Mystery Lake

[47] Just Rest

Miranda was already taking a personal reflection of recent minutes and what might have caused her transfiguration. Roxy found it surreal to hear the girl using a version of her voice with the presence and cadence of Duncan.

She rambled through half-saved thoughts, like fragments of flipping through random channels in search of coherence. Flowers, sandstorms, underground tunnels, a long massage, needing to pee. Really needing to pee. Miranda held onto this last note as she nervously stood on Roxy's legs and asked to use the bathroom.

When she returned, still looking as if she hadn't quite finished, Miranda rubbed her arms around every uncertain sliver of exposed flesh. She looked at Roxy nervously, as if she had somehow borrowed her body and wasn't quite sure how to be the best caretaker. Not that she had much advice to offer; she only had a few hours head start.

The good news was that Miranda as her still basically fit into the flexible outfit the girl squeezed into. It was much looser in comparison, but also tight in places. At least she hadn't meditated into one of the boys. It didn't take long for Miranda to come up with the same assumption as Roxy, speaking in a blended voice. She invoked Mystique of comic book lore from her perspective and movies from years ago for Roxy. At least she didn't need to be a Smurf thing.

Miranda laid back on her pillow in a relaxed position and shut her eyes. The old lady retraced the meditative steps, and Miranda swallowed and nodded. It made sense to Roxy that whatever had happened should be reversible. If it wasn't, then Cerberus would have to do some extra work creating an identity for her sudden twin sister. Not an awful prospect. Their dorm had a rotating roster of other roommates, ranging from Russian exchange students to short-term basketball guys to future engineers who might say five words the entire time they were there.

Fortunately, they weren't forced to face that prospect, for in another blink of an eye, Miranda was back to her busty, big-breasted, pale-skinned self. She looked relieved for a few seconds before her mouth shot open in tense agony.

"Ohhhh, ohhh, cripes. Not good. Not good at all. I feel like my entire body has a blinding muscle stitch. Every muscle." Miranda was on the verge of hyperventilating as her eyes watered. The old lady scooted closer and gently encouraged her to calm down with breathing and gentle rubbing. She explained that her intuition sometimes also triggered pain like that.

Eugene, who had been watching the surprise transformation intently, fetched a spare blanket for Miranda to wrap around her body. Her continued grimace showed that she was struggling through it. It took several minutes for her breathing to return to normal and for her to settle back into a sitting position.

"I've felt worse pain, but not to such an all-consuming degree. That was... unpleasant. Like getting needles all over every inch of my body, and they weren't for acupuncture. I'm gonna need to lie down. At least I'm m... Miranda again. Cool ability. Lousy side effects. Maybe it just needs more of a lag time between uses. I'll have to test it again and rule things in and out without tempting all of that a second time." She gently massaged her body and winced. Alyssa came over to sit with her.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to Roxy that total physical transformations had consequences, as Layla felt nauseous. She sat up slightly, not much recovered, but figured real rest wouldn't come for a while. Eugene didn't reach for his phone to document this. The old lady sat with Miranda, checking to see if she needed anything, like a heating pad for the pain. She shifted her head a few times before finally nodding.

Chiara's change back had been largely ignored after the crazy situation with Miranda, which was probably what Barry preferred. The old lady got Chiara a comfortable jacket without skipping a beat while looking after Miranda and her other guests. The spring evening had shifted between mildly warm and sharply icy. That shouldn't have bothered Roxy in the least. But despite the softer, plush quality of her body, it felt instead like the weather shot right through her flesh as if the fat was nothing at all. She needed as much blanket as possible. And sleep promptly.

Most of the problems around the room had been solved. Barry was back to the girlish contours that felt most familiar now. Miranda had undergone a test without ever leaving the comfortable confines of girlish possibility. In fact, her pain seemed more like a pronounced lesson in the kind of monthly muscle cramps, bloating, and pelvic poop feeling Roxy had documented from Jess's side, with no intention of ever sharing in the same. She wondered if this lull was actually a first wave of unfriendly symptoms. At least she had done her part before she conked and clocked out. Even Alyssa still seemed bolstered, despite being left behind in her lesser vampire kin shape.

