September 4, 2015 by Lyn
What else should I be?
“What? No!” Ty looked stunned for a moment, almost angry, and Jamian worried he’d finally pushed it too far. Ty’s expression slid from stunned to thoughtful, and Jamian’s fears slid, too, worrying that, now that he had explained the horrible truth to Ty, that things would change, would end. “Well…”
This was it. Once he knew that this was all just a hormone stew messing with his head, Ty wouldn’t want anything to do with Jamian anymore. He braced himself for the impact, willing himself not to cry. ”I guess I have been a little up and down lately,” Ty allowed, speaking slowly, “kind of, yeah, hair-trigger. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You’re the only boyfrie- significant other, or Keeper, or anything, I’ve ever had,” Jamian answered, a little numbly. ”I don’t have anyone to compare you to.”
“I… oh.” Ty blinked. “Yeah. I forgot.” He shook his head. “Sorry. Well, um, I guess I’ve been sort of weird for the last few weeks, maybe not myself. Shiva would know better than I would.” He caught sight of Jamian’s face and stopped. “Sorry,” he said again. All the apologies were just making it worse; Jamian wished he’d get to the point, rip the band-aid off.
“What I’m trying to say,” he started again, and stopped again. Jamian, pushed beyond endurance, finished the sentence for him.
“Is that you let your hormones get the best of you.”
“Because you weren’t expecting them. You’d never been pregnant before.”
“And you acted in ways that you wouldn’t, normally, and said things you wouldn’t, normally.” It felt like driving nails into his own hands, but he loved her too much not to help her through this.
“Yeah.” She bit her lip hard. “Pretty much.”
“Like picking up a messed-up whatever-the-hell-I am, when you really want nothing to do with the Daeva.”
“Ye… no!” She glared at him, and he found himself shrinking against the bed. “No, of course not! How could you think such a thing?”
Her anger was more chagrined than irate, leaking out of her like little flames. He would have loved to take her answer at face value, but it didn’t sound true. “Because it’s true.” He kept talking before she could interrupt. “You said it yourself: You’ve been weird for the last couple weeks. You don’t like Daeva. You don’t know what’s come over you. I mess with your head.” He laid her words out like testimony to his own death sentence, and she flinched with every line.
“That’s not what I meant!” She covered her face with her hands. “I just… I don’t know.” Her knees went up to her chest. Jamian stared at her in perplexed horror. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. “I didn’t mean I don’t like you,” she whispered through her hands and legs. “I just… I don’t know.” A muffled sob escaped.
“Hey,” Jamian tried awkwardly, “come on. It’s okay.”
She sniffled without looking up. “How can it be okay, if you think I want to get rid of you?”
“Well,” he said slowly, wondering if logic would do any good at all, “you don’t, do you?”
“No!” She looked up at him over her knees. “No, of course not. I- I like you, Jame’. A lot. And just because I’m not really sure what to do about this Daeva thing…”
“Well, that’s two of us,” he answered dryly. “I don’t have any idea what to do about anything here.” He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “But we’ll figure it out, okay?”
She shook her head, and the hope that had been slowly climbing dropped again, leaving his stomach twisted. “Are you sure?” she murmured.
“Not at all,” he answered frankly, “but I’m willing to try until I am sure.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “But, Jame’, I’m a mess.”
“Me, too,” he answered. “Come on. You have to decide what I’m going to wear. Um…” He concentrated for a moment on one of the tricks Joff had been hammering home, putting his Mask in place. “Here, now you can take a nice guy to the dance, instead of a slightly freakish Daeva hermaphrodite.”
“But I like my freakish Daeva hermaphrodite.” She looked up anyway, smiling a little through the tears. “That’s a good Mask, though.”
“If you turn out to be better at that than me, too, I’m going to be annoyed.”
“Not gonna happen,” he answered firmly. “Joff and Ivette say you’re the best they know at Masks,” which explains how easily you gender-swap, “and it takes all I have just to put one up that looks like me.”
“Well, mostly like you,” she grinned.
“Mostly?” He patted himself subconsciously, and looked for her mirror. He looked like himself, didn’t he?
She walked up behind him, the sway of her hips undeniably feminine, her boy-Mask shifting to her girl-Mask as she walked, as if she were refining herself into a different person, painting makeup on by force of will alone. She stood behind him, close enough that he could feel her breasts against his back, her lips against his neck.
