A Brand New Goth Girl

[2]

With a deep breath, I went over to the sink just outside Beatrice and Norah’s room and filled a water glass. It tasted awful. We had nothing but hard water around here. Still, I needed that, even though it meant putting more strain on Beatrice‘s tiny bladder.

Out of all the possibilities before me, Bea’s online presence made me the most morbidly curious. I had no solid experience with what the heck OnlyFans was supposed to be. There were enough memes on the Internet that some thoughts were inescapable. Was I getting naked and lewd for strangers? I had no idea if I even wanted to get naked in front of myself. But clearly, that wasn’t who I was supposed to be now.

Taylor sulked in his room, trying to come up with a single original artistic idea. And his roommates easily forgot he existed, even before all this. Sure, he had a couple of older sisters who made it to the Olympics for archery and water polo and they ravenously encouraged him whenever he felt down. But mom and dad just wavered in and out of the margins by briefly assessing that he did all the things he was supposed to do. Evaluators and curious bureaucrats checked to see if this so-called Taylor was still around. Yes? Well, moving on.

Granted, when it came to Beatrice, I could only go by what I could see, but she looked to have everything together. Her art barreled over the boundaries of her room so much that she would soon run out of places to display it. She reveled in her body so thoroughly that she kept copious amounts of printed photos nearby despite the fact that no one really bothered to print actual photos anymore.

And I couldn’t even imagine how much of her phone space was filled up with pics. What I assumed was her phone sat in a wireless charger behind the monitor. It was absolutely huge and had a custom case with a sleeping purple pastel unicorn orbiting in space as a tiny planet. Likely her own design. Even stretching my black-tipped fingers around the back could only cover the bottom half.

She had the site bookmarked but I could find no easy app for me to deal with. Going to Bea’s page felt like what I imagined getting hit by a wave on a Hawaiian beach would be like. She had 87 notifications and each of them appeared recent. Steadying myself, I looked through them. It was a lot to take in.

You’re so cute. You’re so tiny! I wanna pick you up and play with you. That look is really sexy on you. You are ravishingly beautiful. Your room is kickass! Always wear fishnets, they look awesome on you! Oh, baby, you’re a beauty! I love comic book movies, but I’d rather watch something romantic with you. Your titties may be small but I still love them! All boobs are beautiful! Would you like a spanking? I have a cum tribute for you. You’re so hot. Don’t be depressed, we love you!

Depressed? Skimming along, it was so strange to see posts supposedly by “me” talking about things I had no idea about. But Bea had many poetry selections to go with recent art and photos that I couldn’t quite process yet. She talked about how she wanted a bright joyous light in her life, and she was inspired by making others smile and turning them on. She even waxed kind of philosophically about the idea of “turn-ons”.

I plopped down on her soft, well-decorated bed and cradled the phone. Was this just what I would’ve been as a girl? Did I slip or trip through the boundaries of reality until it decided that a girl was what I was supposed to be? Was goth just another coloring or shell for the stuff I already knew? Shit, no matter how much I might change, it still felt like I couldn’t fundamentally escape my own bullshit.

Well, screw hiding from “myself“ then. I was gonna do something else. Unfortunately, I wasn’t yet sure what that was going to be.

Confronting my new body felt appropriate. Beatrice wore quite an ensemble, so if she had plans to show it off online or anywhere else, I didn’t wanna mess up those plans. Though, I had no clue how to find out what they were.

She might have a diary somewhere, but I doubted it detailed her minute-to-minute intentions. Her phone was probably a better bet. It was trippy to think that this was a phone I’d never seen before, and yet it was mine. This cute goth girl’s phone. The Face ID responded to me when I looked at it. Another weird little thing.

Her wallpaper looked like one of her decorations with vaporwave pastel planets in a starkly colorful starscape. The reminders I could see involved shopping notes, class assignments, and important days. She had a huge collection of reminders for her roommates Norah, Kasey, and Rhea. Birthdays, family, schedules, extracurriculars, and so on. At least she left me enough details that the Bea they knew wasn’t going to up and suddenly turn into an inconsiderate asshole just because I didn’t know stuff. Despite all that, I couldn’t find her specific plans for now.

Kasey mentioned Bea going for a walk. So, we basically had the same plans, even though I couldn’t imagine this girl getting frustrated with her art. Although, I didn’t want to assume. So, if we were on the same wavelength, then whatever hunches I have wouldn’t be too wildly different than what she might have. And thinking through that…my inkling… is that she is nicely dressed…so why not show off? All right. So, how exactly do I do that?

I mean, I knew how to take selfies, but how do I take one that doesn’t suck? I could hunt through filters and settings, but surely a big honkin’ phone with multiple alien lenses on the back would be all set for anything.

I checked myself in the mirror again, brushed back my hair, and twisted my lips to make sure the lipstick was still good. Everything still seemed fine, although I could see dapples of sweat on my neck and forehead. For obvious reasons.

