Chapter 3 — My True Self
I’m naked.
I’m naked and sitting on the boy with the leather jacket. My heart is thumping and I’m gushing wet. What happened? I know I wanted to have sex but once we got to his apartment, I figured I would think it over a bit. I mean, I’m pretty sure the Christmas memory is the fake one and I’m not a slut. So I tried to focus on the good memory...And next thing I know, I have the irrepressible urge to strip naked and pounce on him.
“Huh...Excuse me?” He asks in disbelief. “I’m not going to bitch on you for wanting some action, but...That’s a bit cavalier, don’t you think?”
“Maybe...I don’t know...I’m nearly dying of shame but at the same time this feels completely...Natural...”
“You’re cute but I’m...Not sure doing it would do you any favors right now...”
“Aaaw...”
Did I...Just whimper? Do I want sex so bad? Yes...Yes I do. I feel his cock stiffening, I want it inside...I want it! Shit, this is bad...I’m seriously acting like a slut. This can’t be the real me, right? I’ve already decided it wasn’t, yet...I’m a slut. I want the dick, I NEED the dick and I LOVE how he stares at my boobies, there is no goddamn way I’m that flat prude, right?!
“Aaaargh, I don’t know anymore!”
I stand up and stagger backwards, falling on my butt. The shock is enough to bring some clarity to my mind. Meaning here I can look into the guy’s eyes when he speaks to me next, rather than his midsection.
“Miss, tell me what’s wrong, I’ll try to help...Were you drugged or something?”
“Yeah...Yeah, that’s right.” Close enough, anyway. “I don’t know who I am...My memory’s all messed up.”
“Memory? I’m...not a drug specialist but that sounds serious.”
“You tell me.”
I look away from him, sensing the urge to look down there rising. Goddammit, he seems calm and collected enough, I mean I did literally jump on him and he kept his delicious, hard dick cool. Maybe he can help me figure things out. My chief problem right now being figuring out which of my memories is the fake. My mind says prude, dignified artist, my body says cute fuckbunny. I’d like to say logic wins, but...I am illiterate. Maybe I’m stupid and stubborn too.
“Say...” I hesitate.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know any Southerners?”
“I dated a Kentucky girl once...”
“Do you think I have the accent?”
He scratches his chin for a short while.
“It’s...not obvious.”
Yeah, figures. Of course I couldn’t be...
“But...”
My eyes shoot open. B-but?
“A fiery redhead like you, I had pegged you as a country gal from the word go. I thought you didn’t have the accent, but thinking about it...Yeah, I’d say it’s there.”
That’s not the answer I believed in, but it’s sure as heck the one I wanted. My heart starts thumping again as I crawl back to him and fall into his arms.
“Someone is making me think I’m a Northerner prude. Please help me...I need to be shagged before I think slut is a bad word again.”
“AAAaaaaAAAahh! Yeess! Mooooore!”
His dick is reaming my gooey insides while my boobies are grinding against the bedsheets. I smile and scream with abandon as I recall everything my Big Sis taught me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I still think she’s fake. Heck...Maybe I know she is. But I don’t care. I know I was there on that road trip, with her, gettin’ the shyness fucked out of me. She made sure I wouldn’t ever be ashamed of sex, and right now I know I shouldn’t. Dick is the best. Who cares about computer art or whatever. All the art I need is the song in my head.
“Urgh! You’re a little redneck whore, aren’t you?”
“Yeeeeess!” I scream, elated. “Fuck me good, harder, faster!! Fuck that Northern accent outta me!”
Christmas, I’m sorry, your baby Sis doubted you. I’ll get him to call you once he’s cummed in mah slutty pussy. I’ll listen to you. I’ll let you tell me who I am and I’ll believe you. I can’t fight this pleasure. I don’t wanna fight it!
“Mmmhngh...GhyaaaaAAAaah!”
I wanna own seven dildos and get fucked by anyone I want! I want huge, luscious boobies like my sistahs and a cute accent! I want orgasms and fun! The computer stuff wasn’t fun at all anyway...
“I was sick of it! Make me cum instead! Make me cuuuuum!”
“Argh! Here it comes, you little Southern bimbo!”
