This choice: Your girlfriend doesn't exist anymore • Go Back...Chapter #6Time is an ocean in a storm. by: Mr.Domino   You reach for the door knob and turn, but the knob stays locked tight. You tug on the door with your smaller, weaker frame, but it barely moves. You stand there, on the porch of the house that you had owned in the previous timeline and wondered what the hell was going on before you pull open the small designer purse that had appeared on your arm when you transitioned into this new timeline. After a little digging (and some swearing as your new long hair kept spilling into your vision), you pull up your keyring which is significantly smaller and has only three keys on it as opposed to the normal five that your male life had. One is thicker and obviously a car key, the other two are small and generic looking, just as your old house key had been. You subconciously bite your lip, not knowing how sexy it looks as you try both keys in the door lock.
Neither of them fit.
Panic swells in you as you hurry off the porch and look in the front window. The interior is dark, most of your vision is blocked by curtains, but you move from window to window, standing on your toes and pressing your new face against the glass as your breasts rest against the window sill. Each tiny fragment of vision reveals only a sliver of the larger picture, but you can see that you no longer live here. The furniture is different, the walls are painted a different color, the television is too large what you could have afforded on your modest budget. You stand there, in the yard you formerly owned and rack your brains, a manicured finger sliding to your new plump lips as you think of what could have gone wrong when you notice one of your former neighbors staring out her window, suspicion filling her eyes as she dials a number that you don't even have to guess at.
You take off in a hurry down the street, your new breasts thumping painfully against your smaller torso and struggling to escape the confines of the tight pink shirt and bra you had re-materialized in. When you feel you are far enough away, you stop and sit down on a nearby bench to catch your breath and dig through your purse once more to find your driver's license. You don't even notice your legs crossing themselves in a proper ladylike manner as you dig through the small, leather container, letting out a hissed 'YES!' when you pull the feminine billfold out and crack it open to reveal your driver's license.
But your elation falls short as you see how much has changed.
Name: Alexandra Walkins.
Age: Seventeen
DoB: April 22nd, 1997
Address: 607 Frontier State Drive
None of that information is correct. In the previous timeline, your name was James, you were twenty-three, you were born in November and you most certainly did not live at 607 Frontier State Drive. You were female, a minor and apparently lived across town from where you had previously lived only hours and a reality ago. Apparently interacting with your mother in the past has completely changed everything about your life, not just your gender. And then you realize that Walkins was your girlfriend's last name. And that her family had lived on Frontier State Drive until she was six when the house had burned down when her younger brother had accidentally set off a package of fireworks in the attic.
A cold dread fills you, but as you try to jump back in time to fix this mess, but you find that you cannot. You grit your teeth and tense your muscles, but all you succeed in doing is giving a couple of teenage boys across the street a good show as your new nipples become erect and poke through the flimsy material of your shirt. You try freezing time, but nothing happens. You try turning invisible, but the boys across the street are still very much tracking you with their cute brown eyes.
Wait, what?
You shake off the weird feeling and begin walking towards the address, the implications of what you've done filling your mind. You were and still considered yourself to be a bit of a science geek, at least when it came to enjoying a good science fiction film, novel or video game, so you try to piece together what may have happened.
If your life is completely changed to where your previous male self never existed, then logic dictates that you could have never fulfilled the conditions that led to you being able to be able to control time in the first place. Could you replicate the events that happened, or was the power linked to all events in your male tmeline, with the car accident being the piv...piv...
You pause, struggling to find the word that you were sure you knew. It's not, like, you had simply forgotten all the grades you'd gotten throughout high school. They were going to help you get into college!
It was that line of thought that suddenly filled your mind with a new fear, one that overrode the heavy implications that you were no longer capable of time travel, and that you may have either joined your girlfriend's family or had somehow erased one of them from existence; You HAD gone to college and HAD been finishing up your final year when the accident had happened. But you couldn't remember any of it. You could remember the years of high school, puberty and your first period (wait, no) erection and getting your first car.
It was if somehow you were, totally, integrating with this reality in both form and mind now that you were no longer able to control it. You try not to think about it as you hurry down the street that apparently housed your new home. You had never seen your girlfriend's house (even though you didn't swing that way, but you knew you totally did) since it had burned down, but it was quite immaculate. Frontier Drive had always been a prosperous part of town and it was no different now than it was in the other timeline. 607 Frontier Drive rose before you, a golden-tan neo-Colonial house that was at least three stores high (though you always remembered it being that big because you were always on the short side. But yet you had always been the tallest in class) with wide windows and a enclosed front porch that simply dwarfed your old home.
There is even the familiar, slightly crooked mailbox (that you had never seen before yet had accidentally backed into when learning how to drive) that had 'The Walkins' stenciled in bright yellow with the tiny honeybee that you had never painted on the side of the mailbox's arm when you were not nine. You shake your head viciously, sending your long blonde hair flying in all directions and your breasts shaking side to side painfully and you stamp your slightly heeled show one hard on the ground, trying to focus on your male life that, while stopping at the beginning of Senior year in High School, was still present within your mind. It was there but just...receded. The more you thought and the more you saw with your new baby blue eyes (even though you had yet to see a clear reflection of your new face), the more the female version of memories became dominant.
But there was no choice to go but forward. With a practiced grace that you had always never had, you quickly climb the low stone stairs, cross the porch where you had never first had your first kiss with a boy and open the familiar strange weight of the oak door and cross the threshold into uncharted home territory.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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