Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Psychflare: Graduality

[Be forewarned, for reasons involving character development going wild, this one has a lot of profanity. So, y'know, don't read it if you mind that kind of thing. As always, notes in the comments]


April 10, 1995

I keep thinking the same thing every time, at church. Why am I doing this? Why do I keep going through the motions? Why don't I just say that I don't buy a word of it?

I keep imagining myself yelling that their God is a tyrant and they are scared sheep. Anything just to get them to shut up about it. I'm afraid some day I'll just snap and do it, break the mask, right in front of everyone. Or maybe I'm not afraid, maybe I want to do it, get rid of the self-censor. Who know what I want anymore.

All this preaching is getting to me, I can't even escape it in my sleep. Last night, I had a dream where I was talking with the devil. He seemed like a nice guy, but then someone interrupted our conversation. An angel, maybe. I don't quite remember what each of them said, I wish I'd written it down as soon as I woke up. Maybe I should start a dream journal.

April 13, 1995

Been having the same dream every night. The devil tries to tell me about something, then an angel gets in the way. What the hell is that all about? It's not like it's a bad dream, it's just confusing. I never get recurring dreams.

Almost got in an argument with Dad last night. He keeps making all these comments about depraved youth and all that bullshit, and I'm just going “You're wrong!” in my head. Can't be healthy to bottle that up, they say. Well, it's definitely not healthy getting in a fight you can't win.

April 16, 1995

Still the same dream. I think it's getting longer, or maybe I remember more of it. Satan tells me he's chosen me for something, then the angel arrives and tells me that I don't have to do it, that heaven's going to help me. And I say no, I don't want help from dictators.

It's been on my mind a lot, lately. I can't think of God as the good guy anymore. That's what the dream is telling me, that I'm no longer that kid. I've changed, and I almost didn't realise it. I mean, when I was younger, I'd have thought the very idea that God wasn't good was just a joke. Something nobody could take seriously. And then I grew up, and I couldn't help but think that every single thing about that story is screwed up.

April 20, 1995

Been feeling weird, lately. Might be sick, though it doesn't seem serious. With any luck, it'll be over soon.

Dream got longer again. I got to see the angel leave, last night, and Satan starts to tell me what's going to happen to me. I still don't know what it is, though.

April 23, 1995

My chest's been feeling more sensitive than usual. I'm almost certainly sick, but hell if I know what it is. It's not really bothering me, so I don't know I want to go to the doctor.

Dad can be an ass about that. “Don't be a wimp, tough it out” “If it doesn't kill you, it makes you stronger” and all the other anti-doctor claptrap. Worse if I go and find out it's nothing. I'll wait and see.

April 29, 1995

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm growing boobs. I'm fucking growing boobs. I noticed it today in the shower. Looked it up, it's a hormone thing or something. Just what I needed, another rant about fags from Mum. What the hell do I do now?

April 30, 1995

Again the dream. Satan said he needs me to be pregnant, so my body needs to become more female. What the fuck is going on in my head? I mean, I know it's because of the boob thing. But Jesus fucking Christ, I screw myself over enough when I'm awake, I'd kill for at east getting time off when I sleep. But no. Can't have decent sleep at all, not since the dream started. It still won't let go, same fucking dream every single night for what, three weeks now?

May 7, 1995

Something's wrong with my body hair. It used to be much thicker, now it's... I dunno, not. And falling very easy. Same with my face. I was on my way to building an actual beard, now I haven't needed to shave for a week. Another hormone thing, I guess. Shit, this might become more visible.

May 11, 1995

Satan said he needs me to give birth to someone. His words were, and I'm listening to them every night, so I know I'm remembering them, “I figured a pregnant virgin male would out-do a pregnant virgin female as a miracle”. He also said I'll be getting “a few benefits in exchange of all of this, don't worry”.

Seriously. Having the same dream every motherfucking night for a over a month, and my fucked up chest, and my hair, and who the fuck knows what else will pop up next. I can't think it's a coincidence all the shit appeared at the same time.

May 20, 1995

My face is changing now. It looks more delicate. More girly. And I'm pretty sure my hips are getting wider.

Nobody has noticed yet, thank whoever. Mum saw me right out of the shower yesterday, I had to wrap the towel around my chest, and she said nothing. I was sure she was going to start another “act like a man” speech, but nothing. Not even looked at me twice.

May 24, 1995

The only miracle in this situation is that no-one has said a word. My breasts (I hate writing that, but it's true) are visible. I know they are. I can see the bulges through my t-shirts. I started wearing multiple layers, keeps them hidden, but the other day I forgot when going to breakfast. I know they saw them, but they didn't say a thing. If they so much suspect I took a piss sitting down, they start the whole manly man bullshit, but nothing when I'm apparently turning into a tranny?