“Oooh...AAaaaah...Ah...AAaah...GHYAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
My head goes blank and I spasm uncontrollably on the bed. Dang, if I didn’t know any better I’d say it was the first cum of mah life, but now I know it happens all the time to lil’ Brookie. Hmm...
The guy comes out of me and turns me on my back. I’m still letting out cute, high-pitched moans in between breaths that make my chest heave and my fingers tremble. Mah fingers, I mean...I’d best get back mah accent before Christmas comes in to save me!
Hmm? He takes out some sort of little bag. Does it have condoms? No need, silly...Ah, no, he’s producin’ a lollipop.
“Oooh, candy!”
“You were a very good girl. Here’s your reward...”
“Gimme! Gimme!”
What the hell...I’m feelin’ all shameful again just for sayin’ that. Who cares, I love candy. I take it in my mouth and start sucking. It’s super sweet, but also strangely...Electrifying...Ooh...Ooooooh?
“Nanites triggered. Damn, Brooke, did you make a complete 180 in there or what? Your old life was that frustrating, huh? Oh well, come with me, honey.”
Boy picks me up again. Feel good. Puts me down on the sofa. Mirror. I look pretty. Is his dick ready again?
“No Brooke, you need to look at the mirror now.” He says, locking my head in place. “Accept your new self image. Given how much progress you made, it’s pretty much certain you’ll have the huge boobies you want so much.”
“Huuuuh...Boobies...” Are they getting big? Happy...Love my body...
“Yes, and if you look into the mirror like a good girl, you’ll think you always had them.”
“Don’t you worry. When you wake up, you’ll still remember Brooke, but you won’t have any doubt who your true self is...Because you made Brooke up, didn’t you honey? You were ashamed of where you came from... how you talked... who you were...Don’t worry, it’s all OK now. You’ll know who to turn to so she can stop bothering you forever.”
Don’t get the words but they make me feel happy and fun. Play time...Ohhh...
The lollipop’s stick didn’t have any candy left on it for a while, but it finally slides out of mah mouth. I don’t feel like catching it. It’s comfy here, in front of the mirror, I can see mah smile on mah pretty face. Freckles. Red hair so full o’passion most folks think it’s fake. Big, innocent-lookin’ green eyes. I’m so cute. But...Is it me? I’m not sure. Not sure at all.
I know I’m Brooke. A gal all serious and smart, like. I wasn’t foolin’ around. Respect and stuff like that. Thinkin’ about it makes mah head swim. She was all alone against the big world and she could afford telling it to git out of her lawn. She didn’t need to be pretty or anythin’, like she was a flat board, no boobies, no hips, she was makin’ it like menfolk. So amazin’. And yet, like, she’s become “she” again. And I’m running mah long, pretty nails down the curvy rollercoaster mah body has become. They reach the stiff, pink nipples on top of mah super big, perfectly round boobies, makin’ em sing with pleasure mah whole body hears.
“Haaaah...”
Well let’s just say I forget how amazin’ I was. I just start hummin’ to the bubbly song in mah head and keep fiddlin’ with my curves. I smile wider when the nails glide down to mah tiny, tiny belly. It’s the rollercoaster’s big drop. All aboard! Tee hee! And it makes me shiver too. It’s not just mah nipples! Touching anywhere makes me feel like singin’. I didn’t have fun like that when I was smart and strong. Touching mah skin was normal, like. Now it’s as if I was bringin’ myself alive. I wanna touch it more. I wanna wear clothes. Not the boyish baggy clothes I had. Tight, sexy clothes hugging mah curves tight. Feel the friction all the time. My boobs, belly, wide hips and the love tunnels in the middle...
“Oooh...Mmhaah...”
I wanna go inside and begin the real concert, but it ain’t no good alone, don’t it? Another thing I just ain’t gettin’. I know I’m no good with people, that I like the computers more. But it’s not what I want...Something is missin’ with this body. I want to touch it all the time, but I want other people to touch it too. Rub their strong hands all over lil’ me...Everywhere they want. I jus’ know that’ll be the real deal. The real fun, so I can finally begin to sing.
That’s how I feel. Like a pretty little bundle of joy. And yet I know it’s fake. I’ve been foolin’ mahself. The slever guys ain’t real. I am Brooke. It’s just that Brooke isn’t the real me.
Having finally broken free of mah reflection, I wander into the guy’s apartmentÅfs living room, nekkid. I still don’t know his name, but his place is really pretty. I bet he has a good job...Oh, he’s done left a note. Whatsit sayin’?
