Mystery Lake

  [55] Miranda Outta

  Cresting out of the water, what I had seen beneath dipped from my mind as a thousand new sensations wrapped me up in surprise and delight. I was someone else; I had been transformed completely and utterly.

  Breathing felt different, standing was bizarre, and existence was a new thing. I had a gigantic ass that wiggled and jiggled and followed me behind like an overwhelming reminder of how things were now. And boobs. My boobs monopolized so much of my vision. Everything about me felt desperately lewd. I needed to cover up, but I didn't wanna disguise the beauty of who I had become. It was challenging to figure out where to place my arms. So much boob I would have to adapt to. This was me; this would be me; this was my life.

  Despite my flourishing joy and blissful happiness, being cast into this new role was a bundle of uncertain nerves. Just speaking was a delirious revelation. I wanted to say more words in all sorts of ways with this voice and this form. Say them cute, say them sincerely, and say them with a voice I always wanted for myself.

  It was disconcerting to be shorter, but I had no complaints about that. I looked over at Alyssa, and a heady, ravenous hunger gripped me. I wanted him; I wanted to express all the little notions I kept clamped down inside. Without thinking about the implications or the consequences, I reached for Alyssa's new… Oh, why dance around it? Cock...COCK! This was such a taboo, such a strange new country to invite myself into, undiscovered and full of beautiful mysteries.

  Alyssa told me I didn't need to do this. I was probably going too fast, but she already did me this favor, and it only felt right to return the delight. Putting it in my mouth felt crazy. I worried about the choking little pubic hairs, but he didn't have many, and the water had slicked back the furriest elements. I was compensating. I knew that. I pushed as hard as I could. I dove deep into his intimate flesh. I needed this. I need it to be as far from who I used to be and all my old expectations as possible. Going that fast drove me to have to pull out and use the mass of my chest while I took a few breaths.

  Poor Alyssa was basically my victim, but hopefully in the most pleasant way. Taking her through as much crazy contact as I could wrap her in, I was tempted to just stop beating around the bush and use the gap between my legs. That would be too far, even though. I just wanted to solidify who I was. In Internet-spread stories of transformation I saved and savored, if you do the deed, there's no going back, just like with horror stories. No virgin girl, me. But I had to be at least a little rational because there were consequences.

  I finished her in my hands, and I knew when the blast was coming. The taste was weird and strangely blank, but it opened up my imagination to fill in the gaps. Tangy, sweet chili. It definitely didn't taste like that, but I could convince myself with a phantom sensation. This was me doing the girliest thing I could think of doing within arm's reach. I would finish the job. Literally a job. I had to resist the urge to giggle. And I could do that again. But this was enough—this was enough proof for me and anything else that mattered.

  The towel I was given was so much fun because I could wrap up those big jigglies and hint at my jutting double ends. It felt naughty to exist. I would surely get used to this, but the euphoric glee fueled me. Finally here I was, finally my soft destiny.

  I took care of things in what felt like a girly way. But everything I did would now be girly, no matter if I followed feminine prescription or not. A friend back home who I was just now catching up to would say that to be a girl or a boy was simply a choice of self-identity. It didn't require physical or any other overwhelming virtues.

  I believed that, or at least I wanted to believe that. But being able to show all these gorgeous traits was a quiet and inescapable affirmation. Yes, I could pretend; yes, the inside mattered more. My brain was blasted with ironic testosterone back in the womb to make the mind of a girl matter more than the vessel my body inhabited. I knew that. But this was awesome. Maybe not the exact body I would choose. Everything announced itself more distractingly than I wanted. But I wasn't going to complain.

  Talking with Roxanne was strange. On any other day before, we were just two boys. Now we were having a girl chat. She asked me if I was trans, and I gave an answer, whirling and meandering—a copout. She could probably read between my lines. She also probably noticed, along with everyone else, the way I was giving myself a reminder jiggle while playing with the orbs. Boobs still there and still so much fun to shake. What kind of person am I now? I could be anyone and anything.

  I made sure Roxanne was all right. She seemed to be taking all this quite well, despite not having any inkling for all this before. One would expect her to be firmly in tomboy territory. She had some moments soon after where she stomped around. But that kiss and so many other qualities felt beyond the possibilities of normal Joel.

  She called me Miss Rogers, and that tickled the deepest part of my soul. I pitched my new name to her without explaining that it was a silly choice based on a video game I liked. One name with so many other possibilities dropped away. It hardly seemed fair. Why couldn't I just adopt all the girl names to properly try out and winnow them down?

  Standing around Roxanne made me sympathize with her. The bulk of Joel was gone, and this was what was left. I could almost see myself in her shoes, not that I wanted to trade my big girls for her more modest form.

