Chapter 1-2 (conclusion) - The Outset

I woke up like I had bounced on the mattress, but the bed was still. Checking my phone, I noticed it was already eight hours after I'd closed my eyes. My brain gently convinced me that no one else was up. This backslide was halted by an anime-like instrumental track piping out of Ben's phone. He didn't seem eager to get up either, cursing under his breath and ceding the heavy blanket to the neutral zone of the bed and my end.

It wasn't long before footsteps creaked the floor and Owen checked in on us, announcing the time and remarking, "Just letting you know, breakfast will be our first run at the hot sauce challenge. Take it easy and see ya in a bit."

With a groan, I picked up my phone and transcribed what I could recall of my dream. Not much of it felt like events I could be absolutely certain of. Whatever. I didn't feel like a shower, so I just gazed around the room as Ben rubbed his eyes and sniffled a bit before he worked up some degree of lucidity.

I mulled whether I was a girl in my dream. I didn't feel like one, but I remembered wearing something soft and had light hair blowing around my face. Maybe I was just standing with Amanda or some dream girl. The ocean was nice, but it felt so muffled. I made a note to ask Owen about a park with a lake or something nearby after I managed to remember to ask him if there was anything up in the attic.

Slipping out of bed, I felt the blood surge between my legs. Down down down...I didn't need Ben or especially a wandering Willow to see that. Stretching my leg position as I straightened my back allowed me to disguise it as loose, jutting pants. Still, I aimed away from the main door until things finally followed my orders.

Popping my joints, along with a careful yawn, allowed me to regain my composure. Peaking under the curtain blasted a sharp ray of light directly at my eyes. Casting the abominable laser back to its domain, I slipped on my glasses and turned the light on in the bathroom so I could wash up. By the time I was ready to investigate the world, Ben was just peeking over at his phone.

From the hallway, I couldn't hear much from the girls but a blinding ray through a far, eastern window made my eyes gush tears. Staggering down the steps, I clung to the banister.

Back at the ground floor, the smell of eggs, bacon, and other wonderful things wafted from behind me. While immense, the kitchen bustled with activity from Noah in exercise clothes and Sam in a tank as Owen filled the counters with hash browns, grilled potatoes, what had to be hominy grits, and ham slabs. Grilled veggies were on another burner as he quickly asked me what I wanted. Noah swiftly rattled off what they had and could make.

My brain still warming up, I resolved a veggie omelet, some grits, and fruit. Before long, I had a plate of fruit to take with me to the den. The other stuff would have to wait. Meanwhile, I nodded off to the screensaver again.

I could hear Harley ascending the stairs and the girls making their way down. Everyone looked so much more prepared for first meal than I felt. Willow asked if I slept well. I confirmed as she went off about how she kinda still felt tired but her hair was in a tangle then she had a weird dream, like something out of Terranigma with a bird carrying her across the world, then she was the bird, flying free and that reminded her of a song she only knew the melody to.

Thank God there wouldn't be a test on what she told me because it flew by as rapidly as a bird.

I got roped into witnessing an untranslated recording of Japanese morning exercises. I vaguely-understood what was being said according to tone more than comprehension. Was everyone else just more of a morning person than me? Well, fake it till you make it.

Willow noticed my long blinks and quoted, "But remember this. It is still too early for the world.."

Yeah, too early indeed. I quietly finished the rest of the line for her and excavated some crust still left around my eyes.

It wasn't long before I had to opt-out of the rest of the exercises because my back just was not ready for it. I continued to flex and twist on the couch as much as I could manage without setting off my back or jostling Ben, who sat nearest to me and was having none of any exercise and plenty of the ham.

Harley flexed and pranced like a stick bug I recalled from a nature documentary.

Noah split time between being a server for the group and something like a cruise director for the exercises. His breakfast centered around bananas and grits. Sam actually went so far as deciding to cook his own cut of steak to go with eggs.

For all the chaos which had been awakened at this early hour, Owen remained steady and focused on cooking and making sure everyone was satisfied. The area had basically become something between a restaurant and a jazzercise gym, especially considering the odd musical choices. Amanda threw herself into everything, especially the yoga, while quivering in her single leg pose like a nervous flamingo. Willow was unshakable and unwatchable for me as a shiver, not authentic to the swelling warmth of the morning, passed through my legs.