May 28, 1995

I though I'd seen the entire dream, but it just got longer. Satan says he took measures so nobody would think what was happening was unusual. The lamest rationalization ever, brain.

I can't think of anything that would explain all of this. I'm sure my penis is getting shorter, now. My balls are getting sucked into body. I'm seeing a doctor tomorrow, hopefully without raising any alerts.

June 2, 1995

The doctor had no idea what was going on. He said he knew of nothing that could cause what I'm going through, but that's not the weirdest part. He promised he would look into it, but when I called him back a few days later, he had no idea what I was talking about. It's starting to feel like everyone is pulling a huge joke on me.

June 10, 1995

There's no way I can hide the changes, now. My face is different, I'm shorter, I'm thinner, my fucking ass is bigger. Maybe I can still pass for a weird-looking guy, but not me. I look in the mirror, and I don't see me.

And nobody says one goddamn thing about it!

June 15, 1995

The pictures changed. All of them. Every single picture of me there ever was, now shows my new face. Even my ID.

This goes beyond fucked up hormones, or some kind of prank. I'm going insane. I'm losing my fucking mind, that's the only explanation.

June 22, 1995

If I'm losing my mind, I seem to be very selective about it. My grades have been improving non-stop the last couple of months, I've noticed. You'd think the shitty sleep and growing paranoia would have the opposite effect.

Still no reaction from the world. I'm keep considering yelling about it in public and see what happens. Then the halfway rational part of my brain tells me to shut up and keep walking. At least, I hope it's the rational part.

June 30, 1995

And once again I'm feeling sick. Christ, what now? Will I grow a second head?

A bit of good news, though. Improved grades mean I actually have decent odds of getting to a good college, or even qualifying for a scholarship. I could get the fuck out of here and deal with being insane halfway across the country. At least, around people who have never met me before it wouldn't be rubbed in my face all the time.

I'm getting ahead of myself. In the vain hope I'll be crazy but not mind it so much. Am I fucked or what?

July 5, 1995

I thought the general ignoring of the obvious changes was bad when I couldn't recognise myself in the mirror. I had no idea.

I was at school, just trying to go through the day without going crazier. I failed badly. In the middle of class, my clothes changed. Into the girls' uniform. I'm fucking wearing a skirt, right now. And of course, same at home. Girl clothes, in my closet. Even in my underwear drawer. Not a pleasant discovery.

July 6, 1995

Today just topped yesterday. Now, everyone's calling me Denise, like it's been my name all along. My old name vanished, just like my old pictures and my old clothes. The only thing that suggests that I ever was a guy is between my legs, and somehow I don't think it's going to last.

July 15, 1995

No more school. That's at least not bad. Right? I have one last chance to actually get into a decent university in a few days. Knowing my luck, though, I'll spontaneously vomit blood during the interview whenever I try to talk.

July 22, 1995

I got in. I fucking got in. I thought I wouldn't, but I did. I'm going away from here, to be insane somewhere else, where I don't have to wonder why Mr. and Mrs. Be A Manly Man haven't brought up the fact I'm a woman. It's almost like life could be not entirely shitty.

July 25, 1995

Last bit is gone. Last bit of my dick, that is. Full cunt down there. Great, ain't it?

August 1, 1995

Woke up, threw up. I think maybe dream Satan wasn't kidding. I really am pregnant. I've been putting on weight, lately, and now morning sickness. I'm not quite sure how to react to that.

August 3, 1995

Pregnancy test positive. I don't think I can just hope nobody will notice it, this time.

August 15, 1995

I was right. Mum and Dad wanted to have a very serious talk. I refused to tell them who the father is, for obvious reasons. They didn't like that. I'm pretty sure they'd kick me out of the house if not for the fact I'm leaving soon enough anyway.

They insist I go see a doctor, which I suppose is a sensible course of action, no matter who suggested it. I guess I'm just too in denial about this to take the proper measures.

August 22, 1995

The last week has been one long, awkward, tension filled silence. Word got out that I'm a whore, so I also get the looks outside. Sometimes I wish I had actual friends, but then I remember I hate everyone.

Doctor just happened to be the same I consulted last time. No memories of that, of course. Anyway, the baby seems to be healthy.

September 1, 1995

And I'm gone. New chance, right? Meet new people, let the old ones rot in hell. With any luck, I'll meet someone who doesn't think not going to church is morally equivalent to raping puppies.

