DetectiveRed

I haven't put out a new chapter of Newly Not Cis, I'm sorry about that. I needed to get something out though. Not sure if there will be a schedule for this story but I just needed to post something. I'll try and update the other story soon. In the meantime, I'll upload a couple of parts of this. This hasn't been looked over by someone else so sorry for any mistakes.

I woke up hungry in a room I had never seen before. The lights were out, but the outlines of where my stuff should be were gone; there was no alarm clock next to my bed, no bookshelves lined with copies of the books that had comforted me, and no baskets of clothes I hated wearing. 

I stumbled along the walls of the room hoping to find a light switch. With a click, light flooded the room and I tried to adjust.  I tried to get my bearings; the size of the room was different from mine, the windows and the door were in a different place. It wasn't just that my stuff was gone, I was in a different room.

It wouldn't surprise me if Mum and Dad sent me away. I don't know how they would have done it without me noticing or waking up, but I don't doubt they would have found a way to get rid of me. Last time I remembered talking to them they hated me; maybe this was my punishment for coming out to them. I knew they wouldn't take it well. It was my only option though; I was suffocating under their pressure to be more masculine. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t pretend to be a guy anymore and I needed them to know that. Their reaction was about what I expected. They couldn’t handle the fact that their precious son was actually their daughter and they sent me to my room. I had thought about a lot before I fell asleep; a lot of it wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t that I remembered trying, but those thoughts were there. If I had died, I might not remember how. 

There were probably better ways to check other than slapping myself; it stung more than I expected but at least I knew I wasn’t dead. That was a relief. I wasn’t dreaming either. Whatever was going on was real. 

On the other side of the room, there was a desk with a laptop on it. I figured even if I can't log in to it, I might be able to figure out what time and day it is. If I was lucky I might be able to figure out where I am. I opened the laptop and was greeted by the unfamiliar reflection of a short-haired boy. The screen booted to the login screen before I could get a proper look at myself. It was 6 A.M; I had only gone to bed 8 hours ago. How had I ended up sleeping so comfortably in a bed that wasn’t mine? 

There was also the matter of my reflection. Why was my hair short? Did they cut it in my sleep? The only thing I could do to feel feminine, and of course I had to ruin it by coming out. I should have known it would be the first thing they changed about me. Why was I so hungry as well? Dinner had left me so full I could barely walk. I had made sure of that, in case they tried to send me to bed without dinner. Where did that food go? I felt like I hadn’t eaten for days.

The hallway lights were on, and I wandered through the house I was now stuck in. Walking felt weird. I felt smaller, which I wasn't sure made sense. Luckily the bathroom wasn't hard to find. I needed to get a look at my new haircut. Maybe I could make it look feminine. After all, some girls looked good with short hair. It was probably impossible for me; with my face, I would look like a man no matter what. I entered the room and tried to prepare myself. I usually tried to avoid mirrors at all costs. My eyes closed, I felt my way to the sink. I tried to prepare myself for what I was going to see. I knew my face; I had criticised every detail. The only thing I liked about my appearance was my hair. With that gone, there was nothing about it that was mine. 

I took a deep breath in. Preparing to see that jawline and caveman brow bone was necessary. I needed to confront that on my terms. The cute tomboy looking back at me was unexpected. I couldn’t put my finger on who she looked like. Maybe a celebrity? 

There was so much to take in. Watching her mirror my movements was scary but invigorating. Had I become the girl in the mirror? That couldn’t be possible. It had been dark earlier, I hadn’t even noticed anything. Looking down seemed to confirm it, I had breasts. I had always just assumed they were there before, but now actually were there. I could feel them on my chest. This body was clearly not one I went to sleep in: that body was so tall, last time I measured it was 6 foot, its shoulders were as broad as a football player’s, and its face was stubbly no matter how much I shaved it. This body felt so much more comfortable. Wave after wave of euphoria hit me. Everything felt so right. I felt whole. I could be a girl. A normal girl without any repercussion. No surgeries. No medications. Just a girl. 

The girl didn’t look like me at all, though. Her hair was a dark brown, her eyes were hazel, and most of all she was cute. This body couldn’t have been mine. This was someone else’s body, someone else’s life. There is some girl tomorrow who might wake up in my body. There was so much I needed to know. I went back to her room. What was her name? What was she like? Where was I? Her wardrobe seemed like the most appropriate place to look. There was a uniform, from the same school I went to. A good start to the search. I should be able to find her tomorrow, assuming she is in my body. There had to be more I could use to identify myself. If she went to the same school she had to have an ID somewhere. In the pocket of her school jumper, I found it.

Rachel Brown. This was Rachel Brown’s body.  I didn’t recognise her with short hair. At school, I used to watch her enviously. Her hair was so beautiful to watch. The way it flowed was mesmerising. I always wanted hair like hers. Trying to sketch how it flowed was always so much fun to try. I could never seem to capture it right. She must have gotten it cut on the weekend. No wonder I didn’t recognise her.

Guilt started washing over me. I was always envious of her but I never wanted to steal her body or life. I just wanted to be like her. Soon she would wake up as a boy and she would freak out and be uncomfortable and dysphoric and I would have to apologise. I had wished to be a normal girl but I didn’t want to steal someone’s life. I put the ID back and got out a uniform to wear. I had to go to school. Hopefully, my body will be there. There had to be a way to give Rachel her body back. 

The uniform was one of the most comfortable things I had ever worn. The winter skirts for our school were long and made of soft wool and actually getting to wear one was a dream come true. If I had been a girl this could have been my daily life. Living like this was what my brain said was right. Instead, I just had to survive until I could leave behind my family forever. When I find Rachel, I will go back to my body, and I will deal with the hellish transformations my body was going through. Until then though, it wouldn’t hurt to do something I couldn’t do in my old body.

I wasn’t sure this skirt was the right fabric and shape for what I wanted to try. There were so many videos of girls, who were a lot braver than me, showing off their first skirt and dresses. I had always wanted to try it. I was going to twirl. I tried to mimic the movements of those girls. Surprisingly, the skirt puffed up a bit. It wasn’t the same effect from those videos but it still felt so good. The fact that I could wear this, even for a little while, was a blessing. I fell on her bed, smiling. It was dizzying how right everything felt.  

There wasn’t much else to do before this dream would be over. Soon I would be at school trying to find Rachel and giving up this body. I had always wanted to try putting things in my hair, even if there wasn’t much there. I wondered if Rachel had any accessories I could try. Thankfully, there was a box labelled “hair stuff” in fancy writing. The writing seemed oddly feminine Rachel never seemed to be too girly, even with her beautiful hair. Maybe it wasn’t her writing. I ignored it, I wanted to see what she had. 

I opened the box, expecting to find hair clips and scrunchies. Maybe a bow or two. But there was nothing of the sort. Instead, there was what looked like a binder. I’d seen them while looking up trans stuff online, but never in real life.

 A binder likely meant this was not a girl's body.

I needed to talk to them. I needed to talk to Rachel or whatever their actual name was. I wouldn’t be too girly. I wouldn’t change their appearance and I wouldn’t be girly while in their body. I hoped they were okay in my meat prison.