If I could grab a shower later then I might have let off some thoughts before they built up and became too distracting. She had a new, sharp aroma this morning and it shook off like invisible, powdered sugar. I smothered my shame with larger bites of food.

I had to leave enough food for the challenge, although Owen brought out a potato-bag-sized mass of tortilla chips for anyone who needed it. Only once amusement and taste buds had been placated to a certain degree and morning turnip prices had been checked, did the lanky bottle of "mana burn" emerge from the kitchen.

We each received what looked like a sakura-patterned, sushi restaurant dipping dish but no hot sauce yet. Harley and Sam helped him set up several directional mics and a boom mic in the middle. I just had one pricey condenser mic at home with some easy-to-adjust peripherals, so this felt like a forest of black wires. We spread out far enough so we wouldn't have to deal with echoing. Owen also had several Bluetooth headsets, just in case.

After sound tests and fiddling, he seemed confident enough to start. Since I often collaborated with Sam, he sat next to me with Willow on the other side of him. Harley and Amanda formed the relatively-quiet edge towards the door while Ben and Noah were the dissimilar duo right next to Owen, who sat in a chair so he could easily get up and troubleshoot.

Only after a lot of adjusting, removing, and replacing equipment did Owen look happy enough to start.

"Hello feisty friends, familiar family, far-off fellows, and anyone I left out, we have something very special for you this morning, night, or whenever this finds you. The first annual...we don't really have a name for this...Con. OBAWNAHS...BOWSHANA! The Bowshana Con. I just came up with that off-the-cuff....clap. And pause. Should I restart from the top? Everyone okay with that? Literally just leaked out of my head."

Everyone glanced around and looked happy. I had no idea what that meant but I also had no complaints. Owen had a better head than me about naming stuff for online promotion. He swiftly took out his phone and did a few web searches, commenting, "Online...I am only seeing a few random LinkedIn posts with similar names. OH! Oh wow. It sounds kinda close to like Rochambeau. Only in reverse. Bow shan ah might be a good way to make it sound. Alright, gotta reset."

He started his calm and friendly intro with the same words but when he hit the name, he explained, "Now we don't have a formal name for this but just throwing words out there, I came up with Bow Shan Ah...Bowshana Con. Shame we're so far from Shenandoah-anything out here in quiet little Germantown, Tennessee. I could grow a Shenandoah beard but I don't need to scare small children."

Noah chimed in to the contrary and Owen thanked him and pointed out who he was joined by, noting, "Now, I'm not sure what order to go in so...I think I'll go in Bow Shan Ah order. Which still doesn't quite work because we have two folks whose names start with the same letter. Y'all, the story of my life. But first, we have..."

He gestured to Ben, who looked startled for a second and stumbled over answering, "B-ben...Benjamin. Benjamin Belanger. I'm..."

Owen stopped him and announced the order to everyone so they could prepare. I went before Amanda alphabetically. Recollecting his thoughts, Ben started, "Benjamin Belanger, RainierAngelSea, as well Flattened For Your Lore on YouTube and podcasts."

Owen tossed back to himself, "And I am FarglowHunter, your humble host, Owen Atkins. The man with the plan from the Memphis clan on YouTube and Deviantart with all links below. Expect the subject bar to be so stuffed it can't be filled with more wonderful people. We also have..."

Willow put on her professional voice and clearly-stated, "Willow Bray, you can find me on Twitter and Instagram as LadyFyda95 and together as one-half of the DarkShrineofHam."

Sam followed her, "Which means I'm also here. What's up, HamFam? This is Samuel Kerr coming to you LIVE...when this was recorded with little sleep but all of the ENERGY! Oh yeah! I'm the Kool-Aid Man!"

Owen then tossed it to Harley, which made me sit up and draw breath as quietly as possible as Harley coolly replied, "Greetings and welcome, dear friends. Harley Campbell of BigBilbyPlays with all my mates together in one room and one ripper of a good time ahead of us."

