Saturday, September 10, 2022

Battle Vixens! - 109




Episode 109: On Deck

Magus would think back on this moment later, imagine that there were a lot of smarter things to do than let go of the sword, close her eyes, scream and flail around in the air. Like: She should've just cast a featherfall spell or something. She should've done some kind of acrobatic maneuver that would make her more likely to roll along the ground and survive the fall with less injuries. But, in the moment itself, it wasn't really possible to do anything approaching thinking. Her thoughts at the time were just the ineffable emotion of sheer terror, but if anything could be put into words, those words were probably just I'm gonna die!

She was able to regret her poor decisions, however, because she did not actually die. Instead, someone came running in the direction she'd been flung, made a flying leap into the air to grab her into their arms, and then fell still holding her in a sharp downward arc to a particularly rough landing. Her rescuer's feet hit the ground with enough force to shake her, and then their arms (with the awkward way they'd caught her) weren't wrapped tightly enough to keep her from being tumbled out of them by this jolt and onto the ground in a brief sideways roll. Overall, it hurt, but she was basically fine, even able to slowly sit up groaning.

Remedy was standing over her by that point, holding a metallic arm out to gently place on her forehead. "Hold still a sec!" She recognized the voice from the point of their initial landing as the recently-introduced Karis, but didn't turn her head that way to confirm in an effort to follow the advice. The metal forming (or maybe covering?) Remedy's hand was cold, but a soothing sensation emanated out from the point of contact, vanishing off the worst of the pain from the awkward landing.
"Holy..Magus, you've gotta pull out, kid!" Karis came up closer at this point, and with her Stand pulling her arm back, Magus felt free enough to turn her head to face her.
"Uh, what do you mean?"
"You're completely exhausted is what I mean! Stop pushing yourself and get out of this fight before you break something I can't fix!" she said, pointing emphatically in the opposite direction from the giant monster they were fighting. Actually, they were fairly far away from it already thanks to the trajectory of Magus's recent involuntary flight.

Remedy offered her a hand—the non-metallic one—and Magus took it to slowly stand up, trying to object. "But I.."
"No buts! You can't even lift your wand-sword-thing, right? You've fought super hard today, and I get that, but if you keep acting like you're fine you're gonna collapse at the worst time for everyone! Got it?"
"I cah..." She was cut off by a sudden need to gasp in a deep breath. As the air came in, she started to come down out of a massive burst of adrenaline and actually feel things again: Despite the recent healing, her body was thoroughly sore, every muscle worn to near its breaking point. There were some tears staining her cheeks, and a few still coming down. She was shaking. "Aaaauuugh..y-yeah, you're right. Sorry..thanks for saving me."
"Not a problem!" Karis gave her a thumbs up. "Get some rest and you can fight again tomorrow." She turned back toward the hecatoncheires, Remedy already running ahead of her in that direction.

Magus took another slow, slightly jagged, deep breath and started walking, against some moderate objections from her legs. If they kept that thing pinned the way they had been so far, then maybe the restaurant everyone had eaten at would be a good place to take shelter. Maybe she could even watch the rest of the fight from a seat inside. That wasn't too far to walk...



Steel wire rose up, gripping the legs of a charging beast. Another one tripped, and wire twisted up around its midsection to keep it in place. A third made to run by the first, when the wire holding that one's legs struck out to grab just one of the free one's limbs and it came scraping along the ground to a halt.

"Last one, and I'm outta traps!"
"'Kay!" Ning raised her sword, firing a spark into the sky from its tip and bringing it down as lightning once, twice, three times. Over the noise of the thunder, she shouted: "You want me to keep 'em busy so you can set more, or change tack?"
"I'll start bindin' em myself. We're near done here anyway." The three of them were looking fairly indistinct, and with her lightning strikes hitting it first and hardest, the one with its midsection bound screamed pitifully and fell apart.
"Got it!"

The other two broke free and came after her, sweeping their legs down to try and hit her; she jumped and flipped away from them. Sam's knife struck one of them in the eye, then was pulled out again by some wire wrapped around its hilt trailing back to its owner. Its voice rumbled out angrily as it turned to charge at her, and she tossed the wire sideways to twist itself quickly around its legs as it ran at her. Ning threw her sword at the head of the monster still attacking her and ran to clap her hands across the flat of the knife's blade, holding on to it to pull the wire taut and bind the thing into place while running some electricity through her hands and into it.
Letting go of the other end of that line, Sam ran to intercept the other one as it charged for Ning, forming some wire to throw up and to one side to grab it around the throat and then yanking it in her direction as hard as she could, sending it tumbling over onto its side and sliding a long way forward across the ground.



Clark could feel her wife's power flowing into her, an immense strength entering her body. Her ears picked up the sound of Magus falling and Karis catching her; she was worried about that, but couldn't drop her focus now. Between herself and two puppets, she was busy weaving a long rope of blue string together, the needle at one end of it and her own hands at the other. Petra had caught on to what she was trying to do and put some unusually solid walls in the way of the hands that had tried to interrupt her work at the price of having to give up several more steps to it herself. And now Clark was ready.

She raised her hand—the one not busy controlling puppets—and directed the needle forward. It wove the rope up over the monster's many left arms, next to its head, and down again. The rope then wound itself down below those arms, arced up again, and repeated, winding itself around half of the thing's limbs before twisting up to go around behind its neck and repeat the process, pulling the other half of its hands into a tangle with it. Naturally, the hecatoncheires resisted this, thrashing around and trying to break itself out of the bindings, but the carefully-wound string refused to snap, and with the full benefit of Rory's strength, Clark was able to keep a grip on her end of the rope.

The needle came back to her, and she grabbed it and the rope in both hands, letting her puppets collapse onto the ground motionless in order to focus all of her effort on holding it taut. "Rrrrgh..."
"Yeah, yeah, that's it!" Petra cheered, backing away as the gargantuan monster began to topple forward. She raised the ground under its feet and lowered what it was falling toward, taking the opportunity to give the ground an unpleasant, spiky shape for it to land onto as she went. "Come on, big guy! Not so tough without all those arms, are ya!?"
It simultaneously screamed and roared back while it collapsed forward. "Taunting..not...helping!" Dr. Quinn grunted. At least Zeno was arcing some arrows into its face from one side. Karis and her Stand had come up to a little bit behind Clark; she seemed at a loss for how to be useful in this situation, which was understandable.

"Oh, yeah? Maybe this will help, then!" Standing a few meters away from the head of the giant now lying face-forward on the ground and thrashing violently, Petra raised a pair of giant rocky fists from the rubble all around her and used them to punch its multitude of faces again and again and again—until Clark's ropes finally began to give way and snap apart. She noticed this, and quickly rolled the broken earth around and under it up into arches around and atop its body, pushing down from their tops to try to keep it pinned that bit longer. She also started backing away again, recognizing that no matter how much effort the two of them put into keeping it down, it'd get up eventually anyway.



Cynthia ran for the spot Rowan had indicated, throwing a few small sparks of fire at the two monsters who'd just revived themselves up off of the ground to get their attention on her. Both of the quintuplets in front of Rowan recovered and started trying a coordinated attack on her; she moved smoothly around them, placing them between herself and Cynthia, and began to push them back with some calculated strikes in between maneuvering out of their attacks. Fay swatted at her opponent a few times with her staff, the last strike a particularly strong one that knocked it over onto its side—also in the redheaded vixen's direction.

The effort to get the two monsters' attention went a little too well, both of them sweeping out to flank Cynthia from either side. She raised her sword and took a few careful steps back, watching for one or the other of them to strike. Fay ran up and blindsided one of them with a hard strike to its side, knocking it over, just when they had both raised their hands to try a simultaneous attack. With that one down, Cynthia had no difficulty moving out of the way of the other one's slashes, keeping her distance and catching anything that came too close with her own sword—letting the monster's weapon clash against it and lose all momentum, then dropping the sword out of the way and resummoning it into a better position to handle the next strike.

The one Fay had knocked over a moment ago got up and chased after her, and she entertained it for a moment, blocking its strikes while baiting it to stick close to Cynthia's position. By now Rowan had pushed her two opponents into the same close range with the redhead, and she took an opening to slash one through, stab the other and kick it down, then slam the flat of her blade into the front of the first one while it was still reeling from the slash.