Dreams have been Satan-free for three days now. What that means, I haven't a clue. Hopefully, something good

September 6, 1995

Roommate's nice. She's not batfuck crazy or a complete asshole, which alone would put her above almost everyone I know. But I mean she's actually nice in a reasonable sense, not just compared to back home.

September 13, 1995

I'm enjoying classes, which is a novel experience. Still not quite getting used to being treated like a girl, but it's different when it's not by people who knew me as a boy, I think. It has a different feel.

Being away from the family has been honestly great. I feel like I can actually breath without being afraid of pissing them off. Like a giant shadow was cast over me and then it left.

September 24, 1995

Roomie has offered to help me out once it became apparent I have zero concept of fashion or style. I think it just pains her to see me in jeans and t-shirts all the time. I still don't know how I feel about deviating from that.

September 30, 1995

This month has been, well, different. For the first time in years, I've been happy for days at a time. Weeks, even. Despite the fact the universe makes no fucking sense at all. I know I'm not sane. But it's less of a big deal, now.

I'm not terribly good at being female, and I'm not sure I want to learn. But now I don't have constant reminders wearing a bra damns me to hell, I can at least consider the possibility without a breakdown.

October 5, 1995

I indulged myself and bought a porn mag. Wanking with the new parts isn't bad at all. Do they even call it wanking? I should probably figure that out.

Bad news is, Roomie got all weird around me, I think she saw it. The fuck, did God notice I wasn't feeling miserable enough lately?

October 10, 1995

I decided to confront Roomie about it. Best idea I've had in a long, long time.

As it turns out, she's wasn't weird cause she thought I was a perv. It's because she's into girls and wanted to ask me out, but wasn't sure the porn was mine.

Seriously. I just... I don't quite get it, it's like karma decided to apologise for the last 18 years all of a sudden. All my life as a guy, nothing, 3 months as a girl, I get a girlfriend?

October 16, 1995

I knew this conversation was coming, but that didn't make it any easier. She wants to know about the baby. I told her I couldn't really explain why I don't know the father, much as I'd like to. I'm pretty sure she thinks it was rape or something like that. In a way, I suppose it was. I didn't exactly consent. She suggested an abortion, I don't want to think about what Satan might do about that.

October 22, 1995

My grades are going great. It's like I barely need to study now. College was supposed to be tougher, but most of school felt much harder. Whatever, I'm not complaining. More free time, and now that I have an actual use for it...

No sex, though. Not like we're saving ourselves for marriage, but I don't want to try anything weird while I still have the parasite inside. A few months, now, and then, we can fuck like rabbits. Those were her exact words.

October 27, 1995

Pregnancy had not been too much of load so far, which is one of the few things about it that isn't totally freaking me out. Lately, though, I've been feeling it. I'm trying not to exert myself, and stairs are no fun at all.

Someone actually gave me a seat on the bus, for the first time ever. It's not that big a deal, I suppose, but it sort of hammered it home in a way. It's weird. When I actually felt the bastard kicking, it meant nothing, but this...

November 1, 1995

I half-expected Satan to show up for Halloween. Nothing, fortunately. Roomie and I had our own private party, cause I can't really do actual parties right now. A few people showed up, there were shitty horror flicks, nothing extravagant. But it felt like being a human being.

November 7, 1995

Exams and classes and shit are being all absurdly easy. I'm helping other people out, actually, which is yet another new experience. I seem to “get” things instantly. I was tempted to call it the one good thing I got out of this deal, but then I remember the girl cuddling next to me. It was worth it.

November 12, 1995

Visiting the doctor a lot more regularly, now. Everything seems alright, but... hard to avoid the suspicions. The feeling that something needs to fuck itself up, and my body is the prime candidate for it.

After a lot of begging, Roomie finally convinced me to wear a dress in public. I still feel like a perv for it. I mean, I had to use skirts the last few weeks of school, but I didn't have a choice about it. Now, I can't shake the voice that tells me I'm doing it because I like it. Do I?

November 20, 1995

She doesn't give up. Now she wants me to go for make up. I'm not quite sure what she thinks about the tomboy thing. I told her my parents were huge assholes about proper gender roles, (true enough, if not in the sense I'm implying) and being all girly reminds me of them, but she's not buying it. For one, that doesn't explain how I'm apparently completely unfamiliar with them.

Of course, I wouldn't love her if she was the kind of idiot that doesn't notice that. But damn, can't she use that sexy brain of hers for other stuff?

November 26, 1995

Doctor again, soon this'll be over. I'm dreading finding out exactly what will be changed after I get the bloody thing out of my body. Will I switch back? Will I forget this whole thing happened? What?

To be honest, the thing I fear most is going back to my old life, unchanged. I only realise how much of a rotten piece of shit it was now that I have the perspective of what having a little joy is.

