Bullied (18+)

 

Chapter 8: A Fitting Form

After that eventful dinner, I knew Adam went on his way home to whichever neighborhood he was in, and after I had calmed down, I retrieved a much less churlish Mike. As promised, he paid for our meals and added a generous tip to the service before we left.

Just as planned, we drove off to pick up my prescriptions.

Mike did suggest we offer him a ride, but I think Adam -- and especially me -- had had our fill of ‘misunderstandings.’ He was quiet the whole trip to and from the pharmacy. I think he realized that either he’d fucked up or something had fucked with his head and he was confused about it. Either way, it was bad news.

That disrespectful and wicked pervert, I felt it had been pulling the strings on everyone who acted strangely today. That it was the reason behind all of this rude behavior. When I chased after Adam, I supposed Mike had regained control of himself.

I wondered, ’Does it only need to be nearby or does it need us in an emotional condition first?’ In either case, that meant this thing could influence us somehow. That reasoning made sense to me. The more I thought about it, the greater I felt certain of my suspicion about everyone I interacted with today being odd.

In chronological order, I started a list of those people who had either been weird, extreme, or just acting irregularly today. Adam was the first person I thought about. He had avoided me for years, and had done more than made himself invisible, non-existent, until today. He was being more than friendly with me, there was concern for my well-being. I was smiling, genuinely happy when he chose to stay close and speak with me this morning.

When he had the chance after school, he checked in on me.

While I had been at school, I knew Mr. Hillside didn’t have an ax to grind with me, but he tried to keep the fact I was sick a secret. I didn’t know what to think about that.

Then there was Mrs. Pureview… All year long, she’d been a bonafid hard ass until today. That there was a serious new level of persecution. It would piece together another clue to the little mystery of what happened in the nurse’s office.

For now, I had to be careful around others. Like Mike, because I wouldn’t stand a chance against him if that thing decided to get him in some kind of vicious mood.

Of course, there was that nurse who flirted with me in the clinic had been that thing’s fault. And I knew I would’ve been in trouble if my invisible stalker provoked the Rosalis family.

I worriedly thought, ’Is it having fun tormenting and torturing me? Is that why it is following me? Am I its plaything?’ It never responded whenever I tried to speak, but it reacts to my actions.

Thinking about that, I realized it had given me a hint that it predicted how others would act around me. Dr. Shrewsberry… No, even before him, when the nurse took those ridiculously high temperatures, it prepared and had its little fun with me. Afterwards, it did whatever it could to keep my mouth shut during that doctor’s lecture.

...Then Mike and this dinner fiasco.

Once we were home, I got inside and informed Mike I was tired and wanted to retire to my room for the rest of the day. And I truly was exhausted, but honestly, I had wanted to be a bit distant from him after the dinner.

Before I had gone too far, Mike asked, “Do you want to bring your medicine up with you to your room or should I leave it down here?”

“I’ll take them with me to my room, please.” To not appear to be in a hurry, I waited at the foot of the stairs for him. Once he handed me the prescriptions, I took them from him and made my inconspicuous escape up the stairs.

Before I entered my room, I saw Dad’s bedroom door was open. I didn’t remember if it had been closed, but for some reason, it now caught my attention. I walked away from my bedroom to close Dad’s door.

I had reached out and grabbed the doorknob, but I didn’t close the door.

Disturbed by what I saw, I walked into Dad’s room -- and into a complete mess. The police hadn’t just searched his room for answers, but trashed the whole bedroom in their hopes of discovering an answer. Like they’d find out why he’d disappeared by having every drawer to his dresser, each hanger in his closet, and books from his shelves dumped and scattered across the floor. In fact, some of the pages appeared to have been ripped out or the covers torn from their bindings.

I shook my head and mocked their logic by asking myself, “Did they think he was hiding between the lines?”

There was no way I would leave Dad’s bedroom like this. I thought about making his bed first, but I would need a place to set his clothes to sort them out. Most would need to be washed, if not all, because they’d been on the floor and likely trampled all over by an unknown number of investigators.

So whenever I would finish tidying up, I’d have to take his covers and sheets off the bed anyways for a mutual rinse and tumble in the laundry.

Time eluded me, but I could see the darker atmosphere outside Dad’s window. If the police had kept his electronics home, I would’ve had a means of telling time rather relying on the positioning of the sun.

“...Was calling them a mistake?” I thought about that aloud. It wasn’t like the police could track my dad into the depths of the fiery Hell that I visited. “Well, maybe they could,” I second guessed myself simply because I had been there.

But I didn’t know how to go back. The red papers were a clue, but I had no idea how any of those were connected to that portal. And the police made off with every crimson slip!

There was that second visit, even if it was only in my dreams. A nightmare, that was all it had been, so it didn’t count as a return.

That writhing abominable mass had spoken to me in my nightmare.

That was Dad’s voice.

“Maybe it wasn’t… I don’t know.” Again, I second guessed because I truly didn’t understand what was going on. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled and said, “Focus.”