All five quintuplets were within a radius of just a few yards from Cynthia. Fay darted away, quickly getting herself far away from that radius, and called behind her: "Do it now!" Rowan was already out of range and taking several rapid steps backwards just in case.
Cynthia let go of her weapon and raised her hands, sparks in her palms erupting into streams of fire that flowed out into a towering, whirling inferno, like a miniature hurricane made of fire. "Burn! Burn away! Die and never come back!" Her angry shouting seemed to egg the fire on, making it burn hotter and whirl faster, and by the time it suddenly swept back in toward her, seeming to pull itself directly into her body, the five-bodied monster was already completely gone.

She felt briefly winded from the effort of doing this, and bent forward with her hands on her knees, panting heavily for a second or so. Rowan came close and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you fit enough to keep fighting?"
"Hff..yeah. Heck yeah!" She brought herself upright. "Let's go take down one more a' those things!"
"That's the spirit," Fay remarked, starting off toward Rowan's car.



The gargantuan humanoid beast pushed itself upright as it snapped the last of Clark's bonds, and then it fired all of its arms out at once yet again. With Magus out of the fight, there was one less target for it to concentrate on, forcing everyone still present to do quite a bit of running and dodging around. It hit all of Clark's still-surviving puppets in one way or another—stabbing one, picking one up and tossing it back into its mouth, biting another with a snake-head-hand. Remedy got cut nearly in two near the end of the barrage, and one of Clark's dodges put her in a poor position, leading to a hand knocking her hard in the side and sending her flying briefly through the air. She thought quickly, summoning a puppet about where she was headed just so it could break her fall, and then quickly hopped back onto her feet, dusting herself off.

"You seem uh, a lot less injured than expected," Karis remarked, hurrying to Dr. Quinn and bringing Remedy back out with a noticeable but not intolerable amount of effort.
"Borrowing Rory's power," Clark said. "Pumped it all to defense once I was in the air. Don't worry about me—check on Zeno."
"Sure...uh, wait—" She glanced back and forth. "Zeno! Where'd you go?"
"Present—"
"GAAH!"

The bow-wielding vixen's voice had come from about two feet behind Karis, a thoroughly unexpected position, making both her and her Stand jump briefly.
"Sorry 'bout that. Had some help." Zeno gestured to one side, where Warp was now standing.
She waved. "Oi, just arrived. Any of you feel a tug, let me help you out, right?"
"Got it!" Petra yelled back. "Keep me on the ground if you do. Where's the rest of your party?" Warp gestured off to the left, where Hugo and Tora were running up.

Nico was walking at a slower pace behind them, tossing some seeds into the already-tilled ground. "Someday," she remarked wistfully, "our wallets will feel the pain from all this rampant destruction of infrastructure."
"Joke's on you lot, I got nothin' to pay taxes with," Warp replied.
"Heads up!" Karis yelled, gesturing—the hecatoncheires was striking its hands out again.

Hugo turned and raised her shield; Nico letting herself be warped just behind the shield maiden to grab her in a hug from behind. Hugo had to jump or move aside once or twice, but had no difficulty doing so even with a ride-along. Tora easily did some acrobatics to dodge around the arms striking out her way, and Zeno did her best imitation of the same with the occasional light-shield. Warp waited with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently, for an arm to get close, then teleported just to one side of its strike. She ultimately repeated this process some ten or eleven times before the assault was over. Petra focused on blocking the attacks aimed at Clark and herself, affording the former another opportunity to make puppets and weave more rope.

"How exactly do we hurt somethin' that big?" Tora said. "I mean, I could try an' claw these hands, but—nope, they're gone again." She'd taken half a step toward the nearest hand, its spearlike end stabbed into the ground, before it abruptly retracted away.
"Head's a weak point, but don't wanna get too close to that either," said Zeno. "More targets dodging seems to be a helpful distraction for the rest of us. Just throw your claws when you've got a clear shot." Hugo, meanwhile, had already started with her usual sort of attack, grabbing onto the beast's loud cries and reflecting them back in at its head, concentrated and amplified into sonic impacts. Nico had hopped off her back once it was safe and waved at Warp to teleport her to the opposite side of the beast so she could lay down some more trees, focusing primarily on buffing everyone's agility and resilience.

"Oi, where's the hat girl?" Warp asked.
"Restaurant behind us," Karis replied. "Not injured, but—overextended. Can't fight any more for today."
"Long as she in't dead, anyway," she nodded.

Clark focused on weaving her rope, fanning a few puppets out to either side with finished segments of it on their hands. When the hecatoncheires struck again, they all tossed the rope into the air at once, and it whipped upward, quickly twisting itself through the air to catch the monster's outstretched arms and tangle around and between them. Most of the puppets sacrificed themselves in this maneuver, and Clark herself had to move around carefully, relying on Zeno and Petra placing some shields to block for her, in order to stay grounded and pull the ropes taut without getting hit by any of the hands. When it tried to pull its hands back this time, she pulled against it, grunting with the effort of keeping its multitude of limbs bound and outstretched for that little bit longer. The free ends of its limbs flailed violently, making it too dangerous for anyone to get near them—but it was subdued enough for everyone else to make some ranged assaults.

Eventually the monster snapped her ropes apart once again, and Clark staggered forward slightly from the force of it all, bending forward and panting heavily for a moment. "You okay there, doc?" Karis said, keeping an eye ahead with Remedy while giving Clark a concerned look.
"Hfff...holding together, but..haahh...even while using Rory's power, I don't think I have quite the same stamina," she said, and slowly straightened up. "Don't know that I can pull that trick a third time."
"Hey, no need to push yourself too hard," Petra said from the front. "We got this, and more help's on the way!"



Emma quickly capitalized on the Shiva's prone position, twisting thorned shadows up around its limbs with Minus while Plus called down a few strikes of lighting from the air above it. It broke its way up through its bonds and roared, swiping its limbs violently around in a whirl of blades that connected with nothing. Minus tossed some spores up in the air, Plus carried them to its body on a brief gust of wind, and then she co-opted them as her 'weapon' to make a group of miniature point-explosions centered on them, hitting it all across its body as they landed on it.

The monster was starting to look indistinct, but it was also positively enraged. Still swinging its blades around like a gigantic food processor, it began charging blindly in a direction—unfortunately, that direction led toward Rory and the building she was standing in front of. "You strong enough to block that?" Light asked.
Dr. Quinn shrugged. "Probably—unless it knocks me away with a sword."
She sighed, lightspeeding to behind it and drawing two of her blade to drive halfway into the back of its head and slash out to either side. It shuddered violently, twisting around and trying to hack up whatever its most recent source of pain was, but she'd already moved herself well away from it.

Emma sent some fireballs, knives, and small bolts of electricity into the Shiva's side as it resumed its blind charge in this new direction, and Rory ran up behind it, vaulting into the air and punching it square in the center of its back to knock it tumbling forward onto the road. It convulsed, readying to push itself upright again, but another concentrated laser and two or three lightning strikes from above were too much for it, and it began to dissipate for good.



One slow step after another, the giant monster continued its advance against all of Petra's best efforts to stall it. Now Clark couldn't delay it any longer by binding it, and mostly focused on giving it puppets to attack instead of her fellow vixens. It didn't even look all that injured, its body seeming just as solid as it had been when it first landed. Karis's impression was that all of the "boss-level" mist monsters were like this, their bodies lasting far longer than any welcome one might imagine them to have. The problem was that it was starting to back them all up against a wall—and while destroying that wall was technically an option with nearly everyone evacauted by now, it wasn't a very good one. She thought Magus might've even gone in there, and she was in maybe not the best condition to flee a collapsing building.

Zeno noticed this issue, too. "Petra, it's getting too close to the buildings! We've gotta circle!"
"Uh—not much to circle onto—everything's collapsed," Petra pointed out.
"Then make more ground, stupid!" Karis answered.
"Little busy, but—okay, fine!" She started shifting the ground behind the monster, pushing it closer to their position and shoring up the broken land to its left and right into something a little more standable. "Listen up—next strike, we scatter. Nico, Clark, Karis—head right. I'll go left with Hugo and Tora...and uh—Warp, you do whatever!"
"Always have." She tossed her knife in the air, caught it, then threw it forward, teleporting it from right in front of her to an inch away from one of the beast's eyes, landing the blade square into it.

