Getting in Touch with Your Hexed Side

Cursed by a f*****g witch. I wouldn’t have believed it if my guts didn’t feel like they were being dragged out of my body with hot pokers. It wasn’t even my damn fault. I hadn’t wanted to go into the shop in the first place, I hadn’t wanted Joe to antagonize the old shopkeeper, and I sure as hell hadn’t wanted him to accidentally break the display. When the crone had first hexed us with the strange chant and sigils I had laughed it off, fleeing the store with my coworkers before she could call the cops. Now, I don’t think I could have forced a laugh out between my groans and sobs of agony if I’d tried. I considered myself a grown-ass man, but when it got to its worst I couldn’t do anything but curl up and cry. My girlfriend didn’t believe me, of course. Elizibeth buzzed about our apartment, shoving household remedies for food poisoning under my nose while my ailment was purely mystical. The chinese we got afterwards may have been a little suspect, but I knew better than to think even shady asian could tear my guts apart like this. “There’s nothing else to do but sleep it off,” she huffed as I drained the last of the sweetened tea. “You really should try using the bathroom.” “That’s not what it is, Lizzie,” I insisted. “Yeah yeah,” she waved her hand in front of her face. “The witch cursed you with IBS.” “You’re not going to be laughing when you wake up beside a frog.” “Even if it was, hypothetically, your chinatown witch, there’s nothing I can do about it. I don’t have a lot of spellbooks laying around.” “Okay, fair point,” I gave a sigh that turned into a groan as another surge of pain shot through my abdomen. It felt like my intestines were rearranging themselves, slithering around and finding new homes under my skin. “I’m just going to go sleep it off. Come check on me if you hear croaking.” I shouldn’t have joked. The pain only got worse. I briefly considered the hospital just for some kind of relief, but I was sure they didn’t have any spell books lying around either. Elizabeth was harder to convince, but I wasn’t coughing up blood or anything. My fault if I croaked in an entirely different way. I got some sleep; or periodically passed out, and every time I woke the pain had moved and was worse. Legs, arms, chest, face all got a turn. Disproved the IBS and confirmed my worst fears of fairytale tier cursing. Still, I wasn’t turning green, so I was going to take the little wins. Finally. Finally. I woke up and the pain was gone. This time I was sobbing in relief instead of agony. I rolled over and retrieved the phone off the bed stand, grasping a couple times as I fell short and having to lunge to pull it to my face. It was 10 in the morning and Saturday; a full two days since the unfortunate run in with the witch. My stomach was quick to attest, roaring to life at the neglect. Before I could swing myself from the bed to raid the kitchen myself, Lizzie entered with a breakfast tray. “Oh thank God,” I croaked, voice coming out so scratchy and high I couldn’t even recognize it as my own. “I’m so hungry. Bring that s**t over here.” She laughed and closed the door, but froze when she turned and saw me. Her eyes bugged out and mouth moving, apparently at a total loss for words. I must have been a mess; two days in bed sweating and no shower couldn’t have done well for a guy. “I’ll shower right after, I promise. I’ll even wash my stank off the sheets. Just bring that food over here.” She dropped the tray. I cursed, instinctively trying to lunge to catch it, but got tripped up over the blankets and my own feet and landed hard instead. I stared at the mess for a moment, mourning our deposit. Lizzie, apparently, had greater concerns. She stepped over the ruined breakfast and dropped to her knees in front of me, grabbing my face and tilting it every which way. “What’s wrong with you?” my voice still came out high and wispy and I cleared my throat a couple times. “Jason? You are still Jason, right?” “Yes?” I pulled my head back and looked at her in bafflement. “I wasn’t bodysnatched while I slept.” “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she laughed semi-hysterically and rocked back, not caring that she sat on runny eggs. “Go take a look,” she motioned towards the bathroom. I stepped around her and did as she said, heart beating faster than I thought possible. Nothing shook Lizzie. She was a rock, unbreaking against the worst of hardships we had faced. If she was acting like this, my face must have been f****d beyond imagination. I’d been cursed with warts and acne. And imbalance. I tripped over my own feet no fewer than three times in the short walk. They suddenly felt foreign and short. In fact, everything felt off. My balance was further forward, gait widened and ankles weak. Every quickly absorbed fact drove me into a further panic and made it all the harder to make it to the bathroom in my unfamiliar body. It was beyond my imagination, that’s for sure. I wasn’t sure how long I stared into the mirror, but Lizzie had time to regain her composure and follow. She stepped behind me, now standing several inches taller than me instead of a foot shorter. “I think you may have been onto something with that hex,” she laughed. It was slightly less hysterical, a stark contrast to my own brain which was about to lose its s**t. “This can’t be right,” I croaked, reaching up again to touch my face and making sure the reflection followed. Far from my manly visage, a gangly, freckled, petite schoolgirl stared back. I was a redhead tinged ginger, messy and tangled waves falling all around a heart shaped face. My eyes sang a brilliant blue, standing out against phantomly pale skin, slender nose, and thin lips. I looked nothing like myself; a total and complete transformation into a young girl. “At least you’re pretty,” Lizzie