For now, all my energy was being placed on repairing the damage I was responsible for in Dad’s bedroom. All the clothes were picked up and laid on the bed. They weren’t sorted yet, but I would get to that once I cleared the floor of books and torn papers.

There was no way for me to tell how the books had been originally arranged on the shelves. I just stood them up and fit them snugly into their new homes. The ruined books were set on Dad’s dresser.

“I might be able to glue the binding. Not sure what to do with…” Those pages were a lost cause. I had no idea what book they were torn from.

With a pained face, I looked over the books and papers as I realized I could figure out the pages’ origins by matching them with their ragged tears. And, of course, their consecutive page number would help.

But not right now. The book project would take awhile and I really was tired.

Once the floor had been cleared, I shifted my attention back to the bed. The clothes would have to be safely sorted into loads of laundry.

As I was into organizing the whole lot, I came across an outfit that absolutely did not belong to Dad. A black dress.

Holding it up by the shoulders, I gave it a once over and was convinced this wasn’t his at all. Even if my dad crossdressed, this was a size too small for him to fit. He might make an attempt, but I could envision him fraying the threads before he would be halfway dressed.

Being gentle with the dress, I neatly laid it down flat and across a clearing I made on the bed. If I was correct, this was a body conscious outfit. That meant it would tightly hug the figure of its owner.

The material was designed in a weird fashion too. At first, I thought it was lace, then I reconsidered how smooth and delicate the fabric fell. It had to be some kind of embroidered silk. But it was a thick material with intricate patterns layered over top of each other.

“Dad would tear this thing in half if he wore it,” I said to myself. “Mom’s?” That was possible, but as I thought about that, I silently mused on another observation.

Picking the dress back up, I held the dress up against myself and looked down. Before, as I was, I wouldn’t have thought of it being possible for it to fit me, as I had been nearly the same size as Dad. But after, as I am, I had endured a harsh trip into that Hell and came out of that inferno changed.

If I tried it on, I pictured in my head an image of the slim dress tightly clinging to every angle and curve of my figure. It would hug me in a way that wouldn’t leave anything to be imagined. The shape and definition of my body would either be put on display by the fitting form the dress takes or seen through the intricately designed layers.

But that was if I tried it on… If...

“It might fit -- ow!” Something shocked me. Then again across my fingertips, a cord of strangely black static sparked up between my fingers.

The dress was instantly dropped back onto the bed and it… ’It crumbled?’

If I had blinked, I would’ve missed it. For a split second, I saw a yellowish line quickly travel over the dress before the sliver of color disappeared. Then the black dress settled on the bed unnaturally. I tried to pick it back up, but as I touched where it laid, my fingers pressed, passed, and pinched a substance akin to a very fine dust. Soft, and it smeared across my fingers...

Ashes.

I didn’t know what to make of this, but I did know what I wanted to do right this minute. Before I get any more dirt on me, I should wash up. Especially before I started the laundry.

Before I slipped out of Dad’s bedroom, I pulled up the bed’s cover to contain the black ash. For the time being, I had placed it aside in the corner of his room.

Then I disappeared into the bathroom.

The major reason I wanted to shower was to be clean, but another had been to get a full look at myself in the mirror. I was changing and I had no idea what, why, or how. It could be that thing following and molesting me every chance it got. The world I entered could have done something. Maybe the ashes that were giving me a sinus infection was the culprit.

Hell, it could very well be that they all could be summed up into one. Or none. I didn’t know.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, I still could call myself a man, not because of my appearance, but for having the most important part of my anatomy to be identified there between the legs. If not for that, having a real good look up and down my bared body screamed effeminate.

“If no one knew who I was…” I lifted my chin and turned to look at all angles of my face. It had changed. My cheekbones were higher. There was a difference with my nose; it wasn’t really smaller, but the dorsal no longer had an edge to it. The same could be said about my chin and jaw. They were no longer pronounced with that fine masculine jut. More rounded.

The man in me had been sculpted away towards a feminine quality. It was like my face had once been the raw rough marble and now something had polished me gleaming soft, smooth, and sleek.

That mirror’s light glinting over my skin reminded me of what the doctor had said about sebum.

“Shower. Worry about this after --” I stopped and looked down, over, and around myself. “No hair?” I didn’t deign to check everywhere, but what I saw -- or didn’t see -- was any body hair. All I had was the yellow-blonde hair on my head. Now that I had noticed, I said to myself: “It’s grown?” It wasn’t long enough to worry about the bangs. I still had an inch before they reached these eyes.

On that subject, I took a closer look at my eyes. They appeared darker. Something about them -- the color was off.

Tilting my head back slightly, I caught the bathroom light in my eyes to try and get an idea.

Blinded.

“Bad idea.” Blinking, I decided that I’d investigate this a bit further by digital means. “Later,” I told myself as I rubbed the twinkled blindness out of my eyes.

With the pull of the shower curtain, I shut myself in and turned the faucet water onto full. After the temperature was right, I hit the shower on.

While I soaped up, I absentmindedly made a confusing discovery. Earlier, I was far too sensitive to be touched on certain regions of my body. Now was just fine. I could wash, rinse, and be clean without an issue.

