrs. Brown explained. "We just got Maggie her own mascara and lip gloss."



"Oh, honey, your makeup is gorgeous," Sheila continued as Maggie's face lit up again.



"Oh, what a precious moment," Sheila said. She remembered how happy she was when her parents started letting her keep her own makeup. Sheila stared at the girl and drifted off into space. She loved the outfit and imagined a blonde girl that age with fair skin and blue eyes wearing it. Then she imagined giving the girl her own makeup to put in her purse as the girl’s face lit up. If only.



"Well, this is third time," Mrs. Brown said while trying to downplay the event. "But it was a special moment."



It was a moment Sheila would never get to share with her own daughter. Since the death of her husband, Brad's father, little things that she didn't have were sticking out a bit more. She loved her son and she loved her family enough to give up her own dreams. But with her husband gone and Sheila approaching forty, she wished she could do some of that over.



Hearing a girl scream from upstairs, "C'mon, Maggie! Hurry up!" Maggie darted off. It left the two ladies to talk. While Jennifer Brown spent her days running charitable causes and socializing with high-end housewives, Sheila worked. So ever since Sheila's husband died, Mrs. Brown did what she could to help. Today she was introducing Sheila to her social group. Sheila didn't have anywhere near the net worth to join the group, but Jennifer insisted they wanted a real estate agent in their group. Those ladies bought and sold investment properties all the time. It was a great opportunity.



"I can't tell you how much I appreciate this," Sheila said as she followed Jennifer to the living room.



"It's nothing," Mrs. Brown said. "You're good people."



Sitting on the couch was one of the wealthiest ladies in town: Rose Forrester. The woman in her mid forties was married to one of the biggest real estate moguls in town. Rose "dabbled" in small investment properties as a hobby, buying and selling like a middleman would trade tomatoes.



"Rose, this is Sheila Dowdy, the real estate agent I told you about,"



"Charmed," Mrs. Forrester said.



"No, the pleasure is mine," Sheila countered.



"I'm looking for a new real estate agent," the socialite said. "I've never had a woman represent me before."



"Oh, why's that?"



"Because women should be home with their families," Rose continued. "Tell me, Sheila, do you have a family?"



An hour later, Sheila walked out of there with a listing, but a little less self-respect. She didn't want to work, especially a sales job. But reality dictated it as she was now the sole bread-winner. But the way Rose Forrester put it, Sheila was a bad wife and mother. What kind of mother was she for running around every night when she should be home with her son? Rose Forrester didn’t think very highly of it. And still crushed by the recent loss of her husband, Sheila started to feel the same.



# # #



Brian put his hands on his knees as the sweltering sun beat on his face. Brad motioned to Randy to start walking to the parking lot.



“Gotta lock the press box,” Randy said as he tossed a key in the air. Access to the field and the press box after hours wasn’t something every student got.



“It’s open?” Brad asked thinking of the restroom and the refrigerated bottled water. “I’ll go with.”



As the two made their way up the stairs on the Erector Set stadium, the reflective metal made the fiery sun even brighter.



“Ow,” Randy said as he mistakenly grabbed the metal railing. “That’s hot.”



“Oh yeah?” Brad challenged as he grabbed the rail. “Wow, that is hot,” he agreed while not letting go.



“Mind over matter,” Randy observed, impressed with Brad’s sacrifice.



When the metal cooled to skin temperature, Brad let go.



“Play through the pain,” he said. “You only live once.”



Then, like the superhero Flash, Brian went screaming by. No point trying to catch him as he bolted to the top and slammed the press box door behind him.



Making their way to the top, Randy entered with Brad close behind. With Brian nowhere to be seen and the bathroom door closed, the quarterback made a beeline to the fridge. He tossed his friend an ice cold water bottle that hit Brad square on the numbers. With a sky view of campus, they noticed some activity at the school swimming pool.



Cheerleaders!



Randy opened the desk drawer at the announcers table, tossing Brad some binoculars. As the two checked out the activity by the pool, Brad smiled. Ten cheerleaders, including his girlfriend Allison and Randy’s former girlfriend Alexis, were pulling on their cover-ups and primping. Alexis and Allison couldn’t be more different. Brad could never figure out why they were such good friends. Like Brad, Alexis came from a very middle class family. The bottle blonde cheerleader had a rockin’ bod, but kind of a crater face. She wore a lot of makeup. But the real reason Brad never liked her is that she seemed to concerned with material things. Brad got the impression that she only hung out with Allison to gain access to her stuff. Alexis wasn’t that friendly to begin with, but she sure did wave a lot when cruising around in Allison’s BMW. And Brad always thought she treated randy more like a prize or a trophy than a real person. Randy would never have stayed with her if she wasn’t putting out. And she was certainly using sex to manipulate him.



