I guess I heard the screaming as well. I really don’t know why I woke up. I just know that I did—and when I groggily sat up in bed, I was instantly wide awake.
I’m not sure what I noticed first, the long red hair that seemed to be attached to my head, or the prominent boobs that sat on my chest. Slowly, in disbelief, I reached out with hands I did not recognize, and ran my fingers through the hair, softly pulling at it. I felt the pull. I decided to run the same test with the boobs, and I reached out and cupped them. One of my fingers brushed across a nipple, sending a tiny jolt through me. It surprised me, and I screamed like a little girl.
Moments later there was pounding at the bathroom door, and someone broke through.
Funny, I did think to lower my hands so I wouldn’t be caught groping myself. I didn’t think to cover myself. I guess feminine modesty is a learned trait.
The “someone” was a pretty Asian girl. She was small and slim, with short jet black hair. Actually, she was older than a girl, she was a young woman—but the pajamas she was wearing were so big on her, that I got the impression of a little girl wearing her Daddy's clothes.
We gawked at each other for a moment, and she goes “Jake?”—and the rest you know from Art’s entry. I would like to add that Art was very cool under pressure. I felt like I was very close to going right over the mental edge, but having Art around made things kind of better.
The rest of the day was spent comparing notes. I checked out CNN for a while to see if there were any reports of unusual transformations—to see if we were the only ones who woke up in the wrong bodies. I also spent several hours online, searching for anything to help us, but I didn’t find any really useful.
I spent the last few hours of the night drinking alone in my room and examining myself in the mirror. I checked to see if “the carpet matched the drapes” and I found out I am a natural redhead. Eventually I was drunken enough that I could ignore my body enough to fall asleep.
I was really hoping I wouldn’t be writing this today. After the events of yesterday, I was hoping I would wake up this morning and everything would be back to normal. That it was all a weird dream.
No such luck.
When I woke up this morning, I was afraid to move or open my eyes. I was afraid of getting any confirmation that I was still a stranger to myself…that I was still this twenty something busty redhead who has been staring back at me from the mirror.
After several moments, realized I could sense the weight of breasts on my chest, and I could feel the pulling of the long hair that was caught underneath me. I guess if something doesn’t happen soon, and we are stuck this way for a while, I’ll have to do something with my hair when I go to bed.
There were other more subtle clues as well. Two days ago I would have told you that this bed was cozy, with soft sheets. That the temperature was comfortable, and the room had no unpleasant smells. Now the bed feels hard, the sheets have a rough texture, the room cold and I can smell my pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the room. This new body senses the world differently than the old one.
I opened my eyes and looked and looked down my body. Yes, I was definately still female…and damn it, I am so hot—I’m all tits, hips and red hair. It drives me crazy.
I tried to stay in my room for a big part of the day…seeing the others just reinforced what had happened to me. But eventually life makes certain demands on you: I got hungry. I did a quick search of the Inn and all we had was beer. I found that to be ironic.
I decided to head out and grab some food for the group. Just a quick trip, grab some stuff and head back. Besides, I wanted to test someone outside the house a make sure everyone else was seeing what we were seeing. It crossed my mind that maybe we were suffering from some kind of group delusion. Maybe we all went insane at the same time—it’s no weirder a concept that a house full of guys suddenly waking up in women’s bodies.
I change into some sweat pants, a clean t-shirt and some flip flops--my goal being to look as gender neutral and inconspicuous as possible. The boobs really defeated the whole gender neutral thing.
When I get in the rent car I had to adjust all the mirrors and the seat. It was so depressing. The seatbelt was another awkward moment; the diagonal belt went uncomfortably between my boobs. Finally I was off—for about 30 seconds. It took me that long to realize why women wear ponytails. The convertible top was down and the wind blew my hair everywhere, making it hard to see. I stopped and searched the glove box, found a rubber band, and put my hair in a ponytail. I was on my way again.
I did my shopping at a convenience store. As I paid the guy behind the counter, I tried to not be nervous, and come off as a crazy person. The guy, a teenager, kept staring at me—I was pretty sure he was seeing what I was seeing. The guy stared at my chest, it creeped me out… but I needed to hear it. I need someone to tell me I wasn’t crazy.
“Excuse me, can you do me a favor?”
He stops loading the grocery bags and gives me a big smile. “Sure. What do you need?”
“Would you mind describing me? What I look like? Be as honest as you can.”
His eyebrows go up. He looks me over for a moment. “As honest as I can?”
“Please, be brutally honest.” I say.
“I see and incredibly hot redhead with a killer body, dressed in her boyfriend's clothes. That help?”
“Yes.” I say. “I’m not crazy.”
“If you say so.”
--Tired now. More later.