Mystery Lake

  [54] Duncan Do It

  I have wanted to be a girl as far back as I can remember. It was always uncomfortable. I had to couch my rare, nervous comments about it in reams of curiosity. Wouldn't it be interesting? Think of the gender understanding that could be fostered.

  I knew that there were ways of crossing the divide between the sexes through medical means. Snipping of the flesh, medication, and all sorts of therapies. The extent of the possible. It was fine. I'd probably be disappointed, even with how much of an ambiguous head start I had. A soft face, fluffy hair, and a body and shape that already looked prepped for an estrogen overload.

  My family was supportive, and I was one of the few members of it. Mom claimed that she supported me in all ways, with all things, but there was the unspoken fine print that she would be disappointed in a gay child and especially upset if the man she gave birth to turned his back on that selfless gift of a masculine body. Precise guilt was her adept weapon. Dad just lightly followed whatever she said. I didn't hate on either parent or any of my extended family who dropped painful messages without considering how I felt.

  I kept it all bottled up inside, preserving the pointed screams for home movies and silly little scripts. It was surprising how many random girls actually wanted to be a part of my ridiculous ideas. They treated it like an adventure from self, an exploration of the physical. Some didn't take it farther than that; it was just a performance and an exploration. I wished so hard that I could borrow their boobs and trade them their period pain for whatever privilege I was perceived as holding.

  I wandered lonely as a cloud upon the field of education, dipping and diving without destination. The first moments of schism I could remember were when playgroups were divided up into boys and girls. I tormented the girls at the earliest age—call it jealousy, call it a temper tantrum, call it a kid who didn't know better. It was like I was sabotaging all my early efforts to ingratiate myself with my peers on the other side.

  I wanted to kiss the boy Freddy as we played silly games of pretend climbing the metal fence surrounding the field. You couldn't do that, though; that was a joke; that was the oblivion threshold. Like a "total fag." That's what they said; that's what I had to parrot. Why go play with anyone if they would never understand the weirdness I had to keep it inside?

  So, I wandered, explored the realm of bugs and curious little mud mounds, and made games of all the possibilities. Maybe I might be spirited away by some curious fairy whose magic might transfigure me into the form I truly wanted and leave behind a changeling copy to fulfill all the dreams, destiny, and happy hopes that everyone projected onto me.

  I changed schools so often, but everyone was so kind and helped me in ways I couldn't possibly pay back. My wild adventures played out between the meager minutes after eating as much lunch as I could bother with and being summoned back to another class. The nasty-placed hair and disappointing softness with a rough and ragged voice made me sympathize with girls who received white whale bodily changes instead of the dreams we both wanted. I knew rationally that the girls' side was not an idyllic heaven of fancy dresses, 19th-century tea parties, and fair feelings. But just claiming that the lady grapes were not as luxurious as what fanciful things danced in my mind didn't dissuade me from the pursuit.

  I waited and played the roles that everyone expected of me. Ever onward, every day. I hoped that college might allow me to explore undreamt-of boundaries and push beyond them. But for all the chaos, the reinvention, and the lip service given to being different, every space had its rules and quiet expectations. So, why not say "fuck that" to all that? I'm not bold enough; I may never be. I am the sort to be caught in a change rain, lamenting what happened with all my voice but smiling inwardly. When will my inward space become my true face, my cover, my shell, my truth?

  I had fun transforming the idea of a change rain into a crazy little film short to share with quiet embarrassment to all my classmates. The effects involved little close-ups of one actor with the sleeves billowing and the pants struggling to stay up as lyrical splatters of magic rain surrounded them. Then cut to the actress standing in the hallway with shock on her face and her hair spritzed by a water bottle. Played by Eileen, who wanted to be Leon. She was game for every aspect of my creative endeavor, but particularly enjoyed pretending to be a boy cruelly trapped in a body with boobs. She already had so much therapy delved into, and testosterone flowing through her veins. If I were to do a follow-up, she would be my perfect cast member. But I wanted to do more than just pretend that we were both happier than we actually were. If only I could find something unusual, something real, something crazy and impossible to hang our dreams on.

  And then, folklore teacher Miss Clifton, who always raised my eyebrows for reasons different than most who attended her class expected, dropped a quiet bombshell: a lake out in the wilderness with amazing stories and exuberant possibilities. I had been tricked in the past by silly little fantasy narratives of glitches in reality shifting lives, and then thinly veiled fanfiction about magic hot springs down in Chile.

  I know in my logic centers that I should've taken all that with a grain or a mountain of salt. But there was something about the instructor's demeanor and way of approaching the material that made me want to believe that it wasn't just a campfire fiction retold. I tried to speak to her after class, but she was desperately busy. All I got out of her by way of explanation was a suggestive wink and smirk. I had to find out for myself, no matter what risks that meant. I did my own exciting research, and it was enough to light a fire in me that I needed to share.

  I was close to Joel and his roommate, Barry. Really, I just wanted to recruit Barry because he seemed like a quiet, soft soul who might be up for something like this. And if he wasn't, then it would just be me, and he could enjoy a fun camping trip. Joel's normal energy urged me not to keep it a secret but instead hint at a strange and inexplicable location to explore. I hoped he would be congenial.

  The last time I summoned people for such an excursion, it was an old, abandoned insane asylum a short way from school. I did everything wrong, from accidentally turning off the mood music to irking a guy on the spectrum.

  This adventure would be better because I was also looking to recruit Alyssa Eckhart. She was Eileen's acquaintance, and we met casually. It's hard to tell about anyone or even most people, but if I had to remain this way for the rest of my days, it would've been nice to be her friend during the scope of that purgatory.

