A Brand New Goth Girl

[5]

I needed a drink. Not the hard stuff, just a stiff Sprite. I rummaged through and sifted out a few coins from Beatrice’s purse. The vending machine over by the door provided large bottles. This end of campus didn’t have any snacks vending machines with what sweets my roommates wanted. I would have to head back for those. Thirty minutes though.

Checking the clock, I estimated about how much time I had, including travel back to the dorm along with writing out exactly what I decided. What would I decide? That was a big question.

So, did my “benefactor” not have a direct say in how I turned out? Maybe it was some kind of magic spell or a random curse. The message left plenty of ambiguity. It was also particularly creepy that he or she seemed to be watching me as I made my way around the campus. Were they a classmate who simply made themselves invisible, a spirit outside of our dimension, or something I couldn’t even begin to comprehend?

What could I ask for? The message left me with so many possible directions. I could ask to be restored to Taylor but, considering the mood of the communication, I doubted they would be favorable to that. I could also theoretically ask to be made a proper girl with my memories all purged and reconstituted. It would be like I was always Beatrice from the beginning. I would never know anything different. Basically, erasing myself. Terrifying, yet soothing.

Considering the way that I spent part of the walk earlier, that didn’t sound like the worst prospect. Clear away all my confusion, mental wrestling, and feelings of inadequacy against this cute goth girl. Much of the world seemed to think that Beatrice had always been this way, and going along with that seemed an inevitability.

As much as part of me agreed with the notion of sinking into oblivion, another part of me vehemently fought back. Beatrice was the same as me, Beatrice was just the girl I would’ve been. Whatever schism existed would eventually be healed by time and acclamation. It was a pleasant notion but one with a tenuous foundation. I wanted to continue existing but, at the same time, I felt my best existence would come in matching Beatrice.

But there were other options to consider first. I could ask to be…emphasized in all my qualities currently displayed in a limited fashion. For example, what happened to Brian. Big titty goth Beatrice. Curvy and voluptuous to make all those salivating fans online drown themselves in thirst. That had to be a possibility, considering all the results surrounding me. Did I want it though and would it serve Beatrice to go down that route?

I could also press my ambitions and ask for a power comparable to this invisible presence. Maybe helping him or her with these transformations might be a way to repay my gratitude through service. Rather presumptuous, but it was another possibility to reflect on before making a final decision. I pondered all this and more while sipping my Sprite and ambling back towards the dorm.

I doubted that I might find a sign along the way which would guide me to the most correct resolution, but I ran into something even more interesting. I ran into Norah‘s boyfriend. Well, he was abundantly a girl at this point, but I recognized her from what Norah showed off, thinking it was a pitiful attempt at an explanation. I was decently confident it was the same girl as in that photo. Couldn’t hurt to check.

Before she dashed away in fear and confusion, I called out with cupped hands, “Do you know Norah in room 212?”

She had an interesting look, with a dangling sports top and twisted red shorts looking like she put them on backward and then attempted to swivel them around without removing them. She had wide hips and evident boobs along with so much dark hair that it practically reached past her behind and nearly got caught on her legs.

“Norah?!? Where?” Okay, I had my girl.

I relayed, “I’m her roommate and she deserves an explanation.” The girl wobbled and retreated cautiously from me. “I tried to tell her, I texted her. But she wouldn’t believe me, she hates me. I don’t wanna hang around here and get turned into something worse. I’m hitching a ride on the city bus and going as far as I can back home, even though that’s Northern California.” She had a purse and a backpack but nothing else for that long of a trek.

Throwing up my hands, I urged her to just come with me, apologize to Norah, and not have to deal with smelly hobos for five-hundred miles. I even threw in that I had some idea of what was happening and I might be able to help her. That actually made her warier.

I didn’t have time for any of this as I was under a thirty-minute constraint. Fuming, I remarked that Norah was really upset and he broke her heart and if he didn’t come with me then I hope that whatever befell him be…whatever. It certainly wasn’t the greatest ultimatum, but it was about the best I could do at that point.

I stormed off and left it in her hands. She tagged along, nervously asking about exactly how upset Norah was. I didn’t need to play it up as just quoting her was sufficient. The maelstrom or rather female strom… okay, that was a bit much… from earlier had abated to a regular sort of chaos you would expect of any dormitory in the afternoon. The absolute lack of guys sure instilled a curious energy through the area.

The former boyfriend demurely, nervously clung to my arm like we were sneaking into a haunted house in the middle of the night despite the lack of fearful sights. It was especially awkward as she was taller than me. I made sure to pick up the snacks everyone requested.

