A Brand New Goth Girl [Transform the Dorm Arc]

<<Arc Introduction>> 

[Transform the Dorm]

This story was originally one of the first ones I wrote in this series. It’s meant to be introspective but also light. There are side story elements I came up with for it and I’m going to include them here and there. Hopefully, it won’t be super lengthy. This first chapter will follow a certain character and tomorrow's chapter will follow a different character. It will alternate between these characters occasionally. 

I’m tempted to refer to it as just Transform the Dorm because that’s the overriding focus. A dormitory where a lot of wild transformations happen. This Arc will contain some sexual content, nudity, language, and adult situations. 

There are going to be some connections to the other stories but this one is very light on them and meant to be more of a romp. Taking a break from the world-breaking implications of the other stories. Just some people dealing with gender-bending instead. This one definitely stands alone. Feel free to suggest a vast array of ideas for the narrative. We got a whole dorm (and more) to transform!

MajorKerina

Much thanks and appreciation to Melriss on dA for finding typos on the last chapter

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A Brand New Goth Girl

[1]

She had an epiphany, and she needed to share it.

Returning to the room, she plopped down and crawled across the bed to examine the tiny but remarkable little thing in her possession. Just a few bucks to change the world. She walked back.

The hallway was clear, to her relief and disappointment. Stepping towards the common room, her heart raced. Some boys were about, but they quickly came and went through the sliding doors. Only when she reached the main common room next to the resident assistant's office did she see some good boys. But they couldn’t see her.

The widescreen flat panel television next to the vending machines had on some cowboy program from the 1990s. Four guys stood around the billiards table taking turns shooting.

The first one she noticed kept returning to a black-and-white guitar set off to the side. His feathered, unkempt hair seemed somewhere between a dark yellow and a messy brown. Clear-framed glasses adorned his face and he wore a nondescript, wrinkly tan shirt with jeans.

Leaning back with his cue stick wrapped in his arms like an exercise bar, the guy to his right had a lean, long face with a half-finished brown beard. His messy hair rose like a pack of crumpled tissues. A gray Star Wars shirt with some immense spacecraft stretched over his flat chest. Black shorts dangled to his bony knees.

On the other side of the table from him, a small guy with pitch-black hair leveled a hundred-yard stare at some spot ahead of him. He was small and his wildly askew locks looked like he’d never brushed them in his life. He had bright pink, bow-like lips drawn in a pained expression.

The last guy was setting up the next shot. He had on a red t-shirt with some math formula joke she suspected that only ten people on campus would get. His movements appeared antsy, as though he were ready for a restroom dash. His blonde hair looked good but also swept to the side unevenly, as though he just got it cut but forgot to trim one side. His swift hand brushed it out of his left eye as he slid his stick back and forth. A pair of loose black pants did little to hide his prominent rear.

She judged the four of them and felt a pang of conflict. A few were real cute in ways she hadn’t considered before. She might want them to wrap their firm arms around her as they guided her somewhere for a little….private fun. The temptation tightened deep inside her until she took a single, quiet breath and reminded herself of what she came here to do.

She aimed for the dark-haired guy who appeared so dismal. He could definitely use the light of girlishness in his life. The first thing that happened was the narrow shape of his head compressed into a round, full form with broad cheeks. His wild hair fell back, like a sleek, brushed curtain, spreading around his shoulder to his chest on one side. His reaction was to bat at it, like a fallen bug or a sliver of debris from the ceiling. He only had an instant to look up before the wave of all the other changes crashed into him. His dark shirt spiraled out like a short dress, dipping to his thighs while his whole body lost several inches of height. A tiny, black leather skirt barely poked out of the bottom with a garter belt merging with a pair of silken black thigh-high socks. A velvet, spiked choker laced around his tiny throat.

A high-pitched girl squeak, loud enough to shatter glass if it had the energy, burst out of his soft throat. By now, the other guys had looked up and saw that something was amiss, but all stood frozen in shock. The new girl‘s eyes were traced by Egyptian black eyeliner and her broad, pouty lips were matte obsidian. The pool cue slipped from her black fingernails (and rolled around on the carpet) as she gasped in surprise.

“Ohmygosh!” Her petite hands raced around and also darted away from the shape of her body as she looked to her compatriots for an explanation.

The only response was by the antsy dude, as he finally settled in place and reacted, “Dude…what?”

It didn’t take long before the new girl desperately scampered towards the nearest hallway, shifting her stride from loping and frantic to restrained and awkward.

She wasn’t deterred by the new girl’s panic. She knew she’d find joy and beauty in this shape soon enough…

—-

The day sucked. I couldn’t figure out what my professor wanted me to do and staring at my PC back in the dorm did not help one bit. I had a massive art project to get through and inspiration left me days ago.

Going for a walk failed and put me in an even worse mood. But at least the guys in the dorm who hung out around the billiards table randomly invited me for a game. Something to take my mind off this whole shit show. It was Connor‘s turn and his feet kept bouncing around. His nerves were enough to make me wish I’d gone to the bathroom before this.

