One: Catatonia

Consternation overwhelms my senses. What the hell just happened? It feels like a ‘Twilight Zone’ episode where laws of physics are non-existent! I look around and see an L-shaped room filled with reddish wood. The floor, the walls. Everything. Pleasing to the eye, but I have no idea what is going on. I remember sitting in front of my laptop and reading something about global warming on CNN.

Global warming, another religion. The universe is far more complex than some ‘emissions’ hither and thither.

Anyhow, I simply cannot describe the way I feel. What the hell?

And then I notice it. A small piece of paper in front of me. I can see something is written on it. My inner curiosity gets to me and I pick the paper up.

STEP 1: Step with your heel down first, then let the sole follow quickly and smoothly.
STEP 2: Walk with your toes pointing straight ahead or as close to straight ahead as possible.
STEP 3: Swing your arms as you walk for balance.
STEP 4: Keep your legs straight, close and parallel.
STEP 5: Take smooth, even steps; consider shortening your stride a bit.
STEP 6: Avoid walking on ice, slush, mud, grass, sand, gravel and grated surfaces, on which you can slip or sink. When in doubt, take off your heels and carry them across such questionable surfaces in your bare feet.

“What the fuck!?” I consider myself to be an open-minded individual but this is simply too random.

Literally and figuratively.

I hear a very unpleasant cracking sound which almost forces me to cover my ears. A Caucasian boy enters the room. He appears to be around ten years old.

“What’s happening, what is this place?” I ask him calmly – and that fact surprises me.

“It appears that interference has occurred” the boy answers in a scientific manner. “Your idiolectic reality has connected with mine. Unfortunately for you, this is my reality so I get to make the rules.”

“This sounds like something that I’ve been writing about …” I answer. “I still don’t get it, what is this piece of paper about, wha  …”

“Just look at you” his answer is marked by a tinge of sardonic pleasure. “I think it should be obvious by now?”

I pause. What I see and what I feel cannot be adequately expressed so I will not attempt to do so. I will only provide you with a simulacrum. I look down and I see white fluffy feathers spread all around me. I am unsure what to make of this, I simply cannot process it. My mind might not be as open as I have previously assumed.

“Take a look in the mirror” the boy says and points to the left. My eyes follow his finger and – out of nowhere – a rectangular Venetian mirror is just standing there.

“How …”

“Just look in the mirror, that’s all I’m asking for” the boy reiterates his request in a calm, scientific manner.

What I see cannot be true. It can be true in fiction but what if …? I see a white female, her age I would estimate to be around eighteen. Her hair is long and blonde. Her eyes are blue. She looks Scandinavian and – for some reason – I think of the Aryan race when all of this is happening. She is wearing a short red dress with white fluffy feathers at the bottom … plus big black chunky high heels.

“My apologies, Paul.” The boy is just standing there, in front of me.

“What are you apologizing me for?” I answer as inner consternation is beginning to devour me again.

“Well Paul” the boy continues with a smile on his face. “This is not just some female – this is you.”

“What!?”

“I do realize that - despite your open-mindedness – your identity is very much fixed. Your brain still thinks you are Paul, a twenty-three year old white man. See how powerful your mind is? You do not even want to admit that you sound like a girlie now. You will, though. Just give it time.”

I do not respond. This is too much for me. I feel as if all of my senses have frozen.

“In approximately two minutes nuda veritas will hit you” I hear his confident voice attacking me.

Two minutes of deafening silence just whizz by.

“Stand up” he tells me as I slowly get out of my inner bedlam. Not knowing why, I stand up.

“Now, look in the mirror” I hear.

I have no idea why, but I do just that.

“Tell me Paul, what do you see?” a sarcastic note can be detected in his voice yet again.

I am seeing something that I can no longer deny. It appears that I am very tall as far as Earthly
standards go. White fluffy feathers start around my waist and extend to the middle of my thighs. This pretty much can be summarized in one word: a young Mrs. Claus straight from
Scandinavia … without any Jewish features at that.

“You should be grateful that you have been given chunky high heel pumps plus the appearance based upon my understanding of the golden ratio” he says as if wanting to show mercy but then his tone turns to doom and gloom.

He sighs and states:

“I’m afraid that I’ve got some bad news as well.”

I am on the verge of catatonia.