I tested what would be a good mirror angle. I bent my face down with a playful smirk while crouching and trailing my arms over my thighs. My tiny heart throbbed over feelings I still wasn’t quite processing. The walk here vividly told me that things were different downstairs, but that was a reminder I could hide at the bottom of the list. The same went for my boobs. Although, they kept announcing themselves.

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Meanwhile, I did my best not to think about how silly this all looked as I arched a hand up towards my chest, while the other pointed at my mysterious crotch. I was going from vague recollections of modeling photos and Instagram.

But something about this felt intuitive, like this was how it was supposed to look. I considered being on my knees with my mouth in a puckered, pouty circle, but that might be too much. Another pose that came to me was tracing my hands along the top to pull it taut while bunching it up around my crotch. You can never forget the crotch in sexy photos.

That one felt like an overt allusion to a famous Marilyn Monroe look, although I had none of the features to pull it off the same way. Maybe more like a princess in a gown with gossamer fabric frozen in action. This all felt like I was totally making it up on the spot. For Bea’s most vocal online supporters, I figured I’d have to think of something a little more adventurous.

They were apparently giving me money, so I guess I had to make it worthwhile. I wasn’t going to strip though. At least not until I figured out exactly how much money I was earning. The website was vague on that.

For them, I lifted up the baggy shirt to expose as much of my flesh as possible. I could tell Beatrice still had my mixed Taiwanese/Spanish/Welsh mutt heritage. I slipped the shirt completely off, bunched it together like a thin band with just the Incredible Hulk showing, and I dipped my head with a hopefully playful expression. My lacy black bra was underneath. From my normally flat-chested guy perspective, they looked slightly bigger than the loose t-shirt suggested.

I’d touched boobs before, but it was very different to feel them as your own flesh with your body responding to the sensation. I dipped the skirt just to where it felt like it might fall off but was still snug. Unfortunately, my ambition for the shot collided with not knowing how I would snap this photo.

A quick check told me that Bea didn’t have a tripod or anything. It took a lot of finessing to hold the phone in front of my chest, with the bunched-up top artfully posed and my crotch on the verge of being exposed while looking playful in a mirror. I took about a dozen shots to get close to what I intended.

It was both fascinating and kind of surreally sexy that the stuff I imagined a girl doing, I could do myself and get immediate results.

Since I’d at least accomplished something with this getup, I felt better about undressing. It was early for my usual shower. There were days when I missed it altogether, but I wanted to at least get a better impression of myself and this body. Dropping the Marvel top on the bed, I glanced through the closet for something to put on afterward.

It was immediately obvious that Beatrice didn’t believe in pants. She had big fluffy woolen skirts that looked like loose leg blankets but that was about as close as she got. I picked out a top with ornamental gray vines that laced around thin sleeves.

For a skirt, I considered one that would go almost to her ankles because that felt like the less… Horny choice. Looking at her site, she already had enough horny as it was. Ehh, screw it… I went with a rather short but pleasant black velvet skirt with crosses on the fringe. The length seemed dangerously close to threatening panty shots.

As I prepared to undress further, I turned and heard the front door click open. Swift, confident footsteps made their way over to the door. Through the doorway stepped a girl with medium-length red hair tinted starkly bright with patches of the original auburn showing. Wide golden glasses covered her face as she walked to the bed on the other side of the room and plopped down. She had on a rustic brown jacket with a floral blouse underneath and green tights. Casually, she glanced at me and asked, “Hey, Bea, what’s up? Feeling better? My date canceled on me, so it’s just you and me tonight. Wanna watch something stupid online?”

I wasn’t sure what to say. The fact that a girl, who didn’t know, walked into the room, into what was now MY dorm room, felt like an event in itself. Part of me nervously expected that she would scrunch up her eyes, detect some flaw in my appearance, my presence, or my very soul and point at me with wide eyes and an open, hissing mouth like an ending scene out of a horror movie I saw when I was way too young for it.

I felt like my hand was caught in the cookie jar, like it was obvious I wasn’t supposed to be here and I had taken someone else’s stuff and life. But she just looked at me expectantly, with vague confusion that I hadn’t said anything yet.

I cleared my throat with an awkwardly tiny cough and uttered a quick apology before starting, “Just the usual. I’m so sorry. What a bummer. Sure, we can do whatever. I was just gonna wash up because I feel all sweaty and stuff.” That was either the worst performance of Beatrice or… no that definitely had to be the worst. I felt so self-conscious trying to sound sort of like me yet as far from myself as possible and as much like girls I’d overheard occasionally who were also goths.

If I completely confused Norah, she hadn’t let it show yet. She just agreed to everything I said and promised to look up something online we could watch, while she encouraged me to have a good shower, and tacked on a last comment, “I think it would be better if we just stay inside for tonight. Downstairs was all sorts of crazy. There were a bunch of girls just screaming for no reason and a few were acting like it was spring break. Total sluts, you know?” She motioned pulling up her top to explain.

I nodded my head and simply said, “Oh yeah, weird.” In my head, I had to wonder if this was because of something like what happened to me. I could go down and check. I finally felt calm enough to deal with whatever was down there. I mean, I hoped so. But if things were crazy then taking a much-needed restroom trip and a shower might be good to do first.