Ch. 1 – Rude Awakening
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Why the fuck was that asshole mowing his lawn? It had to be what, like 6am? Way too early to be making that kind of racket. I hid my head under the covers to drown out the noise along with the pounding in my skull. Moments into my ill-fated attempt to fall back asleep, my alarm went off. My ‘don’t sleep past one or you’ll miss the whole Saturday’ alarm. Dangit. I flopped  into an upright position, my head lolling forward as I let my body weight propel me toward my bedside table. I blindly pawed at it in search of my phone, missed, tried again, missed, sighed and bothered to actually turn my head to look and made a successful grab.

 

With the alarm turned off, it was time to tackle my next problem, which for the time being I was referring to as: what the hell how much did I actually even have to drink last night my head is literally killing me. I couldn’t remember a thing after we’d left the party part-way through to get grocery store snacks, and that was maybe only around midnight at the latest so there was a lot missing for sure. Wait, no, that wasn’t true. I remembered the cashier at said grocery store making fun of me for being a drunk idiot too, then we went back to the party and in the car I was insisting one of my friends try my snacks cause of how good they were and, shit, did I eat a cheesecake with my bare hands? Okay, well, besides all that, last night was just not there. Which really was a shame, because wizard frats threw the best parties. I probably missed all kinds of wild shit.

 

I trudged out of my room across the cold tile floor of the basement in which my room was located, and practically fell into the door in an attempt to push it open. It worked, but I nearly cracked my head open on the bathroom sink. I leaned heavily on the counter, and blinked weary eyes at my reflection as I adjusted to the fluorescent light. Yup, that’s me. I grunted at the person in front of me. Needs work

 

Balance regained, I shambled over to the toilet, mind preoccupied with self-critique. Definitely needed to stop being lazy on my upper body workouts for one; sure, I was cut, but I had a lot of bulk to go if I wanted to catch up to Dylan. Also, the hair needed fixing, probably could use like a product or something and it would be nice to do something about those bags under my eyes too, needed to tan or do something about the body hair, the pasty-ness and the hairiness were not a good combo. Also, why the fuck was I agonizing over any of that? Hangover is more important, brain, think about your less than stellar body some other time. 

 

My morning shower was, for the most part, spent standing directly under the showerhead, barely even moving. The hot water was pretty good for clearing my head. I finished, dried myself off, got dressed and took an ibuprofen, then ascended the stairs, hopeful that with some water and a bit of food I might actually start feeling like a person again. I poured myself a bowl of cereal and grabbed a banana, then flopped onto the couch to rest my head while I ate. Not five minutes into my breakfast, I heard the backdoor open and shut.

 

“Babe? You awake?” When did Olivia get here? Did she stay the night? I tried to find anything involving my girlfriend in my redacted memories, she was definitely there, but I had no recollection of her coming home with me. I groaned a little in response, but she didn’t seem to hear. Oh well, she’d find me as soon as she checked the living room. Only she wasn’t checking the living room, she didn’t seem to move at all, why was she just loitering in the back hall? 

 

“Okay, Trish, you still there?” she asked evenly. Wait, why was Trish here too? I definitely hadn’t seen her last night, and wasn’t she supposed to be visiting home and oh, duh, Olivia was talking on the phone. Oh well, nobody ever said hangover brain was good brain. “So anyway, after she told me all that stuff last night things got weird. I think she regretted mentioning it, we didn’t even have sex last night cause of the state she was in, which was weird cause normally she’s very eager, and now, just ugh. I’m worried. I just want to leave him behind so I can get to know her, you know? But I’m worried she’s too scared.”

 

Wait, what the hell was she saying? Was Olivia cheating on me? With a girl? And she meant to leave me for her? Did that mean Olivia was a lesbian? I’d definitely caught her stealing glances at pretty women in the past and, well, she did encourage me to embrace my feminine side all the time, so maybe she at the very least preferred women? And most importantly, what the hell was I gonna do about the fact that I was clearly listening in on a conversation I was definitely not meant to hear? Olivia could decide to come looking for me any second or head into the living room to take her call. 

 

Slightly panicking, and still trying to process my girlfriend’s admission, my brain grasped at straws trying to formulate a plan. Then, in a moment of clarity, I knew exactly what I needed to do, everything crystalized in my mind: the perfect plan. Setting my bowl down, I hurriedly grabbed both my shoes between my thumb and forefinger, then bolted out the front door in my socks. There was no time to waste, after all; Olivia could have entered the room at any moment. For good measure, I ran down the street and turned the corner before stopping to actually put my shoes on, just in case she investigated the noise.

 

Shoes on, plan formed, I marched ahead to my goal; it was a shame that my destination was on the other side of campus.  Oh well, at least Ebahrt’s College of Mundane and Arcane Studies didn’t have a particularly big campus, plus I could use the walk to sort out my thoughts. Speaking of which, I needed a quick mental recap. My girlfriend was planning on leaving me for another girl. Which I mean honestly, could I really blame her? I’d be downright excited for her if not for the fact that she was leaving me. Gay women were great, and not in a gross fetishy way, more in a “why would anyone want to date men anyway when women are clearly the better option?” kind of way. Honestly, straight girls deserved the world; I had no idea what they saw in us. Girls were obviously just the better choice. 