The hecatoncheires roared/screeched again as it flung its arms out, and everyone moved. Petra rolled the ground along beneath her as she ran, achieving a far greater speed than she could with running alone—enough to dodge the arms slamming down at her and outrun a couple that tried to catch her from the sides or behind. Warp focused on keeping herself and Nico out of harm's way, and everyone else dodged and/or blocked the way they usually did while making their way to either side. Once the assault was over, Petra stopped, leaning down and slamming her hands onto the ground to lift a bunch of loose rocks and concrete up all around the beast before moving to a kneeling position, raising her arms and making a tossing-forward motion to send it all inward in a barrage.

It occurred to Karis at this point that her husband was probably running low on energy. Out of all of the vixens, Petra was the only one she knew who was seemingly never tired. She'd fought the "Cynthia puppet" to a practical standstill and still not seemed so much as winded—only a little bit singed. But..she'd had a particularly rough day today. The earthquake and stone fist business when she'd found Karis injured had probably taken more out of her than usual, and now she'd been doing a majority of the heavy lifting to stall their present gargantuan opponent. She seemed to replenish herself by staying rooted on the ground, and now appeared to feel the need to get a little lower onto it, like the usual amount just wasn't enough anymore. She didn't seem to be out of breath quite yet, but Karis was concerned that it might not be much longer before she just ran herself dry and collapsed. After all, it was just like Simon to feverishly overwork himself, all the while denying that anything was wrong...

She'd more or less put Remedy on autopilot ('dodge please') while she was busy getting away from the swinging, swiping, biting hands herself, and her Stand had been lucky enough to survive this particular assult, winding up over on the opposite side in the process. It seemed like a good idea to at least check on Petra's actual condition, find out how much longer they needed to hold out or at least how soon her husband needed to be carried away from the danger zone. Remedy came up and placed a metallic hand on the earth vixen's shoulder, feeling for vitals.

There was some exhaustion showing, but it wasn't nearly as bad as Magus had been for sure. Petra turned her head briefly to confirm the source of something solid and cold on her shoulder and saw the Stand. "Oh, hey—don't worry about me." She made a point to pull herself back to her feet, one leg at a time. "I'm invincible, remember?"
Remedy gave her back an annoyed look. "Don't kid yourself," Karis said—not too loudly, but fox ears would hear it anyway. "You totally need some help right now."
Facing toward the monster again, getting ready for it to strike, Petra was saying: "Well, it'd be nice if our boss would show up—wha—?"

Remedy's metal hand was still on Petra's shoulder, and she'd placed the other one—the 'human' one—on the other shoulder, while Karis was talking. She didn't really think about why Remedy was doing this—or whether she was telling her Stand to do this. The thing that startled both her and Petra was that, at this point, Remedy's body suddenly seemed to turn incorporeal, shifting into a sort of translucent red-and-white fire, and rush into Petra.
The glow that Remedy had seemingly turned into persisted around Petra, giving her a sensation of relief and empowerment. Karis's power, such as it was, was temporarily at the other vixen's disposal. Karis knew this because she was now getting similar feedback from Petra to what she usually 'felt' from Remedy, only without the ability to send commands back. Well, she could command her Stand to pull herself back out of Petra, but she didn't really want to issue that one right now.

"Uhh, apparently I can do that?" It was true that Karis had wanted to in some way help her husband keep going—but she'd less "had an idea and acted on it" and more "stumbled into another unexpected aspect of her power". A little like when she'd found out Remedy could continue to exist when she was in human form, but also profoundly different.
"Feels great—keep it up!" Petra drew Remedy's weapon and then let go of it, raising it into the air as though it was some regular earth and having it toss itself into the monster's face. The hecatoncheires attacked again at this point, its body slowly turning in her direction, and she was able to go back to stalling its movements and blocking its strikes with walls of raised ground just like before.

While Karis tried to focus on dodging several more hands on her side, she could feel a 'pull' from Petra's/Remedy's direction. It was a request for the energy to keep flowing, seemingly not something her husband was consciously doing but rather a result of her trying to use the power she was feeling right now the same way she usually did her own. She didn't resist the pull, and felt Petra's efforts taxing her, too. She felt suddenly out of breath at one point and stumbled to a halt just in time to be swiped in the side by a spear-hand's shaft, knocking her over.

"Gah—owwwh..!" She tumbled briefly before stopping, then sat up rubbing the hurt spot. Clark rushed up to her with her own healing bulb.
"Hold still."
"Sure...haffh...that hurt way less than it should've, now that I think of it."
"You aren't badly injured," Dr. Quinn nodded, "just some minor bruising. You probably have some degree of 'damage resistance' in your powerset."
"That's good to know..hffh. Hey, don't take so much at once!" she shouted at Petra.
"Sorry, sorry!"

Clark gave her a hand to help her up. Through Petra's perception, Karis saw that their target was getting ready to throw its hands out yet again—but it was stopped. Suddenly a bunch of giant tentacles of water reached up from below, grabbing the thing's arms and legs and holding it still. Rowan was standing there to the right of the beast—Karis's right, what would've been behind it originally—holding out both of her hands to maintain the watery limbs. A certain redheaded vixen was walking up behind her.

"Yooo, boss!" Karis could almost physically feel her husband's relief.
"Petra, you need to be more careful about collateral damage," Rowan said, speaking like she was talking to someone in a calm, quiet office environment. One of the tentacles reformed its end into a dragon head, twisting up a little farther to bite the hecatoncheires in the neck. "You hit a sewer main."
"I hit a sewer main? I hit a sewer main?! Uh-uh—that thing hit the sewer main, not me!" she said, pointing. "Hey Phoenix, go for the head!"
"I suspect she means you," Rowan said to Cynthia.
"Caught that." The redheaded vixen had already been busy pulling a fireball together over a hand, and now that she had a target, she sent it flying, landing it dead center and expanding it out into an explosion which engulfed the monster's entire head-made-of-heads.

"I cannot hold this forever, people," Rowan calmly clarified, cueing everyone else to start throwing whatever they had at the monster.
"Hey, Karis—she does need it more than me!" Petra suggested. Knowing how her husband thought, she was already preparing to pull Remedy out and send her over Rowan's way. Petra focused on picking up some more rocks and throwing it out at the thing; Cynthia continued hitting its head and hands with more fire, keeping a bit of distance between her flames and the water binding it in place.

"Remedy can be a mana battery," Karis explained. "Just—she'll put her hands on your shoulders first."
"Understood." Rowan didn't flinch while the Stand grabbed onto her shoulders and then entered her, but breathed the slightest sigh of relief at the rush of power—something nobody but Karis caught, and she only did because of the 'shared perception' thing.

Since she didn't need to dodge anything for the moment, Karis carefully sat down and then lay back on the concrete, giving Rowan as much power as she asked for. The demand wasn't too much at first and didn't grow, but keeping it pumping into her seemed to get more tiring the longer it went on, like holding a relatively light weight up in one's hand for a long period of time. Everyone was continuing their all-out assault on the giant monster, however, and its cries began to sound increasingly desperate. Tilting her head up a little, Karis could see its body starting to lose some distinction as it thrashed around in its bindings. Not long ago, it had seemed positively invincible—like a diamond wall they'd been barely chipping away at. But maybe it wasn't as tough as it had seemed to be.

Karis could feel herself coming to a point where she instinctively wanted to pull Remedy out, like her own body (or something) was warning her that she was approaching a breaking point. But before that point actually arrived, she heard one last roar from the hecatoncheires, and then it collapsed and fell apart, the black mist forming its body briefly blocking out the sun as it blew away in the wind. The demand for power from Rowan immediately vanished, and she simply dismissed Remedy and remained lying down on the concrete for a moment, feeling distinctly winded but, thankfully, not completely exhausted.



Ever since the incident with the giant worm, Emma made a point to keep her phone very close by while fighting things in vixen form. In this case, Plus had it when it started ringing, and she pulled it out quickly to look, finding that someone was contacting her through the VI app. "Uh—hey. Ning?"
"Gem! You still with Light and Dr. Quinn?"
"Y-yeah?" Ning's voice sounded urgent—but like someone who had important news, not someone in imminent danger.
"Don't split up or untransform—we've got trouble!" By now, the other three vixens present were looking her way, their ears easily picking up on the conversation.