I counted so Owen would have enough open air to cut the timeline and I didn't clip into Harley's intro before saying, "And I have a question for you, I'm Aaron Richard Kline, ARK with ArkCanonPlays and the DOOMtroop. Games, lore, and much more before you start your day on YouTube."

It was beautiful and awful and I wanted to do it again but it was done and Noah came next, "Don't even slip, it's the master and commander of the DOOMTroop, XananabApeel. A name I've never pronounced the same twice, it's Noah Conwaaaaay!" That was his quip if he ever got his own username wrong, which his comment section kept a nitpicky running tally of, even though I never heard him flub it.

Owen completed, "And last but never least..."

Adding a mature but spunky mood to her regular tone, Amanda spoke, "Oh...I see how it is...I'm DrifloonKara on Instagram, Twitter, Deviantart, YouTube and wherever else will take me! Amanda Foley, not Axel Foley, and don't burn me or I WILL END YOU! Thanks for plaaaying!"

We all seemed to let out a collective breath from a clean opening before Owen transitioned into the game. Smash, again, because it was fairer. "Smash and Burn" was the video title that also dropped out of Owen's thoughts as he made sure all the capture equipment was behaving. 

Three stock again. If you get KO-ed, then you have to sample the sauce. If you're out, then you have to finish what is in your dish. That meant only one of us might have a good time each round. Final Destination for full madness.

We each received enough sauce to bury the ring ridge in the dish. The color reminded me of a roasted chipotle salsa, burnt and mottled, with a rusty, bright edge dappled by what appeared to be golden mustard. When mixed, it looked exactly like what you expected if a kid put together all his favorite colors and flavors into a muddy mess. I prepared chips and insulated my throat with omelet and grits when Owen wasn't looking.

All the same mains returned from last evening. If Kirby could survive eldritch nightmares and the unraveling of multiverses, then we could make it through this. First thing, I ran.

I didn't want any part of the initial beatdown. Unfortunately, as Owen recognized, Willow was out for the Kirbster's bright, amoeba blood. I contributed screaming and a Kirby impersonation declaring, "Peace and loooove..." No peace...

With panicked flight, I ran out of air and offed myself. I would be the first to sample. Fanning a chip across the sauce, I shut my eyes and took a soaked bite.

No smell occurred to me, nor did any harsh flavor across my tongue. I'd had anosmia during my worst bout of bedridden sickness last year, but I could smell the eggs and remaining fruit just fine. I was also back in the game, so I didn't have time to reflect.

I just chilled with my shield up as I waited for tears and sniffles. Eventually, it came but it was a slow fire. Not a wax pepper but more than a pepperoncini. Not as sharp and caustic as a jalapeño but undulating, like the lingering effects of fluoride toothpaste.

It was a refreshing burn. Warm but not intense. I had trouble finding words for it in commentary, defaulting to say that I was still waiting for it to "perk up" and I had to "stay alive". Despite all that going on at once, I actually managed to spike Amanda off the edge, and she got to experience it next.

"The crap? This isn't even as hard as a mild Taco Bell packet. This is savory more than anything." Her next sentence sounded like she wanted to make a drug joke, but she turned it into a quick mention of "sweet peppers" for the sake of family-friendly YouTube.

She asked me for my take, but I was over 100 percent and floaty, so I grunted and agreed. Owen's Yoshi was next to go, so he was able to provide his own context, remarking, "Oh yeah, BBQ at the Commissary was spicier. That should be reassuring to some of our competitors but pride is still on the line and let's not forget, some spices have a long tail."

Even though he said that, he flashed a quick thumbs-up in Harley's direction. I did need some water for the tingling, but it wasn't painful, more like a soothing mint burn in a peppery package. Sam was next out and confidently drizzled more than a third of his dish to taste.

"Awww...no fuego. Good thing we have Sriracha. This is like a tomato Andes after-dinner mint. Shoot shoot shoot. It hurts more in the game. Mama mia!" In quick recourse, Sam got KO-ed again and followed up the first shot with a little more, pronouncing, "I mean it's not bad but it's definitely like a two or a three out of ten." Amanda disputed putting it so high.

Ben's reaction was subdued but he noted, "I like it. Kinda sweet." Owen winced a little and did his best not to sigh. He focused on the match.