“Maybe it was because of that thing always touching me?” After I said that, I felt a hot-licking flick of a finger behind my currently shampoo-y hair head. Going completely rigid, I stood and pleaded, “Please not now. I just want to clean up and sleep. Please?”

Silence was its only response. I sighed, and despite it being in here with me, I tried to continue my shower. My hands in my hair, I leaned towards the showerhead to rinse out the shampoo and quickly wash before it tried anything.

Again, I felt the hot body of the unseen figure behind me. It pressed itself fully against my back and embraced me from behind once more. This time, instead of it hooking its arms around my shoulders, it came from under my arms. Those hands and fingers, each branding me in some small psychological way as they touched, caressed, and brushed over the still tender burns on my flesh. I felt it hug me, press itself so tightly to my glistening wet back that I could feel the gracious curves on its chest being squeezed between my shoulders.

Thoughts of Erin flooded my mind. It had never occurred to me that I would think of her while with another. “Maybe it’s because you feel bigger than her?”

There on my jaw and cheek, I felt its response. That addictive breath being blown into the shower and me. As if to tease me for what I’d said, it started to play with my own chest in a manner like longing for me to have something actually there. It had to make do with flicking its intense heat and palms over my now very perky nipples.

In a single ragged breath, I pleaded, “Please stop that.”

Since I was being held in place and couldn’t turn around, I ducked a little lower to allow the shower stream down the back of my head. Funnily enough, and I had a soft laugh, I felt the creature get startled and jump against me. My imagination pictured it getting a sudsy shower hitting it straight in the face.

Then it burned me in retaliation.

It seared my flesh with a clawed grip. I threw myself back, crying out in pain and frantically trying to get it to let go of me. It did and I took my chance to get out of the still running shower.

For a few seconds, I had to figure out what it had burned. The basic sensation of pain -- much like touching hot metal, only it had grabbed me -- was centered in my chest.

Bent over, my arm protectively across my chest -- to keep the exposed damage it had done from the air -- I stared at the curtain in wait for it to come out.

“What the Hell!” Closing my eyes, I gasped once between panting. I had kept breathing like that until I could find a suitable rhythm to breathe that didn’t hurt so much.

A knocking on the door alerted me. Mike called through the door, “Everything alright?”

A quick lie came out, “Hot water. Steamy hot. Burned for a second, but I’m -- Hey, don’t come in!”

Mike had opened the door enough for me to see him go wide eyed. At least, I had thought he’d opened the door… He reeled back from the doorway like something awful had hit him in the face. I wondered, ’Was he being buffeted by a strong heat wave?’ I was in too much pain to tell if it was that steaming hot in here.

When he recovered, I was caught by his gaze just as I had turned away. Our eyes instantly made contact in the mirror. I stumbled one step to hopping back into the shower, but stopped in time to recall my false statement. ’He’d know I lied about the hot water.’

Immediately instead I dropped down to my knees, bent over and hugged into a kneeling ball -- with a care -- to cover myself. I was in a confused panic, trapped, in pain, and fear of what that thing would do next and how Mike might react.

“Hey uhm… Clint?”

“Mike!” I shouted down at the floor, my voice stifled from pain and embarrassment, but directed it at him to, “Get out!”

He ignored me and kept talking to my naked back. “You’re --”

“GET OUT!” This time, I screamed with an entirely new pitch to my voice.

I heard the door shut. There came a knock and Mike resumed speaking through the door. “You are -- Clint, are you on something? A, uh -- Oh, what is it called…” I had no idea what he was talking about. I was a bit busy recovering my manly pride here after screaming at him like a girl.

So, after I spent a few seconds to calm down to be recomposed enough to answer, I said: “I’m not on anything. Unless you count those prescriptions we picked up, the only things I pop in my mouth are vitamins.”

“Would you mind it at all if I had a look at those vitamins?” Even more confused, but seeing no reason why not, I gave him the okay.

“Go for it. Kitchen, by the cereal cabinet on the far left.” I wanted to hold a conclusive conversation with him after my episode. “Farthest left, not the one next to the sink. They are labeled with generic store brands. The orange prescription bottles are not mine.” After that, I dropped my hand from my chest.

“Thanks. Promise not to tamper with them.” That had not crossed my mind at all, but I appreciated the thought. I couldn’t hear the usual stomp of his feet on the floor over the ongoing shower, but I assumed he was gone.

That left me wondering if I truly was alone. “If you’re still here, I’d like to know what the fuck that was about. You hopped in there with me. Don’t get pissed because you got wet.”

Nothing.

It didn’t touch, breathe, or show any sign of being in here with me anymore. I hopefully thought, ’Maybe it’s gone for good.’ That might be wishful thinking.

Being unable to finish my shower sucked, but it was better being safe than sorry… or hurt worse.

Reaching in through the curtain, I shut the shower off. Slowly recovering my resolve, I remained tightly huddled on the floor and held myself close to my knees until I could stomach the pain in my chest.

“Fuck.” I wasn’t looking forward to drying my burnt chest and the rest of myself off…