Ms. October: Scared Dickless

Trigger #112: "The House of the Dead(Names)”.


Location Class: A haunted house attraction run by the Phi Epsilon Mu Sorority (Aka, the Sala City Witches’ Coven.) Enchanted with a very clever spell meant to “scare the masculinity” out of any wayward eggs by making them “scream like a girl.” Fun and festive.

Transformation Type: TG, Reality Change.

Threat Level: Benevolent. The Coven only changes those who truly wish to be changed (even if they don’t know it yet.)

Subjects: Rosaline “Rosie” Rivera, F, 20, formerly Ryan Rivera, AMAB, and Taylor Singh, F, 20, formerly Tyler Singh, AMAB.

The following is a biographical account of events based on the subject's own testimonies and several eyewitness accounts.

“Please. I don’t want to die a virgin.”

Those were the magic words that had sparked their desperate little tryst.

The air was hot and thick in their hiding spot. It was a little cramped (no thanks to Taylor’s new ass) but between the two of them, cozy. And most importantly, safe.

Safe from the giggling sorority girls dressed up like the Maneater Sisters, waving around their replica chainsaws.

Chainsaws which, as it turned out were identical to the genuine article, including the ability to transform men into women by violently ripping them open from the inside out.

But also, safe from the prying eyes of their classmates. Which in some cases, could be considered far more deadly.

Rosie pulled her fingers out of Taylor’s sheathe and her soft breathing hitched. After she’d wiped the slick fluids off on her leg, Rosie let out an embarrassing little squeak as Taylor snuggled ever closer to her, resting her head on her lap, her massive tits squashed against her hip.

”T-Taylor?! What are you doing…?” she asked, her face warming up as her friend curled up on her legs like an especially large cat.

"Getting comfortable, Rosie. I'm not going back out there until we're sure it's safe, and if I'm gonna die, I'm dying comfortable." Taylor said, nuzzling into her pillowy thighs.

"Rosie... Rosie... ROOO-sie... hmm..." Rosie let the new name roll off her tongue. She chewed the syllables, searched each letter for feeling. After they had been transformed, curvy, scantily clad babes birthed from the stinking skin-suits of their old selves, they had been unable to speak their old names. Whenever they tried, their new names came from their lips instead.

And yet...

"You know... I always figured I'd have been a Rosie... if I'd been born a girl, that is..." Rosie said, poking the air with the thought, carefully reading the room.

"Yeah, it's pretty, but tough too. Like Rosie the Riveter. It suits you..." Taylor purred, still rubbing her cheeks into Rosie's thigh flesh.

Rosie's face warmed again.

"Y-yeah?! Well-"

A scream pierced the air.

The girls jumped, their new assets following shortly behind.

"A-Are they back!?" Taylor said, shaking, burying her face deep in Rosie's chest.

"No... that sounded like it came from... here..." Rosie peeled her terrified friend out of her bosom, and walked over to a nearby painting. The eyes had been cut out of it. She lifted the painting off, and behind it was a double sided mirror looking out into the hall of the haunted house.

A couple ran through, a boy and a girl, laughing and giggling between screams, as one of the sorority girls chased them down. For a second, Rosie's heart leapt into her throat as the chainsaw blade connected with the boy's back. But instead of turning him inside out (and his outie into an innie) it simply sprayed the boy with pink confetti, and the two ran off, unharmed.

"Uhhh.... huh... but why didn't the chainsaw work on them...?" Rosie asked, more to herself than her companion.

"Maybe because... because that's the way they're supposed to be...?" Taylor answered, making Rosie jump a little as she took a seat next to her by the looking glass.

"Supposed to be...?" Rosie asked, confused.

Taylor didn't answer right away. She watched with rapt attention as another couple, two girls this time, jovially ran through the gauntlet.

"Could we... just watch for a few minutes...?" Taylor asked, a delicate hand resting on the glass.

Rosie looked at Taylor's face. Her eyes were much bigger now. Her hair longer, and her lips perkier (among other things.) But there was still something about her that was undeniably her old friend. The one who looked at everything with a sense of curiosity and wonder she envied.

She made a sort of grunting noise, nodded, and they both resumed watching the Haunted Hallway.

They started noticing a pattern. Clearly the sorority girls had rehearsed their routine, taking turns running patrons in circles. Most of them weren't changed like Rosie and Taylor had been. Just couples of all kinds running through a silly haunted house just for the fun of it. Some, though, were sawed clean in half by the magic chainsaws, revealing someone new underneath. Some were boys. Some were girls. Some where neither, or something in between. But all of them were undeniably...

"'For whom is the funhouse fun...?'" Taylor remarked to herself.

Rosie looked at Taylor as if she'd spoken in an alien language. Taylor giggled.

"Sorry, it's, um, it's a quote from John Barth..."

"John Barf?"

"No, BARTH, B-A-R-T-H, he wrote... nevermind..." Taylor's face soured with embarrassment, and she looked ascant at the floor.

Rosie knew that look. The other guys in the frat house gave Taylor a hard time for being a nerd. But Rosie respected her for it. She liked how Taylor actually KNEW stuff, admired how hard she was willing to work for it, too. She saw Taylor fall asleep at her desk one time studying for her English Final. She'd put a blanket over her shoulders so she wouldn't get cold, not that she'd ever admit it, though.