“You see, the dress is pretty much cursed. No, not pretty much. The dress IS cursed. The same applies to the heels” the boy says and moves toward the mirror.

He leans against it.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what the curse is about?” he continues.

“I think you’re about to tell me anyway” I respond, staring at the reddish wooden floor.

“Nice girlish voice you’ve got now.” He nods as if encouraging me to accept my new role. After three nods, he returns to the subject of the cursed dress. “I’m in total control of this reality but this does not mean that I would want you to suffer. You see, all I want is a girlish touch to take care of me and my place. Nothing more. This is why you do not have to concern yourself with trivial matters such as food, sleep or bodily functions. Still, I regret to inform you that for my support there is a price to pay. Would you like to know what the price is?”

“Yes” I nod as if prompted by some sort of Pavlovian response.

“The dress will remain on you for eternity” he tells me with a smile on his face. “Though I could always make the feathers yellow? This is YOUR dress, after all, and I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

This is too much. His eyes are facing my waist. I make a sound to attract his attention and as he looks up to see what is happening, I look him straight in the eye.

“ETERNITY?! THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE, YOU’RE TELLING ME I’M SUPPOSED TO REMAIN LIKE THIS FOR KEEPS!? THIS GOES AGAINST ANY SOUND SCIENTIFIC PRINCIPLE I’M AWARE OF!” I start a cavalcade of gesticulatory moves.

“Oh, aren’t you simply sweet!” he throws his hands in the air. “Awesome, your psyche is
transmogrifying too, soon the sequence will be completed!”

Here I am – girlified and at the mercy of some entity that has child-like qualities and infinite power at its disposal. This is worse than any horror I have EVER seen! Unless I can think of something – I am screwed. Hopefully in a figurative sense only.

“Yes, I want you to be like this forever!” his body language overtaken by exhilaration. “Impossible is nothing!”

“Why me, why didn’t you obtain a genuine female?” I ask the entity.

“Your bad luck, something has happened to reality interweavement and you ended up here. As I’m not gay or anything like that and I have come to appreciate the girlish touch and charm, then how could I resist? You know, I’ve been waiting for someone to come here for a very long time … I cannot just snatch whatever I want, even if this seems contradictory as I am seemingly omnipotent. So when you have appeared in my girlification room, a powerful surge of bliss has simply permeated my entire being!”

“You’re going to keep me here just like that, no crise de conscience, nothing at all?” I inquire and implore simultaneously.

“Always look on the bright side of life!” he exclaims happily. “No more sleep, no more bodily problems, always clean, always perfect … what more is there to desire? What more is there to crave? Oh, and one more thing that you might find THE most important!”

“What would that be?” another Pavlovian response.

“You’ll become THE expert when I comes to walking in high heels, you know how hard this is! You’ll be giving lessons all the time, I’m telling you! Just look at all your nice fluffy white feathers extending to the middle of your thighs, isn’t that simply … pretty?”

At that point I am unsure whether this ‘boy’ is a nutcase or perhaps all of this is just a pretence, a smoke and mirrors game to break me. Whatever the case may be, a plan needs to be devised. I am unsure if he can read my mind or not but even if he can, I must do something to gain this entity’s trust.

“I will leave you now, practice walking in high heels” the boy says and snaps his fingers two seconds later.

“Or – better yet – just wait for your mind to adjust and you won’t even have to practice.”

Suddenly – out of the blue – bugs start to materialize all over the room. I squeak and cower in a corner.

“Perfect girlishness” the boy utters a sentence with a smug expression on his face. “Cowardice, focus on appearance and lack of perseverance. Even your ancient Greeks knew that.”

A second later he is gone. No magical sounds, no magical effects. Just gone. There is no telling when he is going to come back. There is no telling what is going to happen next.

Two: Fear Not, My Fair Maiden
           
I crouch and look at my feathers. I can no longer see my high heels which is good because they are squeaky clean and tend to be very … reflective in nature. Not to mention the surface itself … not to mention the mirror. This is akin to a PSYOP where everything has been designed to remind you of who you have become!