"A town out west of here had one of their vixens get swallowed by a giant bird thing, and then it just took off into the air and started flying. Then Clark and Rowan got messages from the Giver with just a screenshot from a video of that thing taking off, and a set of coordinates." Come to think of it, there was an echoeyness to her voice that struck Emma as probably being someone using a car's speakerphone to talk, and engine noises in the background too.
"That location's exactly where you are," Sam's voice came through. "The one who got eaten has some sorta vacuum blade powers, and it's somehow usin' that to help it fly at supersonic speeds. Prolly be there in a few more minutes."
"We're on our way to help!" Ning added. "No trouble with the monsters on our end; I guess yours is already down?"
"Mm-hmn..."
"Rowan said Light can use her power if you need it," Sam said. "They've just finished up on that end, too." They hung up.

"Welp. You heard the lady," Rory said. "I got my full power back a minute ago, and I'm sure my husband won't mind sharing his while we're at it."
Plus nodded. "But what do we do to keep it from flying too fast to—" "—wait. What if..—" "—Light?"
"You think 'conversion' would help?"
"M-maybe?—" "—worth a shot?"
"Okay," Light nodded.



Phew...Didn't mean to leave Magus hanging in midair for quite this long, but real life got in the way, and this episode was a beast to write. I originally thought I might have just one episode titled "All Hands on Deck", but it quickly became obvious that it was going to be way too long and the events being covered required two separate episodes. So, "All Hands" involves multiple monsters that have lots of hands, and "On Deck" features numerous instances of people and/or monsters "hitting the deck", as in falling/lying prone, for one reason or another. Even with the split, this episode is pretty long. I imagine, in comic form, the end of the previous episode would have Magus flying off to the right, and then the title page for this episode would show her coming in from the left with Karis and Remedy running along below her to catch her.

Someone predicted in a comment, back when Prism was introduced, that her powerset would be useful against a Nightmare. Actually, that was less a prediction and more a partial inspiration for what's going to come next. So, thank you!

Friday, September 2, 2022

Changing Island: Entry 12




Entry 12

I suppose it's time to talk about myself. This is...a little embarrassing to type up, to be honest, but I'm committed to making as complete and accurate a record as I can. I've been taking notes from the first time I noticed anything was different until it was over; I've been trying to mentally prepare myself to compose this practically since the first interview I took. I want to note not just what physically happened to me, but also...what I feel has happened to my mind.

Now, you shouldn't worry; I don't think it's like this island hypnotizes people or anything. It's just that I've noticed consciously, and can easily see from the tone of my own writing in the earlier entries, that my opinion of things definitely has changed. I think it's a combination of accepting my situation and getting to know a lot of other girls on the island, listening to and recording their stories, and ultimately knowing I'm not alone. I'll try to explain what I mean as I go, actually.

First of all, I wrote my initial entry under the impression that anyone reading already knows me, and so would be familiar with the circumstances of my disappearance. That's not very professional of me; I should at least say a little bit about that here. I'm an anthropologist and historian; I was in the north doing some hands-on archaelogical research into the history and culture of the indigenous peoples there, including taking interviews from their surviving descendants. I guess that might be what put me in the mood to do interviews here, or at least a part of it. Anyway, the ship broke up in a storm, like I said before, but I've been able to track down some news reports since then that most of the passengers and crew were rescued not long afterward, save for a couple of disappearances—including one Lucas Jost.

I don't feel compelled to relive my experience of sinking into the frozen water at great detail here in writing, but...I'm sure you can imagine. It was a huge relief to wake up alive and well, lying on my back on the sand with the waves lapping across my body and the warm sun on my front side. It was a relief until I sat up and had the briefest of looks around, and then it was extremely confusing. The questions that came into my mind were the same, I imagine, as a lot of girls' first thoughts when they woke up on this island: "How did I get here? Where's everyone else? Is this island inhabited? Where even is this?" It didn't help that I could pretty well immediately see that I was far from where I'd fallen into the ocean, way too far to not be dead. At least—according to my own understanding of geography and climate, anyway.

I didn't get very long to confusedly look around, trying to make sense of my situation, before some girls ran up to greet me and help me up. I had the situation explained to me, and of course I didn't believe it at first—but I soon decided that, even if it wasn't the truth, I wanted to hear everyone's stories. Najira came along to welcome me personally not long after that, helping me find an unoccupied space in a house to live in. I was actually offered a choice between a presently-empty house, or one with a couple of people already living in it in case that would help me adjust to things better.
All of the houses are pretty big here, with three to four bedrooms each and plenty of space for that many people to live comfortably and not get in each other's way. Najira's house is the biggest, with five bedrooms; the other four have been filled by different girls over the past five years, as evidently people shuffling around between houses is a moderately common occurrence. But I just wanted some space to think, and felt a little uncomfortable about—well—living with two to three gorgeous girls right off the bat, since I didn't yet believe that I would be one too pretty soon, so I elected to live alone at first.

When I came to my bedroom and looked around, I found the desk and closet stocked with plenty of notebooks, pencils, and pens. I assumed that this was what everyone got, but found out later that the amount of note-taking supplies I got was quite a bit more than most people find in their houses from day one. I guess the island knew what I wanted to do before I did; I was actually inspired by seeing the notebooks and the computer on that desk to go and try to start getting people's stories. I thought, even if what they were saying wasn't true, they seemed to believe it, and I wanted to hear it all firsthand. Since Najira was still there at my house to see if I needed anything, I asked her for an interview first thing.

When we were through, I asked her who else might be a good person to interview, and she suggested that Danny might be willing if I could catch her "between waves". After that, I wandered around, found the library and met Millie, and then of course there was Irya. It was a couple of hours after she got transformed by this island that I actually talked with her, and since I'd seen that change firsthand, it was a fairly brief interview. I didn't want to take up too much of her time adjusting to things here anyway, being fully aware of how much of a shock this place is even if you don't instantly shrink into a cute girl on arrival.

Something I've wondered about is whether accepting the reality that the change is coming, or wanting it, has some sort of influence over how soon it begins and how quickly it progresses. Irya's experience seems to contradict that hypothesis, but she could be an outlier for some unknown, unrelated reason; it's not like we have the means to actually rule out confounding factors in order to do a proper scientific study on this extremely supernatural phenomenon. But it certainly matches up with my own experience to think so, anyway: My first day here ended with me accepting the inevitability that I'd change, and the following morning I discovered that it had started.

For me, it started with a change to my face: I woke up, looked in the mirror, and saw a girl's face looking back. I'd actually been wearing a pretty big beard when I first arrived, one of several measures taken to help me out in the frozen north. But with how hot it is here, that was extremely uncomfortable, so I used a razor I found in my bathroom to shave it all off as best I could. The little bit that my efforts left over had now vanished, but it wasn't just that I looked clean-shaven. My face was small, round, soft-looking: Cute and girlish, standing out very starkly and strangely against my otherwise completely male body. The clothes I found to wear that morning all fit that male body just fine; I chose some bermuda shorts and a thin t-shirt that seemed like they'd be comfortable for walking out on the beach.

Given that the face is a very obvious feature, the first thing many people look at when they greet someone, it was only natural for everyone to comment on how I had "started" as soon as they first saw me that day. Dr. Haden didn't make any such comment; she has far too serious a demeanor, even while she's relaxing. I had to conduct my interview out on the beach, sitting next to her while she continued sunbathing.
She had her laptop next to her, and sat up to pull it over and show me those pictures she took. Not very many of us get laptops here, myself included, but it seems like the island decided Lauren 'deserved one' not long after her arrival. Anyway, I was a little shocked at how willing she was to show those kind of exposing photos, but she said "It's in the name of science" and "we'll all be women soon, anyway". I couldn't argue with either of those, not after seeing my face that morning.

At the end of the interview, I stood up and headed off to compile my notes on my computer, assured that Lauren was going to email me the pictures she'd shown me right away. I realized on my way back to my house that my arms and legs were missing most of their hair, and pulling up my shirt for a second, it became obvious that the rest of my skin was the same way as my face now: Soft, smooth, hairless. It hadn't stopped just because I was busy giving an interview; if anything, it was like it had waited until I was too busy with that to notice.