"No, don't... you don't need to do that. I'm not gonna make fun of you. Tell me about this Barf guy." Rosie said, putting a careful hand on Taylor's shoulder.

Taylor's deep, caramel eyes met hers for a moment, before they both looked away, cheeks burning. Still, Taylor carefully put her hand over Rosie's.

"John Barth. He uhm, he wrote 'Lost in the Funhouse'. It's a short story... One of my favorites, actually..."

"What's it about?"

"Well... it's a little... complicated... the story goes off on some metatextual tangents satirizing narrative structures and tropes in modern literature and... er... sorry I'm rambling again..." Taylor shrank into herself.

Rosie pulled her back up with a giggle. She surprised herself with how soothing and sweet it sounded. It was like music to her, or birdsong. "Hehehee, no, keep going, it's really cute- uh, I mean, it's cool how you know all that. You're really, uh, passionate about this kind of stuff..."

Taylor's smile was warm, and relieved. "Um, thanks! I've always wanted to be a writer, so I just, um... try to read a lot..." Her hand squeezed Rosie's as she turned to look back at the hallway.

"Right... so, uhm... there's this kid, Ambrose... and he's got a crush on this girl, Magda... and then there's his older brother, Peter... so, Ambrose, and his family, and Magda go to the boardwalk for the Fourth of July, right? And there's this Funhouse there... So, Ambrose, Magda, and Peter go inside... but Ambrose gets separated from the two..."

"Lost in the Funhouse?"

"Right, he gets lost... except he, like, ends up in a room like this one, where he can see the whole funhouse, right? And all the couples inside it... Including Magda and his brother..."

"Oh..."

"Yeah..."

"Fuck... well that sucks... poor Andross..."

"Ambrose. And yeah, it's sad, but then Ambrose decides... well the last line of the story is... it's kind of my favorite..."

Rosie didn't answer. She waited expectantly as Taylor took a deep breath to recite.

"'He... wishes he had never entered the funhouse. But he has. Then he... he wishes he was dead... But he's not... Therefore... Therefore, he will construct funhouses for others and be their secret operator- though he would rather be among the lovers for whom funhouses are designed...'"

Taylor's eyes were wet now. They glittered like diamonds in the cracks of moonlight that leaked into the dusty little room.

"It... It's sad, yeah, but it also kind of struck me as hopeful too, you know? Noble in a way. Like... Like if I can't have love... maybe I could help others find it... maybe I could help others feel it through my stories... even if I won't ever get to..."

Taylor pulled her hand away, wiped her eyes, and sniffed.

"Ha. Sorry. I'm even crying like a girl now, too. Please don't tell the other guys about all this? We can... chalk this all up to stupid witch magic and find a way to change back before anyone has to find out..." Taylor stood up and brushed her knees off, heading for the crack in the wall they'd entered from.

She stumbled to a stop when Rosie snatched her hand.

"What... what if I don't want to change back...?" Rosie asked, her eyes steady, but her heart pounding.

Taylor tried to pull away.

"C'mon, dude, we can't just be chicks the rest of our lives. What will the other guys think?" Taylor murmured. There was defeat in her voice. Years of being pounded down like clay, crammed into a mold she would never fit. Rosie knew that impossible pressure too, in a way.

"Who cares what they think? They can't even read at a fifth grade level!" Rosie sneered. Then, her expression softened, and her fingers interlaced with Taylor's.

"I think I could... maybe live like this... being a chick... that is... as long as you were... uhm...

...you know, my girlfriend or whatever..." Rosie mumbled.

"Wh-what was that?" Taylor asked, blinking her long eyelashes in surprise. Either she didn't hear, or she didn't believe.

"I SAID WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME, BITCH?!" Rosie spluttered out, her face the same shade as her costume.

Taylor was stunned, of course.

"But... why me? I mean, desperate 'Make A Wish' Death Sex is one thing, but you couldn't possibly actually want a nerd like me? You could do SO much better, I mean... look at me, dude..." Taylor held her arms out, gesturing to the very self she held in such low standards.

"I'm looking. I'm looking at a really cute, curvy girl who says words I don't always understand but says them with a smile wide enough I can't help but care."

Rosie took a step forward.

"I'm looking at a girl who works her AWESOME ass off so she can do what she loves, even if other people don't get it, or make fun of her for it..."

One more step. They were close enough to feel each other's breath now. Taylor's generous chest pressed lightly against Rosie's as she took hold of her arms.

"I'm looking at a girl who makes me wanna build funhouses, too... or... whatever that means..."

She took Taylor's hands.

"I'm looking at a girl I... REALLY wanna kiss right now... if she'll let me..."

A tear rolled down Taylor's cheek. She never thought that someone would pick her.

She never thought she would be among the lovers.

Their lips touched. They tasted each other's fruit flavored lipstick, breathed each other's hot breath. Rosie trapped Taylor's arms above her head, pinned her to the wall, and greedily sucked at her neck. It was DEFINITELY going to leave a mark, but neither cared.

Taylor screamed, only this time, it wasn't a fearful scream, the kind of shriek that you hear in a horror movie.

It was warm, and light, and interspersed with bouts of giggling.

It was a lover's scream.

From the desk of

Mira Alcott

Head-Mistress of Transformations

(Special thanks to TashaTheWitchQueen for the suggestion, to my Test Readers, and to all of you for your support!)