I am humiliated beyond belief, remain on the verge of catatonia but I keep reassuring myself that no one can see me, no one is around me. With stimuli bombarding me, I have managed to keep my sanity. Despite my inner turmoil, I am perfectly aware that the entity might be behind my artificially-induced sanity. I just do not think I would be able to handle it without slipping into madness, though – they say – humans are capable of miraculous feats. Whatever the case may be, I can feel something pushing my feet forward … how is that possible? How can I actually be crouching? How is it that I do not even sway? Plus, the surface is slippery. I mean, what the f ...? I can’t even swear anymore!

My desperate analysis gets violently interrupted by a bright flash of flight, very similar in nature to that used by alien abductors. I will not use the word “hypothetical” as I am no longer willing to dismiss any possibility after my girlification by a malevolent extradimensional entity. I have no idea what is going on, all I do know is that I am in trouble.

The flash is gone. Not a trace. Not knowing why, I am still crouching. Suddenly, I feel a strange tingling sensation.

“Oh, hello there tall blonde pretty missy” the dreaded voice is heard by my unfortunate self. “How do you like the meadow?”

I flinch at his “missy” comment but then an image depicting his power returns to my mind. I decide to drop it – for now! – but humiliation is beginning to pair with extreme anger.

I look around while struggling to keep my hair in order. A little breezy here. I cannot help but
conclude that he is right. We are in the middle of the meadow. A big one at that. The weather is pretty nice (I must focus on the positive right now), not a single cloud visible in the sky, a little breezy. But then again, where else would we be? He has created all this, after all?

Somehow I have forgotten about the sensation for a while. Must be the shock again. He senses my “realization” and tells me in a facetious manner

“I’ve taken away your underwear. Hope you don’t mind. You’ll get used to that tingling of yours.” I swear all I want to do now is to use my high heels the way they are not meant to be used.

“Calm down, sweetie” his sarcasm is hard to miss. “You’re too far away, and mind … the bugs!”

Terror gets to me again. Psychological paralysis. He is right. I just noticed that! I clench my fists and ask him – politely – what is it that he wants from me.

“You’ll find out soon. Very soon” and he simply disintegrates.

I will not crouch THIS time. There is grass all around me, so thank you very much. It scares me because the latter is a rather girlish statement! Five minutes … gone with the wind…ten minutes…

***

I notice a figure on the horizon. The figure is blurry and the Sun (or whatever the case may be) is not helping. Eventually, I am able to discern the shape. Consternation overwhelms my senses just as in the beginning of my ordeal.

A KNIGHT ON A WHITE HORSE!?

This is getting ridiculous. If I could just take one of my heels off, I would somehow use it to kill myself. But I can’t! I can’t do anything! This malicious being has analyzed EVERY scenario!

I want to run. Run and scream. Squeak. Whatever. The knight is now RIGHT behind me. I can hear the horse’s hooves.

“My fair maiden” he asserts with a posh English accent. “Please accompany me to the tower.”

“Excuse me?” I reply, eyeing his helmet. Then the horse with a cross-like covering. Similar to the Teutonic Knights, actually … Crosses on their backs and all.

“You are to be called Alice and I shall fight for you in a tournament, my fair lady” he proclaims and raises his sword.

Three: Little (Feathery) Red Riding Hood

“How am I supposed to rescue her if this thing controls reality?” I brainstorm while standing next to a huge Devil’s stone with the apparent creed of the entity written on it:

“But let the Lydians be pardoned; and lay on them this command, that they may not revolt or be dangerous to you; then, I say, and forbid them to possess weapons of war, and command them to wear tunics under their cloaks and buskins on their feet, and to teach their sons lyre-playing and song and dance and huckstering. Then, O King, you will soon see them turned to women instead of men; and thus you need not fear lest they revolt.”

“Just look around, there is no hope for her. She is totally girlified” part of me screams.

“You gotta understand that I can’t allow something like this to go on” I continue the soliloquy. “I’m confident that referring to him as “she” is a big mistake. It’s still a “he” and he’s been dragged here by an inter-dimensional interference. I’m not gonna stand by and watch it happen. I can’t.”

“Alright” another part of me responds. “So how are we gonna handle this? You do understand it’s only a matter of proverbial time before this thing gets to you?”

“Yeah, I can’t even shape-shift here, I can’t do anything” I conclude and add. “This means I gotta find a way to isolate the victim and explain the situation. Then – somehow – take him with me and hope that the curse breaks.”

“You do realize that girlification is a very powerful spell, don’t you?” another accurate observation.