“You look like you.” Her breath was warm and sweet against the back of his ear. “But a little more you. More Jamian, less…” she hesitated. “What do we call the girl in you?”
“I look girly, normally?” He frowned at the mirror. Sure, he didn’t have facial hair, but that didn’t make him a girl.
She ran the side of her hand down his jawline. “You look like a hermaphrodite, normally. Male, but with an underlying female. But your jaw is firmer now, here, and-” her other arm wrapped across his chest “-I think your shoulders are a bit broader. It’s a nice look. I’d like to see what the other side of your Mask looks like, too.”
“The other side?” he stalled. “You know what my horns and tail look like.”
She pressed herself closer to him, her hand and arm pulling him right against her. “Your girl side,” she whispered. “What do you look like as a girl?”
“I don’t know.” He wanted to be annoyed, but she smelled so very nice, and she was so close to him. “Is your smell part of your Mask?”
“Changing the subject,” she scolded gently. “Some of it is Mask, some is just the scents I wear.” She sniffed the side of his neck. “Is yours all soap?”
“Yeah. But you smell nicer than I do.”
“Thank you, dear.” She smiled at him in the mirror. “Can I see your girl Mask now? Can I see Jamia?”
“Jamia?” It sounded strange in his mouth. “Like Tya?”
“Or Jia,” she said thoughtfully. “You’ve never thought of what you’d call yourself as a girl?”
“I’ve always hoped it would go away some day,” he answered, a little more frankly than he’d intended. “I mean, until I met you, it never occurred to me to ever pretend to be a girl.”
“Jamita?” she tried. “But you’re not pretending, Jame. Jemma? You’re half-girl, and you have been your whole life.”
“I’ve had an extra set of junk my whole life. But I’ve always been a boy. Jemma’s my cousin.”
“It wouldn’t hurt, just here with us, to see what it would be like, would it? Mia?”
“Mia.” He looked at her in the mirror, not quite looking at her own reflection. “Short for Jamia, I guess?” He glanced at his chin, still held in her hand. Was it firmer than normal? “I didn’t try out any other Mask. Joff said most people just learn how to Mask as themselves – the way they looked before their Change, I mean?” He hesitated for a moment. “Doesn’t Shiva call you Tya-Mia?”
“Oh, yeah.” She snuggled against his body, her hair hiding her face. “I guess that wouldn’t work then. Try the Mask for me?”
“Jaya. Short for Jamia.” It sounded tomboy-ish enough, although the terminal “a” was damning. “Don’t laugh if it looks silly?”
“I won’t laugh. But it won’t look silly.” She rested her pointy chin on his shoulder and smiled brightly at the mirror.
“Okay.” The concept of a Mask wasn’t that hard; to put up the “normal human boy” face had just taken a sort of mental click and a strong picture of what he looked like. Regardless of what he’d said to Tya, enough of his nightmares had featured himself as a woman that the image was already there.
Not the giant tits of his worst nightmares, but reasonable protuberances that were still undeniably breasts and not pecs. A waistline, girls had waistlines. Longer hair, and softer, right? Fuller lips.
“Oh! Oh, nice.” Ty’s pleased exclamation made him open his eyes. “Oh, Jame’… Jaya, you’re lovely.”
“I…” He looked at himself – at herself – in the mirror. “I think I got the hips a little big?” she tried, running her hands over her jeans. “My pants don’t fit right anymore.”
“I have a skirt that will fit. And I think you got them just right.” Tya hurried to her closet and began rummaging.
“A skirt? I’m fine with the tight jeans!”
“How about a kilt?” Tya waved something in red plaid. “Ooh, and here, I have a shirt that goes with that.”
“A kilt?” She bit her lip. “I guess I can do that.”
“My bras won’t fit you. That’s okay though. Here.” She passed a handful of clothes over. “I’ll be a good girl and turn my back.”
“Thank you.” She turned her back, too, on the mirror, stripping off her jeans and shirts and, as quickly as she could, throwing the new clothes on. The shirt buttoned strangely over her breasts, but it seemed to close fine. “I think I’m done.”
Tya turned around and gave her a lascivious once-over. “You look adorable. A pair of Mary Janes and little eyelet socks and you’d look like the world’s sexiest schoolgirl.”
“Thanks?” she gulped. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Absolutely wonderful. Oh, Jaya, I want to take you to the dance like this.”