Allison on the other hand was the picture of poise and grace. With the Irish features inherited from her mother, she had beautiful hair, skin and eyes. And like everyone in her family, she was giving. Most girls her age didn’t give up their time to feed the homeless or volunteer at the senior center, but Allison did. She was also one of the smartest girls in school. A betting man would say she destined to become a prominent doctor, just like her father.



“Even in this heat they’re standing there doing their makeup,” Brad observed with a laugh.



“That’s insane,” Randy chuckled. “I’ll never understand chicks.”



“Tell me about it,” Brad agreed. “Know why you’ll never understand chicks?”



“You only live once?” Randy said.



“YOLO,” Brad confirmed. “YOLO.”



Slam! Sounded the bathroom door, jarring the two form their conversation.



“Later losers,” Brian said, dashing to towards the entrance to the press box. Slam! He was gone.



Though supposedly joking, Brian’s statement epitomized Brad’s feelings toward the receiver. In fact, that’s why Brad hated “The Three Amigos.” Maybe they were “The Triplets” because they looked alike and accounted for most of team’s offense. Maybe they were “The Fly Brothers” because they were brothers in aerial battle. But they weren’t really friends. At least not Brian.



“Ready?” Randy asked as he placed his binoculars back in the drawer.



“Hang on,” Brad replied, making his way to the bathroom.



“Gross!” he said aloud as he closed the door. “Brian pissed all over the seat again.” The toilet seat was down, and it looked like someone took a urine-filled garden hose and sprayed it all around the toilet. Brad didn’t dare touch it to lift it up himself. But he did do his best to hit the toilet. Some unlucky person would have to clean the mess up after everything dried. He finished his business, washed his hands, and descended the stadium stairs with his best friend.



As Brad and Randy silently made their way to the parking lot, Brad focused on their mission. He wasn’t the most athletic of The Fly Brothers, but he planned to work harder and do anything necessary to help them win. Meanwhile, Randy was going over plays in his head. Even when the two weren’t talking, they were thinking the same thing.



As Allison walked up to her BMW, she saw Brad and Randy over my Randy’s car. She watched as her boyfriend helped the quarterback pull down the ragtop of the Mustang convertible.



As Randy drove off, Brad approached his girlfriend who waited with a smile on her face. Since he didn’t own a car, she was excited he would be riding home with her. Brad picked up the pace anticipating a hug and a kiss.



“Hi, handsome,” Allison greeted as she ran up to her boyfriend. She stood face to face… almost… as he was a good head taller.



“Hey gorgeous,” the tight end replied. Too sweaty to wrap his arms around her, Brad kissed her forehead.



“Your mom showing houses?”



Brad checked his cellphone. He had two new texts.



“Looks that way,” he answered. As a newly single parent, Brad’s mother found herself working more and more.

“Guess I’m on my own.”



“You’re never on your own, Brad,” Allison replied. “I’ll always be there for you.”



Brad smiled. Allison always had a way to get his guard down. No need to prove himself around her; she loved him unconditionally.



“Is that an invitation?”



“It is spaghetti night,” Allison replied.



“I’m there!”



“It’s way too hot out here,” Allison responded as she opened the driver side door. “Let’s go.”



“Oh, I’m good,” Brad said nonchalantly, “I brought my bike.”



Allison looked across the way. And though she liked to think of herself as not having a temper, she pretty much blew her top.



“A motorcycle?” She said as her voice rose and her face turned red. “You rode your motorcycle?”



“What’s the big deal,” Brad replied.



Brad had ridden motorcycles most of his life, starting with a dirt-bike in the 4th grade. But ever since his father lost his life riding on the highway, Brad’s mother forbid it. The problem was his father put thousands into restoring a classic Indian for Brad’s sixteenth birthday. She didn’t quite understand why it wouldn’t sell for what he put into it, so it sat in the garage. At least she thought it sat in the garage. Unbeknownst to her, Brad was riding it when she wasn’t around. And lately, he had become bolder, taking it out for longer and longer times. Today he brought it to football practice.