“Of course I do!” I exclaim but quickly realize how dangerous this can be. “But listen, I don’t have much time before this entity gets to me. I can’t do anything here, it’s like The Trainman.”

I look around and notice a book next to a Venetian mirror. “Yeah” I nod, peering into the document. “This is her life. All described. What she does. And when she does it.”

“Interesting … horseback riding, ballet, piano … billiards … magician’s helper … I’m gonna have to use the info somehow.”

“Now imagine doing all that in that feathery dress” a thought appears in my mind. “This is too humiliating to survive but the entity made sure no one could off themselves.”

“I didn’t realize the gravity of the situation” I mutter to myself. “I gotta act now” I nod vigorously.

“There’s no time for wallowing in self-pity.”

 “Are you sure this forest is a good place for surreptitious analyses?” my soliloquy continues.

“No better one than this one.”

“My current form is not exactly the best for this assignment” I am thinking out loud. “I should have anticipated … what the fuck, get rid of should! “

“Fuck anticipation” I continue the silent exchange of thoughts. “Fuck it. I can’t always predict every single variable in a given equation.”

“Alright” I nod. “So what do I do?” I visualize his schedule in front of me.

“According to the schedule, she’s gonna arrive for her horseback performance soon. After that, in around fifteen minutes, she’s gonna be passing next to this forest. THIS is my chance.”

 “There she is!” I exclaim in a fit of ecstasy.

“Shut the fuck up!” I hear a reminder.

“Right.”

“Damn, that’s interesting. I never saw anyone doing horseback riding in high heels. Why can’t she just take it off?”

“Given the nature of the entity, it’s more than likely that the dress is cursed and she doesn’t have to focus on any bodily functions” my keen discernment tells me.

“What a strange set of aesthetics” I cannot help but conclude. “Though – as relatively ashamed as I am – I find it pleasing to the eye.”

“I understand reality so my spin on it tends to be different to that presented by the consensus” I add my two cents and conjure up an image of the plan. “Horse jumping, canter … nothing more for – for now.”

“How much longer?” a question looms. “Those heels … wow.”

“We’re getting there” I reply. “Do I remember what to do?”

“Yeah” my schizophrenic episode continues. “All clear.”

The girl is prancing on her horse through the forest. Another chore has been scheduled for today:

“THE MAGICIAN’S HELPER.”

There is always that spotlight focusing a powerful beam on her black heels when she is on the stage. She even curtsies.

“FREEZE!” I rush out of the bushes.

The girl squeaks and almost falls off the horse. Fortunately for her, she re-gains control of the reigns.

“Do not be afraid” I say, tentatively. “I am not here to hurt you.”

The girl looks at me with a sweet smile.

“Could you please tell me who you are, pretty please?”

I know the curse is powerful and the girl is not going to grasp the concept quickly. She has been here far too long. All I can do to end the vicious circle of bondage is escape. Right now. And hope that the curse breaks when consensus holding it is no longer the dominant force.

“She does look kinda like a feathered Little Red Riding Hood” my pesky mind comments.

“Thank you for that astute assessment of yours, now be quiet” I respond with a touch of hostility and switch my attention to the confused damsel immediately. “Yes, could you please dismount the horse?”

“Sir, forgive me, pretty please, but I have to…”

“Yes” I interrupt by raising my right hand. “I am HIS messenger.”

Upon hearing this, the girl starts to blush. It appears that she feels guilty she has not recognized me. I feel a little weird as well, I am dealing with a highly idiosyncratic circumstance here.

“Now’s the time!” an imperative strikes my mind. “NOW OR NEVER!”

A cliché flash of light swoops down on me again.

Four: Redemption

I find myself in the room. I use “the” because it is the room where it all started.

“Damn!” she appears to be catatonic. “Still sitting on this chair like a flippin’ swan.”

“Give it time” I soliloquy - ize. “Just give it time.”

Thank whoever, it seems to be working. The heels are beginning to disintegrate, the feathers slowly turn into pants/trousers. When it comes to more details, I am really not that interested.

I am the voyeur for the next five minutes. Just to make sure.

Eventually, he gets back to normal. He does not remember anything from the descent into girlishness.

“What about the time, however relative?”

“All has been arranged. Not a single deviation.”