Chapter #5Stay in my room. I can't go out like this. by: Aurthor   In the big mirror across the room I could see the huddled image of that young girl whose towel I’d taken. She looked terrified and I didn’t blame her in the slightest. She had every right to feel that way. I’d be terrified too if I was in her place. I should know.
‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This cannot be happening!’ Was all I could think as I sat on the bed, clutching that same beach towel tightly around my body exactly the way the girl in the mirror was. Except it wasn’t my body. My body was normally a little bigger. Okay, a lot bigger. It was big and round and soft and squishy, with fat where ever you looked. This body didn’t look to have an ounce of excess fat anywhere. Well, there were two exceptions to that, I thought as I glanced down. But since those were supposed to be where they were that didn’t count. I was suddenly struck by how those two mounds now blocked the view downward almost as badly as my belly normally does.
At that thought the little irreverent part of my mind, the one that always managed to throw something stupid out no matter how serious the situation, trotted out that old joke about how I still wouldn’t be able to tell if my shoes were tied without a mirror.
That made me chuckle, except that what came out of my mouth was more of a musical giggle, which struck me as even funnier so I chuckled harder. Those too came out as giggles, which in turn caused me to giggle even harder. It was several minutes before I could get the chain reaction under control, and only after I had broken out in outright laughter. Finally, I was able to stop and catch my breath. Glancing up, I saw that the girl in the mirror looked quite a bit less terrified and more relaxed. ‘Good for you.’ I said to her. ‘You just sit there and try to stay calm while I try to figure a way out of this mess.’
As for me I got up and started pacing, a habit I had whenever I was puzzling something out. The girl in the mirror did the same, matching my steps while managing to seem awkward and ill at ease with the way her body moved. Something seemed to be wrong with the way her hips worked that wouldn’t let her stalk around the room the way I was used to doing. I left her to figure that out while I continued to pace for several minutes before turning my attention to the night stand between the twin beds where the room phone was located.
Picking it up I again dialed my brother’s number, listening to the clicks as the call was shunted between exchanges until the line finally started ringing again. As much as I needed to pace, the short cord tethering the phone to the wall between the twin beds did not allow that, although I did indulge in some simple fidgeting as I sat on the bed, listening to the burr on the handset that told me the receiver at the other end was ringing, demanding the attention my brother wasn’t giving it.
Just like before Ben once again failed to pick up so I dropped the useless implement back onto its cradle and sat for a minute, pondering the next move. Without Ben it looked like I was on my own figuring this out. Not having any other ideas I turned my attention back to the medallion.
And couldn’t find it!
It wasn’t on the nightstand beside the phone, or the table against the wall below the mirror. For a moment my heart lurched, certain I had lost the damned thing and I was going to be stuck like this forever. There was nothing on the wrinkled bedspread where I’d been sitting before I’d leapt from the bed in panic. Dropping to my knees I started to look around the floor when I felt the chain shift around my neck. The medallion was there, lodged between a breast and the towel I was still wearing wrapped around that slim torso.
Swallowing my leaping heart I slumping back against the bed with a sigh of relief, closing my eyes and offering up a quick prayer of thanks to both God, who I hoped wasn’t laughing too hard at this mess, and that subconscious part of me that seemed to be looking out for my best interests. At some point during my distracted pacing subconscious me must have looped the chain back around my neck. After my heart returned to its normal rhythm so I opened my eyes and began to examine the cause of my current situation a little more closely.
The medallion was almost as informative as my brother’s not answering. An oblong disc of maybe pewter, the image on the front could have been a stylized image of a slim woman with thin, conical breasts, a long neck, and a very pronounced posterior. Or it could be a sideways basket of fruit, depending on how the light hit the well worn ridges. Whatever it was, it was old. The back was in better condition, although the worn letters were difficult to see even after I got up and carried it over to the window. No matter how I turned the medallion in the bright sunlight the writing made no sense. The engraving was pretty, but looked more like runes you’d find on the inside of a ring of power than a proper alphabet, and without having a handy grey wizard around to read them for me none of it helped make any sense of what had happened.
Several minutes of puzzling later I gave up. “Well, that was a waste of time.” I said wryly to the girl in the mirror as I moved away from the window and stood again in front of her. The girl in the reflection seemed more at ease now that I was actually trying to figure out the situation, giving me a wry smile in return as I released the chain and felt the cool metal drop into the cleavage I now sported.
Cleavage. My eyes followed the thin chain down into the gap in the towel, taking in the view of those ripe swellings breasts I now sported. It was a view I would normally been thrilled to see. Don’t get me wrong, I love cleavage as much as the next guy, I just never expected to see it from this perspective. The worry was that I might be looking at them from this angle for a really long time.
Dwelling on the situation wasn’t going to help me fix this, I realized as I shook my head to clear it, feeling the curls of hair brush at my shoulders as I did so. It was a feeling that I’d never experienced before, having always worn my hair short, yet the tickle of hair on the bare skin didn’t seem as alien to me as it should have. Neither did the fluidic shifting of those breasts under the towel as I started to pace again, furiously trying to think of a way out of this.
  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2024 Aurthor (UN: aurthor at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Michelle has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author