When Harley finally got to sample it, he noted, "Now this is more my style. Rather like steak sauce." He topped his eggs with it and looked measurably-relieved. From there, Noah took a drink from the dish and declared, "Come on, Memphis, even I find that weak!"

Willow, who lasted the longest without a loss, had a similar reaction to me, "Feels like watered-down horseradish? More aftertaste than initial taste. I could go for more."

Amanda was the first to go out, then me and Noah. Just drinking the sauce didn't toughen it. Owen fought Willow down to one stock after everyone else had been finished off. She managed to outlast him and get her Final Smash to win. As a good sport, she cleaned her dish.

Putting a cut in the recording, Owen resolved, "Time to bring out the bigger guns." He had all sorts of seasonings from cayenne to ghost pepper flakes. Everyone sampled first to make sure the strongest mix was penalty worthy. Amanda gasped as the flavor shot to her nose and she had to blow it. Ben coughed and rasped agreement. Harley just received a little garlic powder. Willow doused hers with Sriracha while Sam went for ghost pepper. I ended up with a feeling like a mint-swaddled yellow pepper. Owen put an ungodly amount of additions in his. It turned his voice into full, unadulterated Southerner when he got it down. Noah had a few tears and the competition was deemed ready to continue.

Because of the additions, some of our sauces risked cresting over the lip.

I got KO-ed again first but soon buckled down and fought defensively as my lips tingled. Harley ran into a brick wall of bad luck and soon had to down his entire dish. Everyone else tussled for a bit, trading percentages.

It wasn't long before I started to notice something weird. It looked like the TV screen was flickering. My old laptop had that problem because of a faulty backlight. I remembered Owen had small problems due to capture cards and, with the setbacks already, I didn't want to frustrate him even further. Then, I noticed the light through the side windows was flickering too.

A quick stab of concern hit me that the sauce was hallucinogenic. New Age place, with a hard-to-understand label, and a subdued flavor for a sauce. I glanced at one of my hands while still trying to keep up my frantic button presses.

My first thought was that Willow had someone put her hands where mine should be, no matter how impossible. But these missed all her little marks. The nails were still stubby but cleaner. I fumbled with the controller as my fingers seemed narrow but longer.

When I had to wear gloves around town all the time last year, they made my hands softer than usual, shielded against the eroding influence of the constant, local wind. They felt just like that, yet even stranger along every centimeter of flesh.

I'd never been through much of a visual hallucination, let alone one with physical feedback. This was going to torpedo my chances of staying in the game.

"Guys...I feel really off. Is..."

The voice came from Harley's direction, but it was way higher than Harley's usual tone. Throw in an auditory hallucination too, sure. Too high to be Amanda either and Willow was on the other side of me.

Soon, my arms felt like they were swimming in sleeves. Another glance. Usually, my arms bulged out past the wrist and just kept swelling till they met my elbow. Now they crested gently past the wrist and traced a lean, hairless curve into the sleeve. So, I was hallucinating weight-loss.

At least it wasn't insects or demons. Not that I wanted to invoke either or some combination. I was about to shield when the game paused.

I glanced in Owen's direction. From my perspective, Owen did not look anything like he was supposed to. His skin pulled back around his jaw, giving it a lean, pronounced definition. He appeared younger. But what struck my gaze was that he was touching the places that were changing.

More than just a burn, I instantly felt a furnace ignite inside me. My chest piped with flaming heat that wasn't painful but still felt like an open flame beside the trembling ice of my body.

Okay. Alright. I still. Not, not still. No, I stood up and turned to face the group. If not for the elastic in my pants, they would've fluttered and sunk to the carpet. As it was, they still clung to a desperately precarious position. My mind took whole paintings of snapshots about what was happening.

The rock of rationale inside my brain still gripped 'hallucination' like a frail life-preserver. My torso didn't bulge in any expected way. I was a shade of my former flesh in a bloom of cloth not meant for me. Well, except for the bold tickle spreading across my chest. I had floppy fat there before, sloppy spillover. This was something different, incomprehensible, but also familiar.