Anthony strummed a couple tunes I didn’t recognize on his guitar, but music always helped my anxiety. Zach looked like he was dwelling way too much on his last shots when I wished he would open up and chat about geek stuff. I mentioned my Marvel tee and made my best gestures to connect it to his Star Wars top. He didn’t take the hint. I wore the weights and frustrations of the day on my soul and stared out at the hall waiting for my next turn to come around.

For an instant, I had this weird inkling like someone was watching me and holding something. But it was just the four of us. The next weird thing was a tickle against my ears. Knowing how many spiders nested in the upper echelons of the rarely-dusted ceiling, I was ready to fling away a dropped web or something worse. It got even weirder fast. My entire world shifted without me moving an inch.

Hair suddenly appeared around my neck, shoulders, and way too many other places. My t-shirt felt like it had grown several sizes in the span of a breath. Something was around my neck and it didn’t feel like hair. My lips were glossy and there had to be some sort of makeup, perfume, and so many other, intangible things crowding out my senses. The only word that encapsulated it all was “Ohmygosh!” I also may have made the first squeak of my life.

There were… Boobs making bumps on my chest. They weren’t the biggest things but any sort of boobs on me were cause for alarm. The other guys stared at me and I had no idea what else to say.

Connor spoke first, “Dude…what?” As if I might have any clue as to why I felt, looked, and was suddenly dressed like this.

The fact I had on a skirt attached to stockings wasn’t my most immediate concern, but it earned a solid place on the list. I didn’t want to stick around, mostly because I had no idea how to deal with the other guys like this. I didn’t want anyone to catch me in my boxers, let alone looking and feeling like… A girl. So, I retreated. It wasn’t a very good retreat as simply walking felt so strange and uncomfortable with a hot poker of embarrassment threatening to explode out of me.

Getting away down the hall helped, but then I had to keep walking with these unfamiliar legs in the weirdest clothes with soft thighs rubbing against unmentionables. I was almost to my room before I realized I had no clue where my key might’ve gone in this clothing combo, if it even was anywhere now. Fortunately, one of the side, strikingly-shallow pockets in the skirt rattled with a set of keys.

Trying my key in the lock was met with failure. After pounding and rattling the knob, someone on the other end unlocked and opened the door. It was Marshall, my roommate of the last two years.

He looked about the same as usual but there was something uncomfortable in his gaze. He stared at me like I was a stranger. Even more than that, I caught his eyes skimming this body, checking me out as though I were just some random girl who showed up on his doorstep. He had a bad habit of once-overs and it was thoroughly unsettling to be on the business end of his curious eyeballs.

“Yeah? Sup?”

That’s all he said. I swallowed hard and mentally flailed for how to proceed. Squeezing a hand against my head, I attempted, “Do you know a guy named Taylor?”

My name. Well, I thought it was my name.

Marshall shook his head and responded, “Noooo... Why? Should I? Do you have the wrong room?”

Oh no… what was going on? The guys at the billiard table recognized that something happened to me. They clearly knew me. Marshall should’ve known the name Taylor… Unless something more was happening than first appeared. I shuddered and tried to collect myself.

Putting on a polite smile, I followed his assumption and declared, “That’s it, sorry. Sorry for bothering you.” I hadn’t really been paying attention to my voice because there were crazier things to have to deal with. It held some of the contours of what I expected my voice to be but without the rumble and depth that came from my neck. It was like a squeaky, cute girl impersonating me.

I slowly walked away and tried not to think about Marshall’s eyes following me, probably checking out my rear. Fussing with the hem of the shirt and skirt didn’t help. Eventually, the door shut.

Checking my room key, I could see that it was printed with 212 instead of 116. Upstairs.

I hesitantly took a handful of the steps near the emergency exit before retreating back down to the ground floor. The amount of jiggling those breasts decided to do was entirely too much. The better amount was none. Cautiously, I felt around this girl’s chest and bra to make sure I hadn’t screwed anything up. No, it just seemed like that amount of shifting was normal. I went with the elevator instead. At least, it just jolted me at the beginning and the end. It was also far enough away from the common area that it didn’t require me to do a return of shame to the confused billiards guys.

212 was not too far from about where 116 was on the ground floor, except it sat on the opposite side of the hallway. Carefully, I slipped the key in the lock, pushed all the way in, and turned it without a problem. This dorm had some interesting and encouraging landmarks with several wall scrolls from recent RPG games and a really cool Darth Vader one bathed in a red lightsaber glow.

Colorful strings of lights illuminated a path linking the hallway sink to the right and the kitchen to the left. Pink-toned beanbags sprawled on opposite ends of the room. Translucent gauze fabric dangled like flowery, blue drapes around the main room and separated a set of classic Nintendo games from a collection of animal plushies. Muscular, half-naked dudes covered the wall behind a silver couch facing the television.

