Dreams, Secrets, and Transformations: Beyond the Enchanted Looking Glass

it's time ch3

Roger stood up and turned around to exit the attic. At that moment he began to feel light-headed and dizzy, like he was about to pass out. He leaned forward placing his hands on his knees, trying to regain his composure and keep from falling, dropping the book at his feet in the process.

After a few moments he began to feel warmer, like the temperature in the room had risen several degrees. He stood back upright and looked around the room. Everything looked normal, he saw nothing that would explain the temperature change. He reached up to feel his forhead and cheek with the back of his hand, wondering if he might have a fever.

He decided it was time to get out of the attic, but before he even took a step, something caught his eye. A glowing light suddenly appeared at the other end of the attic. It was a dim, warm amber glow that flickered and appeared to be coming from an object covered by a dusty, white sheet. Roger rushed towards the light, his heart pounding in his chest.

Was it a candle, but how? Or something else burning, he wondered, becoming nervous. He had been up here for quite some time, alone. There was no way someone had lit candle or started any fire.

When he got to the five foot tall object, he realized the glow had grown too large to be a candle, but nothing was actually burning either, so it wasn't a fire.

He hesitantly removed the sheet, and found himself standing before a mirror made of polished obsidian. It glowed and pulsed with an otherworldly light that had no definable source, and in the depths of the reflective glass, he saw his own reflection. But this was no ordinary reflection - it was him yet it wasn't. In the mirror was the reflection of a girl, the same girl he had created in his mind, the one he imagined himself as, the one he had recently began wishing he could be, Rhonda.

Roger stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. He landed on his butt with his knees in the air and kept himself from falling flat by catching himself with his hands behind him.

He saw himself in the mirror, on the floor. He was a beautiful girl, with long flowing brown hair, almond eyes, and a radiant glow.

He stood back up and the girl did the same. He raised his arm, the girl in the mirror matched his movements. When he lowered his arm, same thing. He leaned in closer. They gazed into one another's eyes as he traced the contures of her face.

When Roger was three, he had fallen while climbing the brick steps going up to the porch in his back yard and had hit his head. To this day he still had a scar above his right eye from where he had hit the edge of one of the brick steps. The girl staring back at him from the mirror had the same scar. He traced the scar with his finger.

Realizing this could only be the mirror, the one from the book, and that it had found him, he began to freak out, but moments later, just as quickly as the fear had consumed him, he felt a momentary sense of peace wash over him unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

Standing there, lost in the mirror's gaze, he suddenly realized as quickly as the feeling of peace and contentment filled him, it was interupted by another feeling. He didn't feel right. Something was out of sorts, but he couldn't place what it was.

Roger made a face and stuck out his tongue, observing the girl as she did the same along with him. With her tongue still sticking out, she smiled at him and he realized a grin had formed on his own face. He pulled his tongue back in. He was in shock. Was this real?

He didn't think he was dreaming, it was too vivid, felt all too real, but how was the mirror creating this image of the girl he had invented in his mind and able to make her match his movements in place of his own reflection, he wondered.

Leaning to his left, Roger could see the open chest behind him, in the mirror, and the book on the floor, at rest precisely where he had dropped it earlier. Everything in the mirror was a true reflection of reality except for himself.

He wanted to believe this was real, but there was too much outside of the realm of reality. He racked his brain, trying to figure out some explanation that made sense, but the only thing that he could come up with was that he must have actually hit his head and passed out earlier and was currently dreaming.

Roger looked back at the reflection in the mirror. She really was his dream girl; her eyes, her smile, her hair, her curves, the way her tee shirt, the same shirt he was wearing, clung to her body and her jeans accentuated the curves of her lithe figure. She was gorgeous.

Mesmerized by her beauty, Roger cupped his hand, and reached up, watching as the girl in the mirror replicated his movements, placing her hand on her chest, over one of her breast. That's when he realized this was more than a reflection of the girl he had created in his head, and he now knew why he felt out of sorts. When he got his hand to his chest, he could feel his cupped hand was filled with an actual breast, a breast that was attached to his own chest and moved along with the movement of his hand.

With his other hand he pinched his arm and he felt the pain, which told him he wasn't passed out, he wasn't dreaming.

Roger stumbled backward again, bumping into a dressmaker's mannequin, causing it to fall against a stack of boxes before hitting the attic floor with a thud. Roger immediately looked down to discover there really was a small set of breasts on his chest and he was wearing the same outfit as his reflection. This is when his mind clearly realized what was happening, the mirror had granted his wish. He had become the girl he had dreamed of becoming.

As much as he had dreamed about turning into a girl, he never actually considered it could happen for real. Magical transformations were the stuff of science fiction fantasy, not reality, yet here he was, staring at himself, seeing not the body he had came up to the attic in,  but the body he had created in his mind.

Roger poked one of the new bumps on his chest with a finger and it squished. He moved his finger futher down and came in contact with the nipple, causing him to shudder in reaction to the sensation. He immediately realized this could only mean one thing and he quickly thrust his hand into his jeans.

Thoughts, and emotions, particularly suprise, excitement and fear, flooded his mind as he simultaneously feared what he would and wouldn't feel between his legs. It was more than his mind could process at that moment and he blacked out, hitting the attic floor with a thump.