“Life is for living. You only live once you know.”



“And you only die once, you selfish son of a bitch,” Allison replied, shaking. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. And think about your poor mother!”



“Relax, Allie,” Brad tried to assuage her. “Bikes don’t kill people, people do.”



“Well, then who killed your father?”



“Don’t go there!” Brad shouted. “That’s exactly why I’m riding it. To prove it wasn’t his fault.” Brad was fighting off tears. “It just happened,” he said. “It just happened.”



“I know it did,” Allison said. She tried to compose herself and tried to calm down Brad. “But this is going to be a special summer. Please be there for it.”



“You mean?”



"I love you, Brad,” she said. “It’s almost time.”



Those were the words he wanted to hear. Brad thought back to prom night. Brad, Allison, Randy, and Randy's date Alexis shared a limo. Allison dressed in the sexiest dress his teenage eyes had ever seen. It was a kind of a light blue with a touch of green that Allison called Sea Lilly. Allison looked breathtaking. The super short prom dress was strapless with a ruched corset top with sparkly sequins. The skirt flared like popcorn into a taffeta explosion. With three-quarter length opera gloves in the same soft sea lilly and gold strappy high heel sandals, Allison's heavenly outfit was topped with hairband adorned with a silken rose. The outfit was so sexy, Brad wondered how her parents let her leave the house. That's because Brad's mother almost didn't let him out with her.



Like any teenage boy, the hope for sex dominated Brad's every thought. And his desire increased tenfold after watching his best friend Randy deflower his girlfriend. It happened one night late after practice. Coach went home and let the quarterback lock up after he showered. Brad, also staying late walked into the showers where he saw Randy deflowering his girlfriend. He watched as Randy's monstrous cock penetrated the girl's hole. It must have been her first time as she screamed when his engorged penis entered her. As Randy rhythmically pounded into her female flesh, Alexis writhed in pleasure, pain, and ecstasy. Brad's loins reacted to the situation as his mind drifted to Allison. He loved her. Were they ever going to take that step?



“Okay,” Brad conceded. But it was always almost time. “Just help me get it home.”



“And you won’t ride it again?”



“Sure.”



“Promise?”



Brad was silent.



“Why is this so important to you?” Allison asked. She really didn’t understand.



He looked at Allison, over at the bike, and down at his feet. Then he spoke.



"You only live once, Allison," Brad said with a rebellious smile. "Make the best of every day. Be true to who you are. YOLO."



Allison had no response. She opened her car door. “But there's nothing you can do in death. Please don't risk it.”



Brad climbed on his bike his father fully restored for him: a 1950 Indian. A bike you just don't find any longer. Frame immaculately restored, brought back from a junkyard death. Wheels glass beaded and clear-coated. Brakes rebuilt, with custom drilled rotors and rebuilt calipers. Motor stripped, glass beaded and urethaned. A 55-horsepower motor, new hand controls, and everything rewired. To sum it up, the bike was a head turner. It screamed.



Cruising down the road, Brad felt like he was flying. Not flying in a plane… flying like Superman. Even the Florida sun couldn’t hurt him as the wind worked like teflon against the heat. It felt like riding on a bullet. The only thing better was sex. And since Brad had yet to experience that sensation, there simply was nothing better.



Allison kept her distance as she followed her boyfriend home. Having seen photos from Brad’s father’s accident riding a similar classic bike, visions of Brad’s mangled body flashed through her mind. As cars darted in, out and around him, she hated every moment of the ride home.



At traffic lights, pedestrians stopped for a look. Drivers gave a thumbs. With the attention, Brad on the other hand was loving every minute of it. At least that’s what he told himself. Approaching one of the busiest intersections in town, the light started to turn. This time, he wasn’t going to stop.



With almost no weight to the bike, the acceleration was insane. “This is why I ride,” Brad shouted as he gunned it. He looked back as Allison applied her brakes.



Braking, Allison watched in horror as a fuel tanker turned in front of her boyfriend. But his head was still turned.



“YOLO,” Brad thought to himself as he turned his head just in time to see his world was ending.



And with sparks flying as her boyfriend's body scraped across the pavement, a ball of fire enveloped him like The Human Torch. As Brad said goodbye to everything that was, a part of Allison also died.

Chapter End Notes: Next: A scientific breakthrough tries to save Brad's life.