Nothing else seemed to happen to me for the rest of the morning. I had lunch in my house, and then went out to find someone else to interview. Then I spent a large chunk of my afternoon trying to interview Ciera; my entry on her already detail what made that a somewhat difficult process. I also asked a few of the other girls who'd been around at that time for corroboration of her story, but found that she more or less told me the whole truth, so there wasn't much need to mention that in the entry itself. I think the sand that wound up in my keyboard after that came from her, maybe deposited onto my notebook and then dropped onto the keyboard while I was holding that up in front of the screen.

I'm not really the best with computers, hence my preference for paper notes. So I didn't know it was the keyboard making it impossible to type what I wanted to type, and thought it was the entire computer having fits. Soon enough, I gave up in frustration since I didn't know what was wrong and was getting hungry anyway, and went to supper. I'd been invited to a small dinner at Najira's place (I think so I wouldn't have to be alone for every meal), and was glad to not have to prepare it myself in my present mood, so that's where I went.
Dr. Haden was another of the guests at that dinner. Perhaps Lauren saw that frustration on my face and followed me to my place to see what I was so upset about. It didn't occur to me until then just how open everyone's houses really are, but I guess nobody really minds visitors, or at least it's normal to tell people when you don't want them instead of that being the default.

After a change of complexion and a loss of body hair, what a lot of the stories I've compiled so far move on to is hair growth, voice change, and/or bodily shrinking. None of those things happened to me while I was watching Nikki try every diagnostic test under the sun on my computer and, simultaneously, interviewing her. Instead, I felt my shirt crawling its way up my stomach while its sleeves fell increasingly loose. I was always a little on the short side as a boy, and what was happening to me was partially the opposite of the usual: I got taller, yet also slimmer and narrower.
Nikki is quite a tall girl too—having maintained the height she had as a boy—and when I was thanking her for the interview and the help with the computer, she remarked that I'd grown—no doubt seeing that our eyes were now level instead of me having to tilt up to not be staring at her impressive chest. I only really put together what I'd been feeling for the past half hour or so after she pointed this out, and then I rushed to scribble some notes about it in the separate notebook I had earmarked to use for my own change.

Nothing else happened to my body that night. I noted down that my appearance was now "tall, but slim and slightly androgynous with an effeminate face". That's pretty much what I woke up to the following morning, and when I saw that, I was conflicted between being relieved or being stressed that things weren't progressing very quickly. I began trying to more seriously contemplate how I really felt about what was happening to me, and try to force myself to process it—but I still had interviews I wanted to do that day.

I saw Ara with her catlike ears and tail almost as soon as I was outside, and I had to know what was up with that. She'd been going out to get coffee—apparently one of her neighbors "made it the right way" or something—and allowed me to follow her back to her house/animal hospital for an interview, since she didn't anticipate being too busy that morning. I could hear my voice slowly changing while I talked to her, but it wasn't a very straightforward change; it was like it would get higher, then deeper again yet less masculine, and then higher again. This cycle repeated a number of times before it finally seemed to settle into the way it sounds now. I'd describe it as mid-range, decidedly feminine and mature, but with a hint of cuteness still—and that's just where it naturally settles when I don't think about it; I've found with some brief experimenting that I've actually got a fairly wide range overall.

Looking at my entry for Ara, I believe I can see the start of a change in the way that I write. First, I started to refer to a generic person on this island as "she/her" instead of something more general, which makes sense..everyone's female, after all. But it is definitely a stylistic change from what I would've written before coming here.
Second, I see the beginnings of my own commenting on other girls' appearances in..complimentary ways. I think I was starting to pick up the way that girls talk about each other all the time here on this island; everyone's more than happy to point out what she likes about how whoever she's talking to looks. It seems a little awkward to speak that way as a man, but..from one girl to another, it's hard for me to really find a fault with it. Would 'real' women, who hadn't been born as men, compliment each other this way? Maybe not...or at least it might be different particular features being pointed out. But it's a part of this island's culture, I think, especially if it slipped its way into my writings a mere two days after my own arrival.
At any rate, this is some of what I meant about my own mentality changing. Another point about that is my reflection at the end of that entry, about competing senses of dread and anticipation. Hearing a woman's voice come from my throat really drove home the fact that my own impending femininity was coming closer and closer. It forced me to think about it, for sure.

Saya's interview was next. I didn't include this in her entry, because it belongs here: When she barged into my room and announced that she was here to check if I was 'done', I told her I was still quite male, thank you. And she said, "Oh wow, that's a pretty voice you've got! And just look at that adorable face! I bet you're gonna turn out drop-dead gorgeous!" Asking her if she'd agree to an interview was partially my own way of brushing off those forceful compliments, I think; I was feeling a bizarre sort of embarrassment at having those features called out like that, and badly wanted to change the subject. Not that it helped much—she brought it right back up at the end of the interview, after all.

While I was sitting there composing the entry for Saya, I found some unusual discomfort in my computer chair that I'd never noticed before. I wriggled around, or stood up and briefly paced before sitting back down, and it would go away. It didn't take me too long to realize what was happening, and some quick examination confirmed my first guess that this was a result of my lower body beginning to take on more feminine proportions. That is: My hips were getting wider, and my bottom was getting bigger. It happened slowly and steadily the whole time I was writing; it soon began to pull the shorts and underwear I had on strangely tight, stretching them against..well, what was between my legs at the time..in a slightly uncomfortable manner. I put up with it until I was done writing, and then went to see if the island had given me something more fitting to wear.

By now, the growth was all done; I had hips to die for (or what would be that for a girl, anyway), and my thighs had grown noticeably plumper, too. The way I stood up and walked was different now because of that; my center of balance had shifted noticeably. It was strange: I was aware of the difference, but had no difficulty adjusting, as if my body and the motor-control parts of my brain already knew exactly what to do. Anyway, I found some underwear resembling a pair of boyshorts, and a pair of gymshorts, that were wide enough for my expanded butt yet still had enough room between the legs to be at least reasonably comfortable.

Millie actually bothered to knock on the front door to the house, loud enough for me to hear from my bedroom. I hurried to let her in, and we had a pleasant chat, still the interview I think I enjoyed the most so far. She could see how stressed I was about the changes coming on right away, and put both of her hands around one of mine, saying, "It's okay, you'll get through it and feel better than ever. I promise." The usual kind of encouragement people give each other on this island is helpful, but...I feel like Millie's quiet, kind words helped me the most of all. If I'm ever in a position to do the same, I definitely want to be more of a 'Millie' and less of a 'Saya', I think. But I'll admit, at the time certain parts of my body interpreted this gesture as a beautiful woman holding my hand and leaning in close, and..I was very definitely attracted to her. I managed to suppress it socially for the most part—I mean, I was probably blushing, and she was blushing for the first few minutes or so, but we both focused on the matter hand: Her interview.

I didn't think anything else changed while I was talking to Millie, not until she left and I stood up to go for a walk out on the beach. That was when I realized that I wasn't feeling quite so squeezed by the underwear and shorts I'd put on to fit the widened hips. No, they weren't any less tight—I was actually smaller in the place they'd been uncomfortable. Of course: The part of my anatomy that made me actually male was beginning to give way before the island's effects.

About Millie's entry, though. My first few entires, I wrote—and thought of—the women on this island as "they", "the inhabitants"..you know, other people. By our librarian's entry, I can see that I was already starting to feel like a part of the community: Now it's "us" and "our". I also started calling the other girls "girls" quite a bit, I can see, a trend that continues in my later entries on through to this one. And..there's more of me talking about how good the girl the entry is about looks. By the time I was typing Millie's entry, I knew my manhood wasn't very long for this world, so...if I even noticed I was doing it, I suppose I felt like it didn't matter anymore. After all, like Lauren said, "We'll all be women soon anyway."

I went out to the beach with Millie because I'd been planning to anyway, but also to get out of my own head for a little while. I won't be so histrionic as to describe myself as mourning for my masculinity, but it's fair to say that I did start out with denial and was inching ever closer to acceptance at this point...especially when I occasionally felt a slight, strange twinge of motion between my legs that afternoon. Maybe some of those were just my still-male body reacting the way one does to close proximity to scantily-clad, beautiful girls..especially when it was Millie...but I think the majority were just what you'd probably imagine. It's certain that enough of them were that that when I paused between supper and writing my last entry for that day to check, I found myself to be quite small down there.