 

They got to be all cute and small and cuddly and soft. Also their voices were so pretty and they didn’t have to worry about being strong or tough-looking like guys did. Honestly, every single time I was in a room with another guy, it just felt like a competition. And I wasn’t about to let them win, so of course I had to be as manly as possible as long as I didn’t become a toxic jerk. It was exhausting, so really who could blame a girl for wanting to date another girl to not have to deal with all that nonsense? Point being, I couldn't really be mad at Olivia for wanting to be with a girl instead of with me.

 

Still, even though I definitely could see the appeal of swearing off men entirely, I definitely didn’t want her to actually go through with that. Or at the very least, I didn’t want her to break up with me. I’d be okay with Olivia swearing off men if she still stayed with me and -- wait, that didn’t make any sense, did it? I mean, truthfully, we hadn’t been dating for that long, otherwise I’d be a broken mess right now, but still, there weren’t too many women out there who would be willing to date someone as unappealing as myself. If Olivia broke up with me, who knew how long it would take before I got another girlfriend? And I definitely couldn’t stand being single. Call me a bit of a man-whore, but I really enjoyed sex with women. Well, pleasing them, anyway; I didn’t really see the big draw to getting myself off, seemed like a lot of work for not much payoff and I always felt weird afterward. But getting to go home with a girl and just luxuriate in her softness? It was amazing. I couldn’t do without that. 

 

Point being, I definitely could not let Olivia slip through my fingers because finding another woman actually willing to date me sounded insurmountable. Not that I was a bad person or anything. I had plenty of good qualities; I just called it how it was, and quite simply I just wasn’t very good boyfriend material. All that combined meant I really only had one option if I wanted to stay with Olivia.  It was plain as day and I’d need to go through with it if I didn’t want her to break up with me: I needed to make myself as feminine as possible to convince her to stay with me. Luckily I knew just the aspiring wizard for the job.

 

After spending several minutes lost in my own thoughts I finally approached my destination. I barged into the athletics building, power-walked down the hall, and rounded the corner into the gym. I scanned the room for my target; it was a good thing I happened to know his workout schedule.  Our eyes met. He waved me over.

 

“Theo, bro? What are you doing here? I thought today was a rest day for you.” Dylan was having a hard time doing his inside voice, which was not at all uncommon when he got into lifting mode. He was somehow simultaneously a giant meathead and also a very smart, well versed student of the arcana. And he happened to be my best bet at reaching my goal. 

 

“Hey, man, can I uh, can I talk to you about something private?”

 

“Yeah, dude, give me a sec.” He glanced over his shoulder to one of his workout buddies; despite my being a regular, I didn’t recognize him. Still, Dylan practically slept in this gym, it made sense for him to know literally everyone. “Hey, can you hang tough for a bit, dude?” His friend nodded, and with that we headed through the back door into the secluded lot behind the athletics building. Dylan leaned against the wall casually, regarding me with patient curiosity. “So what’s up, dude? You look a little off today.”

 

“It’s Olivia, man. I think she’s gay. I heard her talking to one of her friends on the phone, she was talking about leaving me for a girl.” I hung my head in defeat.

 

“Shit, man, that sucks. Need some bro time, then? I can cut my workout short and we can get beers or something.” He awkwardly placed a huge hand on my shoulder.

 

“Oh um, no, no, that’s fine, I need you for something else.”

 

“Oh sure, what’s up?” He relaxed a little, breathing a sigh of relief. Dylan was a good friend, but he was really awkward when it came to heart to hearts. That was another annoying thing about guys, by the way. 

 

“Well, uh...” I awkwardly looked down, scratching the back of my head and blushing a little. “I was hoping you could help me stay with her?”

 

“I’m not following, man. If your girlfriend is gay, how am I supposed to help? Do you want me to like, try and convince her to change her mind? That’s kinda creepy, dude.” His tone had a suspicious edge to it, not downright hostile, but certainly disapproving.

 

“What? No! I mean, I totally understand where she’s coming from, like who wouldn’t want to be a lesbian?” I sputtered out my reply quickly, feeling gross just for even making it seem like that’s what I wanted.

 

“Um, not me? So what exactly do you want me to do for you?”

 

“Well, I wanted you to use your magic on me?” Was he really not getting this? It was pretty obvious what my only option was.

 

“To do what? Make you more buff or attractive or something? For the last time, dude, I’m telling you this complex you have about your physique is super unhealthy and unrealistic. You look just fine. Better than fine. Women ogle you all the time. Also, that wouldn’t help you win over a lesbian.” My god, how could Dylan simultaneously be so helpful yet so dense? Also I didn’t have a complex. I mean, sure, I was strong and maybe kinda attractive if you were into guys for whatever reason, but Dylan was way stronger and clearly better looking. How could I not feel inadequate around that?

 

“No, of course I don’t want that. I mean come on, isn’t it obvious what the solution is?” Surely he’d get it this time.

 

“Uh, no?” 

 

“Come on, man, I know sometimes you can be a bit dense, but I also know that deep down you’re like super smart. How are you not seeing this solution? It’s right in front of your face: I need you to make me look like a girl so she’ll date me instead.”

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