  And I had to collect some of this water. It was amazing, it was miraculous, and it presented so many possibilities. Everyone who desperately needs it should be able to partake. Of course, I knew that wasn't possible, but I wanted to do a little bit with it.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Share with Eileen; share with as many as I can. I imagined what would happen if the water transferred properties and spread. That would be an interesting little short film to craft. We head off from here and wind up at a motel. And then, by intention or accident, this two-gallon jug is poured into the central water line or the ice maker. So many surprised and transformed people. But I couldn't do that; Roxanne and Barry didn't have a choice in all this. Just a delirious idea.

  The water was fascinating. It wasn't the least bit dirty. I knew that from how far I could see under the water. I wanted to examine it so much. I wanted to understand how it worked. Then, we had visitors. The authorities, a man in black. I knew enough about pop culture to be extremely wary.

  Moving around was an absolute trip; I didn't need to force reminders as my body reminded me of itself all the time. In the car, Chiara wore so much unprocessed fear on her face. I placed a hand on her shoulder, not knowing what else to do. She gathered up the nerve to start the car.

  The rough dirt shook me all around, and those jiggles almost led to giggles. Get used to it, although I wanted to never get used to it.

  At the little ranger station, we were set up on the couch and meant to relax. This guy, this Agent Cerberus, looked like he wanted to put us at ease, but that just made me and the others tighten up as much as possible. We played his little game. What attracted my attention, though, was the watch that he gave Layla. I scrutinized it carefully. It looked exactly like something from the 1990s. When it touched her skin, I thought for a moment that there was a needle projecting from the underside.

  But Layla had no response to being possibly poked, if that was what actually happened. Maybe I was just seeing things, but I was worried about it. I expected that we would each receive something similar, like being tracked and tagged like animals. He didn't do that, though.

  He just took down our names and assured us that everything would be fine. His associate seemed like she could crush any of us with just a flex of her hand. But we were left alone and left to head on our way. It seemed that we were totally in the clear, even though I was still stressed about the secret reservoir stashed away. And I stressed about plenty of other things. I will always find a way to be stressed, no matter how many things leave me happy. At least just wanting to nibble my fresh nails was the worst sign of nerves.

  I presented my hunch about the folklore teacher to the group, not really expecting an answer but trying to burn off some of my anxiety in words. Finding a comfortable position on the seat with my oddly balanced body took up so much time. Not a bad thing, not a complaint, but just the things I needed to internalize and get used to.

  Layla's yell startled me almost as much as Chiara slamming on the brakes. I didn't even notice that we were so close to somewhere to eat. I could eat and, even better, I could showcase my new self to a crowd.

  Slipping out of the car, I gave a peculiar twirl when exiting. A little flourish, but it was fun, and I promised myself I would have more fun whenever possible.

  I felt a little weird when crossing the threshold into the restaurant, as if a new bout of gurgles had settled into my stomach. Normal anxieties, but it also felt strangely cold and dark inside. Not sure why. That ominous feeling was overridden by my conspicuous femininity. Look at these enormous boobs, and look at this ass following me! No one would think of me as anything but a girl.

  Compensation, maybe a little too much and a little too exuberant, but firmly planted in the joys I wished for. Every moment reminded me of who I was now. It was like having a good scab that you couldn't stop picking.

  I went with whole milk for my drink because I had the notion that it might firm up the girls even more. That was silly, but I was still going to do it and still going to drink it.

  When Chiara screamed, that drew my attention to our waitress. Once again, there was nothing really out of sorts. The girl seemed normal, but that vague, shaded inkling remained with me. I didn't say anything, as I often and always did when it came to weird and persistent hunches. I should've; this was the new me; this was the better me, but not everything changes all at once. I would be watchful.

  Instead of sharing my thoughts, I tried to explain away what she might be seeing as a hallucination brought on by some strange substance we didn't see in the water. It was a possibility but a poor one for explaining such a sudden appearance. Nothing else looked weird for poor Chiara, and my brain couldn't come up with an alternate, proper explanation.

  We went to the bathroom together, mostly to take a breather. Get away and do the girl cliché. Even though had all the official proof that I should be in the ladies restroom, I still hesitated, as if this were a foreign and forbidden place that I shouldn't be trespassing in.

  Roxanne nudged me out of that. It was just a place to poop and pee. Nothing more special than that, except for the fact that everything it was a sit-down. Yeah, no biggie. Peeing with a skirt was both quite easy and such a learning experience. The act of peeing felt like being contorted, crushed, stretched open, and intimately delicate. All new parts, all new ways. Just a simple thing, but so very different.

  Chiara looked like she was reeling too when we made our way out. Roxanne comforted us in a reserved fashion, far more than I could ever imagine Joel comforting any man. We needed that touch. We needed more, and she begrudgingly obliged. What a way of being, what a peculiarity! No one would've batted an eye at our manly selves, and now we've slipped to the other side so fluidly!