I'd like to describe the experience of changing sex frankly and forthrightly. It's likely that not every girl on this island had exactly the same physical sensations, but I think it's fair to say that...even the ones who did have sensations similar to what I got, who I've interviewed, may have been understandably embarrassed to fully go into the details. I can't say for sure that anyone had an experience like mine, but...I believe it's likely that some did. So, the more a girl blushed when coming to this part of her story, the more I now suspect she was..putting her own description of it somewhat mildly. I won't name names, of course; I only want to talk about myself here.

All of that is to say..I took a seat on a couch in the main room of my house after I finished writing Millie's entry. No change had come between my legs while I was writing—thankfully, because that would've been pretty distracting—but almost the instant I was finished, this..curious tingling had started, down there. The tingling, I realized, was actually the same feeling I'd been getting before, but continuous instead of in only brief little bursts. It came on stronger and stronger from there (by now I was sitting down), turning into a tugging and slipping feeling. I found myself squirming around in my seat and making little..sounds of anticipation as it got sharper, and I could physically feel that part of me that was male starting to pull itself that last little bit inward.
I'll admit: I actually cried out when it happened. A very girlish "Aaa~aaah" kind of cry. Even after all of the build up, it was a surprisingly intense bragge of sensations: a quite sharp pull, a fuzzy, flowing sensation down there, and a motion in the pit of my stomach that must've been the rapid formation of a womb. The tingling and tugging had definitely been..stimulating me, down there, in the last moments that I was a man, and that stimulation seemed to somehow immediately transfer into the feminine organs I now found myself with being just as affected, if not even more so.
I probably cried out a little more while I experienced this, until it finally came to an end. And then I felt—just physically speaking, mind you—happy, satisfied, relieved. It was like something (some part of me?) had been pressuring me to feel that...pleasure, to at least give it a try—and now that I had, and had enjoyed it, that very same 'something' was happy, and I couldn't help being at least little happy with it. Maybe that doesn't make any sense; perhaps my tired mind was just making all of that up. But...I certainly wasn't dreading the transformation anymore; with my manhood completely gone already, there wasn't really anything to dread. I could only look forward to the rest now—or at least, that's how I felt that night.

The next day—today, my first full day as a woman—there was the breakfast and the interview with Kate. I can see those changes in the way I think and write about things in full force with her entry, from calling everyone "girls" to mentioning how cute she was (and still is!). She has this nonchalant, seemingly perpetually ill-tempered way of emoting that still fails to hide how happy she really is here with everyone else, but her tail is always wagging whenever she talks to certain people, or any time she hears someone compliment her appearance or her cooking. Excuse me—I'm tempted to edit that last sentence out, but I feel like it puts on full display the change of disposition I've undergone since the island began transforming me. That's another thing, actually: I've noticed myself increasingly describing anything supernatural that happens here as "the island" doing it, like it's a person or at least a living creature that causes those events. I don't think that's really how it is, but it's a convenient shorthand for "scientifically inexplicable phenomena" anyway, I suppose.

Returning to the topic of my own change: It was during breakfast and the subsequent conversation with Kate that my hair (I mean what grows from my scalp) actually, finally grew out. It was almost shoulder-length by the time I was done eating—some long bangs threatening to get in my vision while other locks framed my face—and it slowly trickled its way down my back and shoulders while I was interviewing Kate. By the end it was about halfway down my back, covering the back of my chest, and that's where it's stayed until now. Seeing Kate's hair still put up from when she'd been cooking, and noticing my own increasingly long hair, put that concept in my mind. So after Kate's interview, I asked one of the other girls just what everyone does to take care of their hair, and that's how I wound up at Jill's salon.

Jill told me that my hair didn't need any attention just yet—"Everyone's perfect when they first change," she said—but I clarified that I wanted an interview and why, and she was happy to oblige. I'll probably be back there to get her "assistance" too, maybe when it's not so busy. Or, maybe when I do want to do something new with my own hair, or my nails or something...but I digress.

I didn't change any more throughout that interview either, and you should note that at this point I looked every bit like a tall, cute, curvy woman—aside from a completely flat chest. My wardrobe choices this morning had been rather limited compared to previous days too, and I was stuck with only panties and bikini bottoms, not even any shorts to choose from! So...I was in a bikini bottom and as long a shirt as I could find, which still barely covered the upper half of my hips when I was standing up. Nobody really seemed to mind my state of dress, or even find it remarkable—as I've said before, skimpy outfits are a pretty consistent trend here because that's what the island provides and they're more comfortable out in the island's heat, so it's pretty much a completely acceptable state of dress.

I went back to my house to write up Kate and Jill's entries, and wound up sitting at my computer for quite a while in order to achieve that. Around halfway through writing Kate's, I happened to notice my chest seemed a little more sensitive than usual to the way my shirt moved across it when I shifted around in the chair. A quick examination found the nipples were bigger than before, both wider and taller, and so I knew that the last step of my change had begun. From there, tiny bumps slowly rose their way up from underneath those two as they continued to slowly get bigger themselves, and by the time I was nearly through writing Jill's entry I had what could reasonably be called a girl's breasts.

I took a moment before finishing up the closing few paragraphs to get up, roll the shirt up, and actually take a good look at them in the mirror. I..admit that when I was taking notes for Saya's entry, I felt like it was a little ridiculous of her to see herself having rapidly grown breasts—something that usually takes years during a woman's puberty—and yeet still impatiently poke and prod and jeer at them to get bigger already. But...I'll also admit I felt a slight disappointment at my own..'size', at this time. I wrote what I did at the of my last entry in anticipation and expectation of them continuing to get bigger for a while yet. It's fair to say that at this point I had no negative emotions whatsoever when it came to my transformation; it was all eager anticipation of what was to come.

I had some lunch, and then I took a break, going out by the beach to just talk. No notepads, no pens—I just wanted to relax and hang out with some of the other girls, like I had with Millie yesterday. I had to put up with the occasional teasing words as the girls noticed my chest pushing itself up and out more and more throughout the afternoon. Well, I say put up, but I found myself blushing, smiling and giggling along with them. They were, in their own way, cheering me on, and now I found myself happy to hear compliments of my increasingly amazing figure, as well as people pointing it out for me as it became even more so.

I must've thought they were finished growing five or six separate times, only to then feel the motion of my shirt across them as they swelled out just a little bit more. By suppertime they'd grown big—bigger than Millie's, for sure, and at least Ara's size. One of the girls invited me to eat with her and her housemates, and I was happy to accept. Then I came back here to start writing this entry. I was feeling eager and energized to write this, and even though I could feel my boobs pushing out a little more even as I sat down at my computer, I knew it wouldn't be much longer before I was finished.

In a...sort of coincidence, it was just after I wrote that part about the experience of changing sex that I felt one particularly long and hard push from my chest. I was already feeling a little..warm in the cheeks from thinking back over those sensations, and somehow the feeling of my bust growing this particular time seemed to exacerbate that, giving me a slight recurrence of the fuzzy feeling down between my legs, like another insistent reassurance that I am, completely and totally, a woman. Not that I'm really complaining...it felt nice, I must say.

Nothing else came after that, and I can't say that I really want it to. The breasts I wound up with are a pair of gigantic, almost comical globes that'll probably squish against each other once I actually put on some support instead of only having a loose t-shirt hang down over them. As of now, I have just the kind of gorgeous, tall, curvy body that Saya was probably anticipating for me, and I honestly couldn't be much happier with it!


Speaking of her...it's pretty late into the night now, so I guess I'll ask her to take my picture in the morning. I'm sure she'll do a great job of showing off all my best features!

I've also made a decision about my name: I'll be going by Luka from now on. Maybe it's a bit lazy, just cutting off one letter from my male name and changing another in a way that doesn't alter the pronunciation, but...I feel like it's "me". It's a little hard to describe, and I can see why other girls had a hard time fully and properly explaining why they changed their names when I asked them. I just want what the other girls on this island call me to fit, I suppose, the same way that I want my clothes to fit me; it simply makes me feel more comfortable.