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  She was cute, and maybe that was putting too much pressure on her as like a surrogate for my soul, but I wanted to love her rather than just idolize her. She was so small, dainty, subdued, and wearing cute little windbreakers that overwhelmed her and made her cuteness even more pronounced. But I couldn't appreciate her sexually until I cauterized the gaping wound in my spirit. But what wonders would come if all this was real, from all the things I could feel?

  Joel acted like Joel throughout the trek. Definitely not the sort that would be interested in what this mystery lake revealed. He was confident in his flesh, assured in his body, and kind of cute from my imaginations of how I would feel on the other side. I had to play off the seriousness of what we were heading into, and I had to psych myself up to confront it.

  Arriving at the lake was all and everything I could've imagined. We were alone, and possibility lay stretched before us. If only I had brought a camera to turn my hopes and dreams into reality if they were dashed by my rational expectations. Maybe a little bit of cinema with my cell phone and camera trickery. Soon, I couldn't conceal the truth any longer. It felt like a fire in my brain to reveal so much burning in my neurons while my stomach complained from the other end.

  Barry was the first, unwilling test subject. I expected nothing and still struggled to believe my eyes when a blonde with long, twisting hair and bold breasts staggered her way to shore. Barry, no more. I didn't intend for anyone else to get caught up like this. Poor Barry. He was so cute, and I was so achingly jealous. It was awful to give her the bad news that, in all my research aside from Miss Clifton's snippet, this was a one-way trip.

  I watched the rest of the chaotic proceedings without the will to step in. No matter what Joel was before, Alyssa splashed him into a new reality. That should've hurt my feelings about her, but I had to admit that somewhere deep in my consciousness, I was feeling the same imaginings. See what happened to someone so far into being a boy and whether girlhood could be reshaped into his mold.

  The antagonism between the two of them wasn't unexpected, even though I hoped we could all ultimately get along on this trip. A frail hope. I stood with Alyssa without saying much to guide her. She quietly suggested that it wouldn't be long before everyone would be girls. I shivered at the notion and tried to suppress my feelings. I said a bunch of quiet little things but avoided the loud thoughts screaming in my head.

  Joel, or the girl who Joel was now, scrutinized me and had questions she was bold enough to bring to the surface. She kissed me—my first real kiss, technically. It was astonishing that Alyssa actually burst out in jealousy. Why did everyone want me like this when I didn't want to be what I was? Jess went over the side, and Joel proved that double-dipping didn't change the permanence of what this offered. If only I had accidentally tipped instead. But the moment passed, and my boldness receded again.

  I pulled away from the lake and fretted over the obvious signs we left for the authorities. I hadn't had my turn yet, and I didn't wanna be pulled away from all this possibility. That was such a passive thought. I needed to be active. I needed to seize what I wanted and never let it go. Layla, sweet Layla, despite the fact I doubted she wanted to be a boy for the rest of her life, took that plunge next. Everyone had greater boldness than me.

  And Joel… Now Roxanne had beaten me at the want to be cute girl game. She comforted Alyssa; she said all the things that needed to be said, which made her stronger. All I could still do was watch from the sidelines. But Alyssa invited me to leap into the other side. Did she know how much this meant to me? Was it so evident on my face?

  Undressing in front of her was the craziest thing I could ever imagine doing. Soon, our roles would be reversed. She would be the one sporting a stiffy, and I would have breasts and a soft shape. My little guy, whom I apologized to for never appreciating as much as I should've, even though I still despise it, was inconsolable about the moment, thinking it was up for one thing when really another fate lay inches away.

  Alyssa did what I never imagined any girl would feel inspired to do for me. It wasn't something I wanted or needed, but a little pleasure at least distracted me. She did her best, and I was a mess who couldn't control the mood. It was weird to do all that in front of the others, but we had already revealed so much in small and enormous ways. It was a clearing, a dispensation of what I had inside. No more making that. And then there were no delays left.

  I probably could've filmed this—not what she did but what the lake did to us—as I could've filmed any of the other transformations. It felt different; it felt desperately serious. This didn't deserve a mechanical eye objectively scrutinizing all of it. This was downright magical, and it deserved that respect. She held my hand, and we were about to go over—go into a destiny I could scarcely imagine. Before I could restrain myself and before I could fully process what I was doing, I was in the air with the inevitable water below me.

  Calm passed through me as I was underwater, immersed in change. It was out of my hands now, whatever I was and whoever I would be. I remembered to kick and push myself up, feeling strange legs fighting against the water. I peered beneath and noticed a strange, dark, and silvery shape looking like a plate set under the depths. That was all my brain could process with water washing over my eyes. Well, almost all, as I saw vague and blurry text spell out something I was strangely certain about.

  "Property of the company" was emblazoned in white, English script along the edge. Company? What company?

  [I again have a question at the end of the chapter to help with suggestions for where this story should go. I'm just a week ahead in my writing and I am wide open for possibilities. I especially encourage readers to suggest any character traits, tropes, and other wish list items that they might like to see for a spooky story. I also have some fun, musical, and awesome ideas for where this should go. A lot of the ending figured out but need the middle parts. Not as complicated at Yuri Worlds. The tone this time is comedic but creepy, emotional but sweet. As always, vast details, especially types of characters, character names, and more are wide open beyond the central group. Feel free to add any idea which doesn't show up in the options. Also, if you see any random typos or uncapitalized starts of sentences, please pass them along. I am currently using Quillbot to assist with speedy editing, but it’s not 100%. These early chapters are shorter but they'll get longer soon. This is a more relaxing romp after the tense stuff. Thank you for reading!]