Explanations as to why Miranda had awakened to her current capabilities lay far from Roxy's thoughts. She was so well wrapped up that even the closest contact still felt light years away. The old lady casually continued her meditation lesson with Alyssa as the primary student left behind. No miraculous, spontaneous poof epiphanies occurred, but the withdrawn girl still seemed better off for the moments of mental alignment.

The evening settled in around them as the sounds of the modest town center whispered around the edges of the bricks like a far-off lullaby. So many places in this little thoroughfare caught their eye when they arrived. All of them were still so tempting and tantalizing, but all the weights were finally catching up. Even vibrant Layla drifted next to recharged Chiara, their wobbly weight barely balanced against each other. They were about to plop down together on the wooden floor. Jake boldly adjusted his shoulders and propped up his bulk with all his helpful intent focused on Roxy. It appeared that Miranda was coming out of the worst of the painful spell, but it had also drained her, and she now looked ready for a long soaking bath or steaming shower.

The old lady could read the room and informed them that there were three showers available amidst the spare bedrooms. One for each couple to share and not have to worry about her and her son. Roxy had had her shower quota but still felt like she could eagerly partake. Alyssa let go of her meditation ambitions and threw a loaner towel over her shoulder. Pajamas hadn't been a primary item to pack for the sake of camping, but the mass of reshuffled clothes offered a few possibilities. Alyssa lost most of her cares about her old wardrobe. It was communal now.

Although the rest of the saved water was not far away, Eugene's ambitions for it sharply receded. Perhaps, Roxy surmised, he had come to the obvious conclusion that for all the possibilities contained within the liquid, there was also the problem and complexity of dealing with those damn fairies and what they might do to his mind, at least. Instead, he focused on the paranormal shots that Barry had singled out for one reason or another.

Layla and Chiara left together with a single towel, joining them as practically twins. Jake had the same smiling ambition, and Roxy couldn't possibly deny him. They returned to the same bedroom that she had snuggled up in for her brief respite nap. Jake settled on the cushion to test its comfort and was soon ensnared by its softness.

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His eyes drifted closed, but he still curled up against her. Kissing him lightly all over his face, Roxy rubbed the tender spots all over his broad and hardened form. She found a place on his shoulder that responded to slow circles applied by the side of her thumb. Her poor boy drooped as all that tension and ache drained out.

When she was done, he wouldn't let her go. It was her turn after all. Her body was crunchy in all the ways that responded to a massage after a long exercise session. The difference now was that instead of Jess's enthusiastic but limited push and pull, Roxy felt like pounded pizza dough being twisted, pulled, and flipped in the metaphorical air. It was actually quite nice, and she went along with it.

Soon, Jake's hands found certain, familiar places to play and probe. Without the veil of flowing water, all of Roxy's tender flesh felt like a screaming cauldron. Ravenously, she wanted to get the last tickling mystery over with, to merge and slide herself around the fresh puzzle piece of Jake. But it was simply too much for her body and soul.

Once again, the intimate contact felt like blasting an electrical socket. With the addition of walls that were plenty thick, but probably nowhere near thick enough for this, she held back. Besides, if she got half paralyzed again, it would be an ordeal to wash up afterward. But Jake wasn't going to let her go. He stayed close and tickled her all over, teasing her near the explosive, dangerous zone.

They showered together, just like last time, but it was more of a careful dance than a deep exploration. Still, Roxy found that the gentle play still took her to ambitious heights and filled her with transcendent feelings. Most of this was probably due to the fact that they were fiddling with the placement of her key and lock. The least ambiguous probing.

It didn't matter to Roxy that Jake's most masculine aspect was chasing her most feminine one. Yesterday, Joel would have had a lot to say. Tonight, Joel's voice was transformed into mounting gasps and pleading whimpers, not quite indulged. They traced around the same warm threshold that Miranda had taken with Ross, and then some. So close—just a hair's breadth away. The persistent teasing actually sapped her strength more than crossing that boundary likely would've done. She had a few ways to keep herself on her feet.