I can ask myself, now, how I feel about being stuck as a woman. There are some aspects to it which I hadn't anticipated, much less anticipated enjoying quite so much. Being taller is nice. Like I was saying back in Jill's entry, it's hard for me to really even see the loss of manhood as a meaningful disadvantage in the face of everything else I'm getting.
On top of all of that, I feel like...it makes me fit in with everyone else a lot better. We've all got this bizarre, shared experience of washing ashore here male, then undergoing an involuntary metamorphosis into an attractive female. It's a part of what defines the community here on Changing Island, and how we all interact with each other; it's a known quantity we can use to help introduce any newcomers to this place, too. That's not to say that I think we couldn't all get along without it, but seeing how it's inevitable anyway, co-opting it as a kind of societal glue to help us all relate to each other better definitely isn't the worst way to handle it.

You shouldn't imagine, by the way, that this is my last entry; it's just that it's my entry. I'll be doing another interview tomorrow, I'm sure, and I'm intent on compiling my notes and typing up the accounts of the other girls on this island until I've got every single one of them down. And even then, I know my work won't be done—more boys will wash ashore with their own changes to experience and their own stories to tell. Even they don't, there's a lot more I can research and write about when it comes to this paradisiacal society we've got going here, and the various mysteries of supernatural provision and physical metamorphosis that seem to be intrinsic properties of this island. I'm bound to keep on writing about all of those things, because I'm Luka—the historian of Changing Island!

Was that too cliche? Too chipper? Too informal? It feels like the right thing to say to round this entry off regardless. No, I refuse to edit it out. I'll leave this in, too; I want an honest account of myself, after all.



I've had the image for Luka picked out for a very long time, I think even as far back as the initial run of this story as an eventually-abandoned caption series. I had a rough idea of how this entry would work, and came up with some more ideas for it while I was putting together the recent bunch of entries for this story and tried to work those ideas in so this would feel a little more natural. Hopefully the wait was worth it.

Wednesday, August 31, 2022

Changing Island: Entry 11




Entry 11

I've made mention of hair many times in my past entries, particularly how essentially every one of us gets longer hair along the way to turning into a pretty girl. It's a natural (or at least generally expected) part of femininity, after all, and I've had reason to have it on my own mind lately, too. With all of the girls on the island, with all of our varying lengths of hair, and especially with how much walking around sandy beaches and swimming a lot of us tend to do, it's only natural that everyone needs some help tending to all that hair.

All of that is to say, of course we've got a hair salon here. One of the big rooms off the entryway of one of the houses is where it is, and a liscensed beautician runs it along with her two housemates and the odd volunteer when the volume gets to be too much. She doesn't just cut and style hair, either, and is always happy to have another 'canvas' to paint with her particular kind of art. Her name's Jill, and today she was willing to give me an interview in her salon, even while she was busily working with customers the whole time. Talking while working seems to be second nature to people like her—or people with her sort of job, in my experience.

As I'm sure you could guess, Jill used to be a male beautician—named Jack. He was tall, rugged and handsome, proud of the way he kept his hair and his beard. There's no proof of this, because he was the sixth person to wash ashore here, around a month and a half after Najira did—so there's no pictures of how she used to look. He was working in a salon aboard a massive and extremely fancy cruise ship, got a little too inebriated at a staff party after hours, went up on deck, there was a storm...I'm sure you could guess this part too. He fell overboard, was underwater for maybe two or three seconds, and there was no ship when he surfaced. He tried to swim in a straight line, hoping desperately to find land or at least another ship, but he wasn't a very good swimmer back then, and eventually collapsed into the ocean, only to wake up here.

Since the island wasn't anywhere near as populated back then, nobody found him when he first washed ashore; instead, he slowly stood up and went inland to look for civilization, and soon found the houses. It was only after he called out a few times that Najira came outside to welcome him. Now, with how early into this island's habitation this was, the pattern of men washing ashore and turning into attractive women was known, but not to the point where they were completely sure it was inevitable. She told him that it had happened to her and the four other girls on the island at the time, and that it might happen to him, in an effort to keep him from being shocked if and when it did. Jack was somewhat distracted by her poorly-maintained hair, some frayed and split ends here and there, and let her know about those things as soon as she was done talking, practically begging her to let him fix it and help her not have those issues again.

The same kind of thing happened with the other girls as he met them—all of them needed the care of a stylist and a little bit of advice (at least, that's what Jill tells me anyway). He went looking for a brush and a pair of scissors in the nearest house and basically claimed a room to work in, pulling in some chairs and chatting with the five of them while he worked. He complained about not having everything he needed, and someone went and raided the nearest bathroom to at least get him a hairdryer. By the time he was done fussing with everyone's hair and giving them all advice, it was late in the afternoon, so Najira offered to treat him and everyone else to some supper at her place.

"Now, this part's freaky," is what Jill said. When they were done eating, Jack went back to the makeshift salon to put back all the borrowed chairs and grooming equipment, only to find the entire room had completely changed in everyone's absence. Suddenly there were mirrors across the walls, counters, lifting chairs and hairdryer chairs. The counters were fully stocked with everything a stylist could ever want or need, including shampoos and gels, sinks, hairdriers and razors and all the necessary outlets to run them. Besides that, the places he'd borrowed things from had either reclaimed those items or spontaneously generated replacements.

To me this isn't quite as shocking as I'm sure it was to them, given that I've already heard about the spontaneous appearance of an entire library filled with books—but I think this is the first time that something like this ever happened. Anyway, Jack called everyone to come look, and used some of that equipment for a second round with a few of the girls who were willing. And he noticed, after everyone left, while he was shutting off the lights in the salon and getting ready to go to a neighboring bedroom for a well-earned sleep, a "weird feeling down below, you know?" (Jill's words).

In fact, the very first change Jack seemed to experience was the source of this feeling. He went to a bathroom to check, and found that his manhood was already much smaller than he remembered, and visibly shrinking even more. Since he'd been warned this might happen, it wasn't quite as surprising as it might have been, but it was still—she told me—"super weird and surreal." He continued on toward bed from then, stripping off everything but his boxers, but he couldn't get to sleep while the strange feeling between his legs continued—especially not when he knew exactly what it was.
Maybe an hour or so after he lay down, the feeling came on especially strong for a matter of just a few seconds, and—well, Jill described it to me as "That's when my 'little Jack' became a 'little Jill'!" Which is to say, he'd already turned physically female, along with a small burst of "good feelings down there" before her body was finally comfortable enough to allow her to sleep.

She woke up the following morning to find that the boxers had shrunk into a pair of tight, feminine boyshorts, but the clothes she'd taken off the night before—as well as all the other clothes that had generated themselves into place in her bedroom—still looked like they belonged on a man's body: Pants, shorts, shirts, that kind of thing. In fact, she hadn't changed at all since becoming female, making her look and sound just like the man she'd washed ashore as. Jack wasn't really sure how to break this to the other girls at this point, so she decided to just not worry about it, putting on some swim trunks and a tank top and going to have breakfast and see whether there was any work to do.

A couple of girls wanted a little more advice from 'him', but with all the work Jack had done on his first day there, there was nobody in particular need of a haircut. She did persuade one girl to let her do her nails, and had some fun manicuring and painting them up "nice and pretty". Jack noticed her beard slowly steadily thinning away, shrinking into a few patches of peach fuzz by lunchtime—and this was the first thing anyone else noticed too, leading the girl whose nails she was doing to remark that that was probably the start of "the change". Jack sort of chuckled at this, but still felt too embarrassed to tell her why and said it was 'nothing' instead.

After lunch, Jack's facial hair vanished the rest of the way off, and so did the hair on her arms, legs, and torso, all of that skin softening and smoothing as it happened. She was actually delighted to see this shift in complexion, taking it as a sign that she wasn't going to be stuck as a strangely manly-looking girl for very long. Yet, similar to the day before, these changes were the only ones that hit her, and she was left smooth-skinned and female but still oddly tall, rugged and handsome-looking by the end of the day.