Breathing out and attempting to breathe in, very little of my flesh could fill these clothes. Still, the first unfamiliar reshaping of my skin along my fingers had spread from shin to broadened hip to toes to neck to shoulders to sunken waist. I was still inside my body but everything about it felt like nothing I could yet fully comprehend. That definitely sounded like a drug trip.

Using my lungs and mouth and nose to breathe felt like I had been transposed into another vessel, a smaller, softer, fundamentally-unusual reservoir for a mass of brain on the verge of existential panic. And I wasn't the only one.

Standing not only ignited the fiery fears that I might disrobe before all my friends, but revealed that my friends had plenty of confusion and shock to go around. In a few blinks, Owen's removed second chin had left him with a face clearly not his own and becoming frantically more feminine. His clothes were swaddling drapes that disguised dwindling dainty structures.

The room spun with screaming fireballs of warmth which begged the A/C to kick into a higher gear. Rationale rock marveled at the flagrant violation of physical laws from the reduction of mass.

Ben, like me a few snapshots ago, was lost on the slim shape of his hands while his clothes dangled everywhere but the twin peaks at his chest and a dent against his hips. Fair waves of glittering golden hair overwhelmed his shoulders. My own head felt overdressed in a natural coat but I was still checking on my friends.

I assumed I might see Willow and Amanda bulging and swelling to uncomfortable degrees but, despite their legs lightly stretching out of their pants, they didn't change so drastically. But they did change.

Amanda's features subtly resculpted, her face a long, narrow oval with a pinched-in nose, wide eyes, and a deeper tone to her light locks. Her thighs thickened but tightened as her arms followed the same change as mine. It pained me to say she looked prettier, especially with the growing tension at her chest, but I couldn't escape the obvious.

The scratching needle in my brain wondered how I looked in comparison. Still, stunned Willow outshone all. Her dark brown hair seemed like it had ignited into a pure, brilliant, hot crimson. Like Lady Fyda, only with more intensity. The rest of her appeared like classical glamour in clothes that downplayed her features. She had the leggy, lean stretch of a model trying to appear normal.

Another snapshot. Harley had become a child in the borrowed clothes of a parent. His dainty hands trembled as his pants refused to stay, even on a couch. His legs were still the biggest part of him but everything else had been reduced, save a cloak of dark hair draped across his back.

Noah's light, vaulting hair had also gotten a flattening treatment, but it mercifully stopped at his shoulder. His shirt was tight enough that any ambiguity about breasts was pressed aside. I could feel them too. I hadn't been left out. None of us had been left out.

Not even Sam, who, after a slow start, had a curly spill of pale-lavender hair, raising new questions for me as his tank also showcased his newest features.

Bracing myself against a cabinet while securing my pants, I watched as everyone apparently finished their transformations.

Harley, once a towering mate, with extra-dirty-blond hair and a face for fangirls, who had to cramp his legs to sit comfortably on the couch now had to stretch to plant her tiny feet with her socks slipping off. Ben, once and still the brightest blond with features like a famed comedian and a model's height also had her full legs fumbling to find ground in the middle of the couch, with a posterior that placed her on a soft pedestal, as she encapsulated the kid sister of Ben that had never existed.

Owen, the frantically-organized fake-armor thespian, had traded his Santa face for a tight jawline around fair, womanly features with accented, dark eyebrows peeking out of a frame of reasonable locks that all vaguely-reminded me of a young version of Dr. Fraiser in the original Stargate TV show. Sam, the swarthy and cool entertainer, who did what I couldn't, had become vaguely-goth with a light-lavender crest of crinkly hair cascading past her shoulders with the biggest bust I could see, precise eyebrows, and a fair face with still the most glamorous lips. No matter what I'd been burned into, I still felt a flame of jealousy.

Noah, the flamboyant personality with a prominent pompadour, had earned slim sloping curves like a banana but hair no crazier than Owen's while also shedding height. I was probably within an inch of being tallest, aside from the girls, who'd gained mainly in their legs.

We were all girls, at least so far as I could tell. Once fresh feet could be planted, the spell of stillness wore off and everyone reacted.