December 5, 1995

I'm wondering what I'm gonna do with the parasite after he or she's born. Adoption doesn't sound good, but I don't think I'll be able to raise a kid. Will I? Will my life allow it?

I don't even know if I'll have a choice in the matter. Maybe if I knew what diabolical (literally) purpose I'm fulfilling, but I don't. I hate this bullshit. I hate not knowing enough to make a choice.

December 16, 1995

The end is near. I'm fucking terrified, to be honest. Roomie's being helpful, she says she'll support whatever I decide. She'll even help me raise the little bastard, if I want her to. I don't think I can impose that on her, though. Whatever I decide, we've only known each other for months. Forcing her into a family with a kid that's not even hers... no, I can't do that.

December 22, 1995

“Oh Christ, what am I going to do?” That's the one thought running through my head. Quickly followed by “Christ had nothing to do with this, now shut the hole and deal with it.” Despairing can't help. Calm down. Calm the fuck down, alright?

December 26, 1995

Anna was born yesterday. Fitting, of course. I figured he'd planned that out.

And fuck, I love the little torture. I don't know how or why, but I'm keeping her. I don't care who tries to take her away. Roomie was there for me, she made quite a few wild promises to help get me through it, I'm making her keep to them. We have busy nights ahead of us, in many ways.


A new dream. The characters and setting are all the same, but it only appeared for one night. The angel looks at me, with impossible fury in his eyes, but unable to say a word or make a move. I can just feel the damnation coming from him, though. The demon stands before me, and we talk.

“So, what do you think, human?”

“I still hate you, motherfucking, goat-screwing, cock-sucking, huge fucking cunt. Want more?”

“Understandable, but I did keep my end of the bargain...”

“There was no “bargain”. You fucked me over and said you were throwing me a bone or two. I didn't agree.”

“Well, of course not! Nobody worth the effort agrees to a deal with the Devil. I have that reputation, you know. But, I did help you out. Got you out of your old life when you couldn't find a way”

“Only after driving me fucking insane. If I could bury my fist in your face...”

“Necessary sacrifice. I needed the right mind, with the right body, and the right soul. Of course, a perfect fit was unlikely so yes, I changed a few things to suit my purposes. Hate me for it if you want to. Now, question time. Do you want to keep your new female self, or go back to the old male one?”

“You piece of shit.”

“Say it.”

“I want to stay as a woman, ok?! Happy now?”

“Hehehe. I knew you would. I had my hand in that, of course, people are not usually happy being the wrong sex...”

“You fucked with my head?”

“Yes, I did, but you knew that already. You know where all the new intellectual prowess comes from. I just made a few more adjustments while I was there, tweaking your mental gender as well”

“Fucking scumbag...”

“I hate to interrupt what is sure to be a delightful stream of profanity, but there's one question left. This one, I promise I had no hand in. whatever the answer, it's all you. Now, I can adjust your memories. Remove the last few traces of who you were, the ones left in your mind. And, of course, of the true nature of your life and your daughter, all forgotten. Do you take that offer, or not?”

“No. Never. I just got a glimpse of how the world really works. It's fucked up, it makes little to no sense, it's nothing like what I expected, but it's a bit of the truth. I can't choose to give that up”

“Good. I did choose the right human. You can keep her.”


“I know you'll do the job the way I need you to. That's not to say I won't give a subtle hand, every know and then, but I need a human to help her become... well, no matter. Just, know that you're the right one. Anna is yours.”

“...thank you.”

1 comment:

  1. I learnt two big lessons with this psychflare: One, that I'm terrible about building that buffer I keep promising myself. Two, that I can write a lot more than I thought when I get my ass in gear.

    To elaborate: I finished Void 13 days ago. As part of Reflections was already written by then, I finished writing it in two days. The rest were taken in writing Graduality, which I finished yesterday. Yes, it's long, (the longest so far), but that's no excuse. Not to mention, about half was written yesterday and the day before. Maybe 4 days of productive work and all the rest just thinking, "oh, I have plenty of time", writing a few sentences at a time. Void was similar, actually, which is why I started the whole "every Wednesday" thing. I figured giving myself deadlines would be a decent motivator. Well, it was, considering all I got done yesterday, but still. I'll get better about that, I hope.

    About the actual story, well, not much to say. I'm not terribly happy with it, it could use a lot of rewriting, but right now I'm kind of sick of it. I'll go back to it once I get a rest and write other stuff.Maybe by the time I write the next part, set quite a few years later.

    But, in the meantime, next Wednesday we'll have a little thing in the vein of Taijitu and Chao, but not quite the same. At least, probably, as I haven't begun writing it yet.