She was happy to wake up the next morning to a tangle of hair all around her head. That is—she wasn't happy about the tangled hair, but rather the fact that it had grown overnight to a length sufficient for it to even be able to tangle. When she got up and brushed it straight, she found it was already a couple of inches past shoulder length; additionally, its color had paled slightly, "like someone had done a bad job of trying to un-bleach it". This was wonderful news to the hair stylist, since it meant she could actually play with her own hair now instead of only other people's. Jill admitted to me at this point that—as Jack—he'd always been a little jealous of how pretty girls' hair could look. He made himself look as great as he could, but felt like he just couldn't pull off long, pretty hair and all the fun styles it could come in. Well—now she'd be able to do just that, even if she mostly still looked like the man she'd been back then.

All of her available underwear had been boyshorts the day before, and now it had all shrunk further, into panties and bikini bottoms. All the other clothes were different too, a little tighter-fitting and more feminine looking. Jill remarked to me that most of the outfits were too small to even fit her at all, leaving her with some male-sized swim trunks and a hawaiian shirt as her best option for the moment.

Anticipating that there wouldn't be very many "customers" today either, Jack decided to go out to the ocean and try to learn to swim a little bit better. She was thinking about how she'd wound up on the island in the first place; even though it's unlikely that even an Olympic-level swimmer could've gotten out of that situation alive (without our island "scooping him up" anyway), she just didn't want to feel so helpless in the water ever again. That meant she had on a bikini bottom under the trunks, of course. One of the other girls was happy to give her some pointers, but noted that a lot of it was just practice, after all—so Jack resolved that she would practice.

She noticed the color in her hair slowly draining out while she swam, like the ocean was washing off some dye. It wasn't long at all before it had turned a pure, snowy white—which Jill tells me makes it a "perfect canvas for coloring!" She actually likes to keep it the natural color a lot of the time, but now and then—including at the time of the interview—she'll give it some other color just for fun. Right now, it's this very pretty, vibrant red.

She came out of the water around lunchtime. Now, since she was actually female, Jack didn't feel too comfortable going topless, even though her chest hadn't "sprouted" just yet, so she'd been wearing that hawaiian shirt this entire time. It had gotten thoroughly soaked, and so was hanging down and dragging off of her; she thought it was uncomfortable because it was so wet. That was only partly true by the time she waded back ashore, because—once she was standing up straight on dry land—it became quite clear that it was also falling extremely loose around her shoulders and hanging its hem way down to her thighs. She had, in the course of the morning, shrunk quite a bit of height and width off, leaving her with a shorter and much more slender, androgynous build.

It was obviously a good idea to have a quick shower and towel off before going to eat anyway, so she used that as an excuse to also change clothes, and came out wearing a much smaller tank top and a pair of soft gym shorts, both of which fit her smaller body much more tightly and made her changes much more obvious. Particularly, the shorts did nothing to hide just how flat she was between the legs. So no sooner was she in view of the other girls than they took notice, surprisedly asking her when she'd "changed over".

Jack's voice was still a deep, male one; she was still a bit on the tall side for a girl, and while slim, her build remained androgynous and without any curves to it. But she admitted anyway that she'd actually been a girl since her first night of sleep on the island. Jill told me that she expected some kind of negative reaction from someone about her behavior—including keeping it a secret, since everyone seemed so interested in what was happening with her change—but instead everyone was supportive and encouraging, saying they were sure she'd turn out beautiful. Najira led the charge with this, but everyone else seemed sincere about their friendly expressions too.

Jill said that this was the moment where she felt truly accepted here, like this place could be her home for a very long time—and told me that she resolved to try to give that feeling to every other person who washed ashore here and got changed, in a similar sort of way. I actually haven't heard it put into words by any of the other girls here, but...I think that a majority must feel something quite similar. It explains the way everyone talks about new people changing, including to their own faces. Some new arrivals, like Kate when she was one, find this behavior a little bizarre and hard to swallow at first, but I think the intentions tend to shine through quickly enough.

Anyway, one of the girls had seen the manicure job she'd done the day before, and asked Jack for something similar, so she had some work to do in the afternoon. More customers came in while she worked, all wanting one beauty treatment or another, and she was happy to provide them. While her body didn't change shape any more for the rest of that day, Jack did notice her voice steadily changing, its pitch rising a little more just about every time she talked, until the end of her workday—about suppertime once again—when it had landed at a high, cute, but still somewhat mature girlish tone.

She announced at supper that she'd like to be called Jill from now on, and that she sincerely hoped her body wasn't quite finished changing yet. A tall, flat-chested girl could still be beautiful with the right 'do, Jill remarked to me at this point, but some curves and a softer face would go a long way to helping her out.

Jill's fourth day on the island started out similar to the others. She woke up with the same body shape as the night before, but found her available wardrobe altered once again: Nearly everything looked too small or short for her current size, and there were now bras and bikini tops among the things that didn't seem likely to fit her just yet. Given what had happened the day before, she took this as a good sign, and just wore the smallest tank top that would fit her out to the beach to try and practice her swimming a little more. There was nothing left to hide this time, so she used just a bikini bottom—all the boyish swim trunks had disappeared by now anyway.

Since she was actually expecting her body to change throughout the morning, Jill took periodic breaks to check in on it this time. She was delighted each time to find herself shorter, with narrower shouders, a slimmer waist, slenderer arms and legs ending in smaller hands and feet. The tank top that had been a tight fit on her coming out of the shower that morning was hanging loosely off of her upper body and trailing halfway down her hips by noon, and she was "starting to really feel like a girl now!"

These changes were complemented by some more in the afternoon. She went to work in the salon again then, having changed out the wet swimming clothes for a bikini bottom, some short jean-shorts, and a crop top that showed off her midriff before going to lunch. (I must say, it seems like Jill remembers every single outfit she wore back then...and possibly every one since then, too.) While she was walking around helping style a girl's hair, her stance and balance slowly shifted because of her hips spreading themselves out and her butt turning bigger and rounder. The salon mirrors displayed her face getting softer and rounder, becoming just as cute as her voice sounds. And last of all, once those changes seemed to be completely finished, Jill's chest finally showed some signs of growth.

They puffed themselves out only the tiniest bit before she went to supper, and after she'd come back to her house to relax for the evening, she found them very slowly raising and filling themselves out over the course of another hour or two, until they finally seemed to stop. She went to get a good look at herself in the mirror after then, and tells me that she right decided then and there she was "perfect!". I'm inclined to agree—she's got a petite figure, but still a very fetching and cute one. In defiance of her believing herself to be done, however, she woke up the following morning to find her right eye had abruptly changed its color from blue to a bright yellow. She found this mismatch with her unchanged left eye kind of annoying at first, but soon came to see her heterochromia as a unique aspect of her beauty, especially when other people said they thought it suited her.


By the time Saya came around, Jill was already a pretty accomplished swimmer, and had long since gone from doing it to get better to just swimming or floating around from time to time as a way to relax. She actually caught the beautician on her way back in from a 'therapeutic swim', which put her in a very relaxed and happy mood for the photo shoot. It seems like she gets along with our photographer quite well to this day, both of them having very compatible views on aesthetics—at least when it comes to girls, anyway.

"I feel like I already know," I said, "but how do you feel about being stuck a girl?"
"Pffsh, stuck," she answered first. "I mean like, sure, I dunno how I'd turn back, but why would I ever want to? Just look at this pretty face and amazing hair!" She gave her hair a little flip.
"Yeah, point taken."

Well, I said that, but in my opinion, there's more for a person to want out of her body than it just being attractive. Jill doesn't look extremely toned, but given how great of a swimmer she is (and how fast she seems to have picked up surfing since Danny showed up), I guess she must be much more physically fit than she looks at a first glance. It seems like being able to play with her own looks the way she always could others' is a dream come true for her, at any rate; I suppose Saya feels something vaguely similar to that, too, since she can be a really good model for her own photos?

That said, besides being healthy and fit and attractive, and not having some obvious, glaring flaw including being too short to reach anything—I'm having a difficult time thinking of what else I could ever want out of my physical appearance. I suppose that even being really short can be tolerable for some people, like Kate—I never once heard her complain about her height in that interview. Is 'just being male' really all that valuable in the first place? I'm not even sure I'm in a good position to evaluate that, since that ship has already sailed for me, and we don't know of a way for anyone to actually change back...

I think it's almost time for me to write an entry for myself. I'm going to take a break from interviews and compiling notes and just try to relax while I ride this the rest of the way out. I anticipate writing up the entry tonight, after sunset, so...until then, I suppose.