Sam recited a soft repetition of, "Dude dude dude oh my god dude" as her hands turned and touched. Amanda checked on bright, blushing Ben as her legs aggressively pushed her to her feet. Harley appeared the most shell-shocked as her body didn't seem to do any of the things she wanted it to do. Noah barely wanted to lay hands on herself while tussling with her own hair.

Owen, on unsteady but pretty thighs, braced herself with a mic stand and asked, several seconds behind where I was, "Is anyone else experiencing...umm...vivid hallucin....seeing things that don't make no sense?"

A cacophony of gestures and comments back and forth broke into a whirlwind of dispersals. Some crowded the mirrors in the rooms adjacent to the kitchen, others swarmed the half bath, a few attempted the main stairs, and Harley fell over trying to leave the couch.

I rushed to offer a hand, a far different hand, to her. She staggered because of her pants and I hoisted them up as she let out an unmanly cry drowned in a girlish squeak. I'd pulled the pants up too much and she was likely intimately-aware of a key biological shift I'd not yet contemplated.

A petite girl holding onto me still did something for my brain and biology but the apparatus had gone AWOL and its current replacement was sending feedback my mind hadn't quite figured out. On the stairs, Harley scooted at each step and dropped gingerly as she begged me to go slowly and sought the forgiveness of every small lady she'd ever walked with.

When we finally reached the ground, she panted and marveled. "Crikey! Everything is so much bigger." She fanned an arm towards the ceiling. Before, she could lay a hand against it while flat-footed. Now, no amount of flexing and ginger hopping allowed her to even graze it. She hopped till she brought an arm across her chest, the other still saving her pants.

Her face was so bright as she squeaked out an apology and shuffled to the adjoining bathroom, locking it behind her before I could say anything.

Humph, I kinda wanted to see myself too. The lamplight glinting off poster frames kinda cast my profile. A strange sight but I wanted more clarity.

Through the wall, I could make out Harley's whimpers as she fussed about "all this hair" and her "little legs" and being "so small". I considered exploring the weight on my chest but the possibility of a flustered Harley returning to that made me wriggle with embarrassment.

Still, glancing downwards, even in a top as ill-suited for self-spectating as mine, had a certain allure, like gazing enraptured by a riverside as time unfurled. Glancing further and scrunching my clothes to better trace my disguised outline also entertained me, all the while feeling everything across the bare span of heightened flesh.

I'd shaved certain parts on occasion but that only let me know more about the raw, slimy blob underneath. Nevermind when the pink, pus-filled prickly points of ingrown hairs needled across my skin and I had to painfully tweeze each and every last one into submission.

This skin, innately plush in ways only the abrupt juxtaposition of either version could illuminate, was not mine. And yet, it was.

My legs, trimmed and shorn, atop wiggly feet also held my gaze before I returned to the top.

Easily the most surreal sensation was the shape of my head. The muscles of my mouth had been incrementally transposed and shaped like sculptor's clay with indecisive hands reworking from scratch. My tongue curled further back in my mouth and my teeth felt like they had undergone the most intensive cleaning and refresh. Not a single spot felt sensitive as I sucked in a slow breath.

Breathing, weight pulling in twin places across my front included, felt intimately different. I was so much thinner that tracing my waist felt fun instead of depressing. My neck, trimmed like Owen's and velvety-smooth, invited me to quietly practice words.

"Hello. Hi there. Like fer sure. Totally. How're y'all..." The absurdity of those phrases emerging from my mouth and sounding like a fair, feminine replication brought an irrepressible grin to my face. The lock clicked on the bathroom door and Harley dragged herself back into the room. I slipped off my expression and asked her if she was alright.

"I'm...not in pain. Or even got the rumbles. But I can't make sense of all this...all this...all..."

She fanned a hand across her body while using the spare to steel her clothes against gravity. She allowed me into the small restroom as she settled down on the big couch, which completely swallowed her up.

Staring at the doorknob, I paused. I felt like I was at a threshold. Sensory traces, shadows, and silhouettes. I knew a lot about this body, but I hadn't seen my face. I could surmise it but this last mystery felt like a heady, infinite abyss.

Well, an adventure had to start somewhere. I squeezed it open and stepped through.

End Chapter 1 - The Outset

Begin Chapter 2 - The World Among Us

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