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Rhea allergic to peanuts. So, I went with Smarties because of her color coordination. For Kasey’s caramel crush, I only needed a Riesen. And, for Norah, my companion approved of and recommended the Hershey’s dark nuggets. I gave them the bag to offer up as recompense.

Halfway up the stairs, they started to chicken out though. How could their girlfriend see them like this with greater boobs than her and such a dainty figure? I quipped that so long as they didn’t try to masturbate in front of them, it should be fine. Unfortunately, they confessed that they had spent a decent amount of time exploring that possibility before bolting from the dorm until I found them. And further confessed that their hands desperately wanted to wander in certain directions. That that was too much information went without saying.

Again, I didn’t have time for this. I walked them to 212 and presented everything. They would just have to deal. Beatrice‘s roommates enjoyed my finds. Rhea wore a gorgeous, lengthy French braid of her hair that reached down to her lap. Seemed like the new girl could use her help in controlling her massive sheet of hair. I also adored Rhea’s rainbow banded top, beginning with red at the hem and cycling back to it on her shoulders. It was something that I privately wished to wear too, even though it broke Beatrice’s aesthetic.

Norah scowled and recognized the visitor from the text her boyfriend sent. Before she could properly chew them out, the girl dropped to her knees and offered up every romantic and private mention that only the man she should’ve been would know. I deliberately, gradually scooted out of the room so that I wouldn’t accidentally overhear all the stuff that Norah didn’t want anyone to hear.

It took several minutes, but she eventually believed the strange girl by sheer force of evidence and the pressure of a few mysterious text messages and social media posts propping up the notion that boys had been turning into girls all over campus. Nervously, I returned, stood before all that, and prepared to fling myself over the edge too.

“I used to be a boy as well and I got transformed.” Norah initially laughed that off as a silly joke, but I stuck to it and reassured her this was the truth. I pointed out the way that I didn’t know about the gift I gave her, highlighted how disappointed I felt in my confusion about not being a better roommate, and dwelt on so many other personal failings that bothered me.

I prepared for a slap but instead received a generous hug as she stood up and embraced me. Norah noted, “It doesn’t matter what you used to be. Heck, the way things stand right now, who knows if I started out the week as some burly trucker dude? Are you a girl right now? Do you want to stay that way?“

Abundantly, I reassured her that I was Beatrice and I promised to do all I could and be the best Beatrice possible. This was me. I just didn’t want to not cause any trouble. Just help everyone and create beautiful art. And maybe pictures for perverts, I don’t know. But I just wanted to be happy.

Norah waited through that spilling, confused confession, and told me, “You totally are Beatrice, oh my God. This is exactly the way she would freak out about the littlest things and seek validation of her sense of identity. She also pined for bigger boobs. So silly. In fact, I wonder if someone just made you think you used to be a guy to mess with you. Never know. But I want you to be happy in all things. You’re my friend. No confusion or worry. Now, as for this chick over here, I think she owes me at least a platonic date where I get to tease her and braid her hair.” Norah wrapped her arms around the startled boyfriend and dragged her over to the sofa, where she’d already set up the smart screen for the silly videos we were going to watch. I was, of course, welcome to be a part of it, but I had one thing I still needed to take care of first.

After downing the final sips of my harsh Sprite, I peered at the blank reverse of the paper I’d been left. The remaining minutes slipped away. Eventually, I settled on what I needed to write to this mysterious force.

“Thank you for everything. I appreciate it. I’m still figuring it out, but I have incredible friendships to help me along the way. Thank you for your blessing, and I leave it up to you what happens to me next.” I could’ve said so much more or qualified the notions into something safer but that felt sufficient and yet open enough. Whatever happened now was out of my hands.

I set the paper on the quietest, safest spot over to the far side opposite the billiards table. Mere steps from where my world changed just a few hours ago. Now, it would change again one way or another. I walked slowly and wondered how she might alter me again. Perhaps, I really would get erased and replaced with a Beatrice without doubt and confusion. A perfectly happy Beatrice.

I heard a rustle and a shift. Turning back, it was easy to see that a small, fair pink object sat on top of the paper I placed. It was a peculiar-looking flashlight. Carefully, I picked it up and examined the paper for further clues.

It read, “No dice. That would be too easy. I’m gonna turn that around and leave everything to you. This light produces a pink beam that emphasizes and establishes a girlish presence in anything and everything. That’s all I’ll give you but there are many tricks to this one. Play around with it and see what happens.”

The choice was mine, still mine, which brought a sense of ease but even more stress as I realized the multitude of possibilities something like this suggested…