found the silver lining. “That’s the least of my concerns,” my own laugh had a hysterical edge, unrecognizable in cadence and timbre. That was my laugh now? Was there any part of me that hadn’t changed? Would my brain morph until I forgot myself? “Okay, deep breaths,” Lizzie turned me away from the mirror and pulled in several large example gasps before I hyperventilated. “Let’s get dressed and we’ll think through this logically.” “Get dressed in what? I very much doubt my belt has enough notches to keep my jeans up.” “Okay,” she closed her eyes and centered herself. I again envied her ability to shut down her emotions and do what needed to be done. Maybe her yoga had something to it. “See if you can find something of mine that’ll stay on. I think I have some smaller stuff in the bottom drawer that hasn’t fit in a while. I’m going to go shopping.” “Is this really the best time for retail therapy?” I laughed. I didn’t bother pointing out that even her small clothes weren’t going to fit me. Lizzie may be on the small side, but she had curves my new body was lacking. “I’m going to the thrift shop to find something that’ll fit you for now. Get something to eat and avoid mirrors. You’re not allowed to break down yet.” “Oh, well in that case,” I laughed bitterly. I was laughing way more than I should have been. Was that hysteria or just a part of what I was now. Was I going to be one of those socially awkward laughers? “Enough,” she gripped my shoulders and dragged me out of the bathroom, firmly shutting the door and containing the biggest mirror in the apartment. “You’re still you, so you have to get yourself together and act like an adult for me. I’m your girlfriend, not your mother.” “Right, you’ve told me how much you like a strong, independent man. Okay,” I copied her breathing, trying to calm my racing heart. She was right. My brain was still my own so far and worrying about a second wave of transformations wasn’t going to help anything; I had to take care of what was going on right now before I started dreaming up new fires. Lizzie left me alone, but before eating, I focused on cleaning what I could from the spilled tray. I put down towels to soak up what I could before it had a chance to stain, but we didn’t have the supplies to really get it up right now. We were definitely out a couple hundred from the deposit.  At first I ignored Lizzie’s clothing suggestion, but the more I crouched and moved the more self-conscious I got of my body. It may have been mine, but it wasn’t mine and every movement was a stark reminder of that. I tripped over too short legs and misjudged the stretch and strength of my new arms, nearly dropping the tray when I tried to pick it up one handed. Worst, though, was crouching and there being nothing between my legs. I wasn’t p***s obsessed or anything, but the feeling of having nothing there was a startling shock.  I needed to cover up, but there wasn’t anything that would really fit. The best I could do was pull was the old girlfriend standard on myself and drag one of my shirts over my head. I was worried for a moment my shoulders were going to slip through the neck hole, but, although it kept slipping down and showing one of them, the shirt as a whole stayed. In fact, it covered me all the way down to my knees. Maybe it didn’t matter in the privacy of my own apartment, but it made me feel a hell of a lot better. Naked and afraid wasn’t vogue. I then had the unfortunate need to go back into the bathroom. I pointedly ignored my reflection and pretended I was just going about my business the same as always. As far as new experiences, this one wasn’t painful, at least. Just like going to the bathroom sitting down before, but without the extra equipment to manage. No wonder women had no issues playing on their phones. Preparing and eating something as simple as a bowl of cereal was a lot harder than it had any right to be. I could barely reach the bowls in the lower cabinet and I had to jump to grab a hold on the cereal box, nearly tipping it over on the way down to my waiting arms. Eating, also, had been complicated. I had to climb onto the tall kitchen chairs, feet barely touching the ground even as I sat on the edge. Every swinging bite was suffering until I figured out I could curl my legs back and get leverage on the chair’s cross support. At least then I could hold myself in place as I moved the spoon to and from my mouth. I was almost done when the door opened and Lizzie slipped in, but before she could shut it, another form blocked the entryway. It took me a moment to recognize Ollie, our next door neighbor, in all his greasy, nerdy glory. I’d seen the man a couple times, but never really talked to him. I couldn’t begin to fathom why Lizzie would be chatting him up this morning. He froze upon spotting me. In fact, everyone froze, both the others’ gazes locked on me to see how I would react. I double checked that my knees were together and pulled the shirt down, making sure everything was covered while I fumbled for a proper response. I wouldn’t have given Ollie a show when I’d been hairy and endowed and I sure as hell wasn’t about to do it now. “Uh, hi,” I cleared my throat and my voice came out suitably nervous for the f****d up situation.  “Who is this?” Ollie regained some measure of composure and gave his focus back to Lizzie, smiling in a way he no doubt thought was endearing. It might have been if he wasn’t basically forcing his way into our apartment. “This is my little sister, Talia.” I recognized the name as a cousin she hadn’t seen in a decade, but I could roll with it. “As you can see, Ollie, this is a bad time,” she continued, pinning the neighbor with a lethal stare.  “Of course,” he coughed, backing out of the doorway. “You’ll think about Saturday?” “Sure, Ollie. Bye, Ollie,” she slammed the door and let out a deep sigh. “What was that?” I laughed, breathing easier now that he was gone. “I told you he’s been hitting on me forever.” “Brave man inviting you on a date with a sister in the room who could go and tattle to your boyfriend.” “Sorry,” she mistook my humor for agitation. “It was the only thing I could think of. We can go with a different name if you want, though I’d be happy to call you Tails.” “Didn’t you only call that because she wore pigtails?” I shook my head, smiling. “Hey, you might look good in them. May as well get in touch with your feminine side while you’re living it.” You’re taking this a lot better than I am,” I laughed again, the sound slipping out as giggles I could have never imagined making. I slapped my hands over my mouth, setting off a wave of laughter from Lizzie. For a moment we just laughed together, shedding some of the overwhelming tension. “Okay, let’s get you dressed,” she passed me and carried on into the bedroom. I hopped from the seat and followed. She threw the bags on the bed, digging through them and tossing various garments into different piles. “I think I’m capable of dressing myself,” standing in the doorway with crossed arms. “Whatever bodily regression this is didn’t affect my mind.” “You have no idea how women’s clothes are supposed to fit,” she scoffed. “You may be able to be comfortable in men’s clothes that look one good shake from dropping off, but you won’t be able to pull it off as a lady.” “Hey, I may have been hexed into a new body, but I’m far from a ‘lady’.” “Just entertain me.” I shrugged. If going control freak would make her feel better I’d let her. “Then what?” “If the woman put a hex on you she can take it off. We’ll go back to that shop, you’ll get on your knees and beg, and we’ll pay whatever it takes to get you back to being yourself.” “I’m not looking forward to going through that pain again,” I winced, the memories of agony still fresh. “Are you telling me you’d rather stay like this?” she tossed me underwear and motioned for me to slip them up. “Of course not,” I sighed when she motioned for me to take the shirt off. “It’s a pair of briefs, woman; either they fit or they don’t.”  “They’re called boyshorts,” she ignored me, slipping a finger into the waistband and nodding in satisfaction before tossing me some more women’s undergarments. “I have to say,” she laughed a moment later as I snapped the third bra on, settling a modest bosom into cups clearly a size too big. “You’re pretty good at putting these things on. Is there something you need to tell me? A hidden habit perhaps?” “Not a bad deduction, Watson, but the real reason is only because you’ve given me so much practice in taking them off.” She didn’t have much to say to that. We went full on thrift store chic, burning through the stacks of clothing at a pace to make a theater major proud. I ended up with a modest stack of clothing, taking up a cleared out shelf in the closet and the rest went back into the bags to be returned at a later date. “One last thing,” I stopped her as she finished packing up the last of the non-fitting clothing. “Can you do something about this?” I flipped my head back and forth, the new long strands slapping me in the face. “I would love to,” she grinned and I knew I’d made a mistake. Fifteen minutes later I was living up to my namesake. “If anyone had ever told me I’d one day being wearing braided pigtails I would have accused them of being on their sixth pint.” “If it helps I’d say it suits you. I can teach you how to do it yourself later.” “Hopefully ‘later’ I’ll be in massive pain on my way back to becoming normal.” I grabbed my keys and billfold on the way through the living room, stopping when she caught up to me and fisted my shirt from behind. “You’re not driving like that,” she laughed. “Fair point,” I flipped open the billfold and held my license up to my face. “What do you think, officer? I swear it’s real.” “I think we need to hurry to get to that shop before closing. You remember the address?” “I remember how to get there.” “Eh, good enough.” I hadn’t thought something so universal as riding in a car could be a new experience, but it was. I could barely see over the dash, having to boost myself up a couple times to read the street signs. The seatbelt was also a new difficulty I wasn’t used to having to deal with. Not only did it cut into my neck instead of resting on my shoulder, but the strap couldn’t help but rest in the middle of my new boobs. It created a semi-obscene sight that bothered the hell out of me, but Lizzie assured me it was perfectly normal. Not that she was having that issue despite being much more well endowed. She wouldn’t tell me her secret. It took the better part of fifteen minutes to navigate to our own small city’s version of chinatown. There was virtually no parking on the streets in the area, so we settled for a spot a ways away and walked. I hadn’t thought I’d stand out among the crowd, but the number of eyes I was drawing was unnerving. There was no way they could tell or anything, surely? Oh, God, what if I only appeared as a girl to Lizzie and I was actually a grown-ass man parading through the streets in too small women’s clothing? “Why are they staring?” I hissed. My supremely logical girlfriend would have an answer. “Because you’re cute. Enjoy it.” I sputtered at the simple way she said it. I wasn’t a supermodel or anything. Sure, the witch hadn’t turned me into a hag, but attractive enough to draw attention just from walking down a sidewalk? I doubted it. Still, Lizzie had spoken and it wouldn’t accomplish anything to keep questioning. We got to the building and all I could do was stare in shock. Then it was nothing but a string of curses that had passerbys glancing in shock. Yeah, I wasn’t hitting ‘lady’ status anytime soon. We had arrived at an unoccupied lot.