I was totally in a girls' dorm and I had no clue if I was supposed to be here. The door closer to the front sprung open and a girl peeked out. Fair blonde hair framed her head. She wore a red t-shirt with the words, “Goonies Never Say Die” and a pleated, pink skirt. She smiled at me.

“Hey, Bea. Good walk? Hungry? There’s a bunch of fried rice cooling in the microwave. I made too much,” she spoke energetically.

Bea? As in Beatrice? Did she think that was my name? What if it was my name now? Instead of addressing that impossible tangle of questions, I managed, “Hey. Sokay. We’ll see. And awesome. Thanks!”

She approached me from the hallway and, before I was adequately prepared, wrapped me up in an all-consuming, welcoming hug. Another reminder that I was so very small now. She didn’t tower, but she had more than a head in height on me. It was a nice hug, the situation was just nuts.

Once Kasey, which I was able to piece together was her name, released me, she actually went to work pulling the fried rice out of the microwave and adorning it with extra seasoning and some scallions she got from the fridge. It was really good. The amount of home-cooked fresh meals I’d had this semester could easily be counted on one hand.

The unfortunate part was Beatrice’s little stomach couldn’t hold enough to truly stamp out my sense of hunger. It was enough for her, but my brain still wanted more.

Kasey vented about some professor I never met, but he sounded like a tool. She gave personal hints about her life as well as tidbits about someone named Drake who she was dating. I did my best to lay low and not seem suspicious. She didn’t call out any of my glib offerings, but I felt bad about not being able to contribute more.

Eventually, I was able to sneak away to the room intended for Bea and get some sense of who she was supposed to be. She was an artist, rather like me, but on a whole different level. An explosion of display pieces spread across the three walls on her side of the space and then battled for spots on the ceiling.

According to the decorations on the other end, her roommate was named Norah and she was a huge Power Rangers fan and an even bigger plant lover. Seven feet of looming bamboo in a clay pot dominated the bright corner soaking up the afternoon rays through the blinds. Dangling vines laced above the window while a content-looking potted fern sat on the desk. I kept discovering scattered, lurking plants as though they were sneaking out of the woodwork.

Beatrice’s wall by the bed had a black and white lace presentation of her name with fancy ornamentation. She seemed to live the goth aesthetic from her art to the gray, ornate fluffy blankets on her bed. I dug it. The only reason I avoided that aesthetic was because of some pressuring peers who made fun of it when I started college.

Using the full-length mirror against the wall, I checked out my reflection. Beatrice wasn’t much taller than the door knob and the upper hinge was above my head. Probably less than five feet tall, but I wasn’t super eager to know for sure. Her hair was cute, with a few purple streaks in the dark brown and askew around the neck, probably my fault.

The heavy liner with Egyptian style around her eyes made my blinks feel like an animated character. She had a tiny little mole above her lip. Those black lips and how they moved also felt disconcerting but not bad. I twisted them up into a cute smile. It was weird for my mood the last few weeks and probably even stranger for her. Maybe she was happy though, she had to be happier than me. And maybe I could be happy as her.

The choker on her neck was wild to wear, even though the spikes were more glossy, blunted, and sparkly than intimidating. Out of everything, I felt most comfortable with her black nails. Her hands and arms were so skinny and frail, but that played well with her look. A little metal Ankh on a thin band dove under her neckline. I approved of her black, Marvel t-shirt with Beast on the side.

The shirt was humongous and dangled almost halfway down her thighs. I could barely see a pleated, leather skirt peeking out the bottom. Out of everything, I wasn’t too uncomfortable with the skirt. The material made it kinda sweaty though. However, the feeling of all sorts of lacy and soft undergarments that attached to the thigh-high stockings covering her legs was a different story. The ominous, insistent threat of needing to pee loomed in the back of my head, but I’d been able to distract it away from thoughts.

Next to the mirror and leading to the desk, I saw so many photos printed and tacked to the wall. Beatrice had more clothes, costumes, and fashionable combinations than I could fathom. She was pretty in a way that felt surreal and strange to witness and feel. She was like a sister I never had or even imagined having.

She was successful too. She didn’t seem to have my kind of problems where even getting started on a simple art project twisted her up in knots and forced her to waste so much time procrastinating. I had to be better as her, I had to follow her example. Over towards her full closet, she had a clarinet case.

Her computer setup wasn’t too different from mine, but I was surprised to see OnlyFans stickers and placards celebrating subscriber milestones. On top of everything else, this girl was Internet popular in a way that made my throat dip all the way to the mysterious nether region between my legs. That was a lot to take in. My heart and mind raced as I mulled over what to do next.

[I have a question at the end of the chapter again to help with suggestions for where the story should go. I'm actually not that far ahead this time and I am wide open to all possibilities for this particular story. Feel free to add an idea which doesn't show up in the options. Also, if you see any random typos or uncapitalized starts of sentences, please pass them along. I have to cut down on my editing due to release speed and my programs don't seem to be catching lowercase sentences. Thank you for reading!]