They both found completion in their contact without pushing past the final barrier. They didn't fuck all the way. Such a crude and succinct way to put it, Roxy preferred the flowery twists and turns winding their way through her thoughts. In a way, she felt like she was losing touch with herself, even though she was completely there. Her friend, the possible princess, if she believed that little guy, didn't feel overbearing or controlling. She still seemed to be there, but perhaps just as exhausted as Roxy from all of this.

Bright and cheerful sentiments wafted between them. Roxy clung to Jake out of weakened necessity but also because she wanted to be there. Whatever hangups or distances the lessons and programming of a properly masculine, lady-loving life told Joel what he should've felt, they were far abandoned and faint reminders. Spooning with Jake felt just as natural as any intimate time with Jess. The abundant strength but also gentleness that surrounded them was the main difference from those past times, but it remained part of a single continuity of love and protection. Classic Lenny Kravitz songs fluttered through her head as the energy of the day wound down.

Jake was deeply asleep before her, and she stroked his soft hair. The others had all said their goodnights before slipping into their showers, but she still wondered how the deepening evening was treating them. Layla and Chiara were knit back together after the fraying of Barry. Would they find the same ambitious heights and depths to which Roxy had been taken, and would poor Chiara still be fumbling to find her feet even when morning rolled around? Miranda didn't deserve the flare of mimicry transformation pain that came with useless legs.

Allowing everything to relax against the yielding comfort of the pillows, Roxy found herself drifting off, though more like being carried to a destination. When she arrived, it was like walking into a theater where a banging, screaming movie was already well underway. She couldn't put it all together, but it was clear that something was wrong. The hero ran through dark and glittering corridors, like rough mines with rounded edges.

The walls didn't feel like stone, though. They were something else, something worse. A pervasive sickness gripped her like a tight band, and she refused to let go. As the character on the screen dashed between dimly lit passageways, she felt herself becoming winded in unison. The tight and twisting turbulence in her stomach was barely contained.

Marching echoed behind her. Her hands were bleeding. They trembled and clawed for any hold they could get. Throbbing pain surged everywhere as her legs finally gave out from under her. Down, she had to get down, into the shadows, into the dark; maybe she could hide. But there wasn't enough—not nearly enough to obscure her form. And there were too many coming—too many screaming voices. It didn't even feel like her feet were beneath her anymore, but somehow she managed to run, pressing against the slippery, treacherous earth. The world hurt so much, and the worst pain throbbed in her heart without a name to give it. No time for tears to flow; that was just wasted energy.

She had to keep going, but she couldn't. Too tired, too exhausted, dwindling away. The shadows swarmed over her, and what held her form together melted like ice on the hottest summer day. She screamed, and they laughed, and she begged for a name that died on her tongue. They lifted her up and dropped her down. Sunlight, darkness, cold and hot, and twisting and screaming in all directions. She wasn't alone, and yet every adjacent inch was filled with the hopes and fears of countless others. A prison, a torture chamber, a sex den, oblivion. No coming back.

But then, hands lifted her out, a familiar presence beating with a brave heart. Who was it? She knew them. Who was Alyssa? That wasn't her name. Freedom filled her, hope renewed, and home. She was so close to being back home. A caress, an embrace, and slipping inside.

Roxy's eyes popped open as sticky sweat tangled her hair and turned her neck into shivering ice. She didn't want to go back to the dream, but it felt so richly important to hold on to it. The barest details remained with her after she awoke. Her friend, the princess, that other aspect. It meant something. Not just a passenger in her body. But why was she so silent? Why couldn't she answer the questions that burned so brightly within Roxy? It was so desperately frustrating, fumbling for something that made sense. She was still so desperately tired and worn out, fighting a battle in the space of dreams and the waking world. Rest, all of her deserved rest.