“...Oh, right, I can’t read.”
I thought I could. Just goes to show how well I lied to myself. Drawin’ stuff with computers? Sure, but that’s because those thingamagigs can read for me. Speaking of which, where’s mah phone? I must have left it in the bedroom. Yeah! Here it is, in that sad old pair o’pants. Geez, the years I spent puttin’ on such borin’ stuff just so folks wouldn’t see mah body and free me from this delusion.
I go through the phone’s numbers list, and it reads the contact’s name as it goes. They’re all professional contacts. Any of’em could have helped me if that slavers stuff was true. It’s not, o’course, I was just goin’ bonkers. And this is why I need to call the last name on the list.
“Christmas Smiles.” Says the digital voice.
I tap the green thing on the screen and bring the phone to my ears. My big sister’s voice comes out of the speaker. She sounds like a complete stranger. This delusion has taken so much from me...
“Christmas here! Mah phone doesn’t know this number, who are ya?”
“It’s...It’s me. Trixie.”
Tears start rolling down my cheeks.
“What? For real? Oh, thank God!”
“Big Sis...I...I had forgotten you. With everyone, everythin’ else...”
“Trixie-poo...Are you alright?”
“No, I’m not alright! I tried so hard being smart and respectable like, I straight snapped...Went all paranoid. Thought supervillains were after me.”
“Baby, it’s been three years I didn’t hear from ya...What happened? Tell me...”
“I...Was...I was so ashamed of who I was...I made up sum boring, flat, serious gal named Brooke. I worked alone all these years. All alone. I believed I was enjoying it, believing I was someone else. Mah poor brain just couldn’t handle it...I snapped! I’m sorry...Huaaah...”
I let the tears flow, along with the truth. Brooke is made up. I can never be a fancy smart gal. I’m just Trixie Smiles. Just some dumb fuckbunny from Kentucky.
“Trixie, where are you?”
“I don’t even know!! Brooke’s broken, I’m free now, but I got no idea where I am! The cute boy who just did me is away, too...”
“It’s alright, baby, don’t panic! Let your phone up, I’ll get mah boyfriend in the force, he’ll trace ya...”
“Snirfle Okay big Sis...”
“How about you just make yourself pretty? You must look awful if you let those lanky prudes in art school get to ya...”
“...Guess yer right. I got to remember who I am now...”
“Hang in there! Jus’think of cute boy if ya start gittin’ all depressed again.”
“Thanks, Christmas. Luv ya...”
Mah Big Sis’ is so smart. I leave the phone on, treat mahself to a candy, and go to the bathroom.
After gatherin’ all the cosmetics I could find, Thank the Lord the boy’s living with a gal and ain’t one of those monogyny bores or whatevs, I stare at mah reflection. This is lil’ old me. Trixie Smiles. A cute redhead with huge boobies an’ a tiny brain. Mah pussy’s all wet and gushing an’ the like, and the only reason why I ain’t putting a mascara stick in there is because I don’t want to cum if I’m not in a big manly boy’s warm bracin’ or stuff. So I need to be the prettiest so I can git back to that concert and earn me some fun.
As Brooke, I hate all of this. This ain’t right. This is sexist and like super low. Sorry Brookie. We tried but that’s jus’ not who we are. We’re simple and pretty lil’ chicks, up for any boy to pick, jus’ like all our sistahs. Nah, stop feelin’ bad, Brookie. It’ll be fun, like before. Lemme show you. Let’s git dolled up like a proper girl again. I’ll see there’s nothin’ to be ashamed of. All the fun will come back. Yeah. No more of these awful doubts and negativity I loved for sum reason. I’ll be the yummy lil’ Trixie agin. Just trust Christmas. She’ll fix everythin’.
Not really knowing how to do makeup, I grab an eyeliner and just sorta let things flow. I’m an artist, right? That part wasn’t a lie? I draw a black line across mah right eyelid. It feels very natural and smooth, and the result looks clean. Wow...The contrast is pretty nice, mah green eye looks so much clearer and, like, vibrant. Wow, no wonder I could hold on so long as Brookie! But...I dunno, it feels wrong. I ain’t no fancy gal, and drawin’ all the time sounds boring...It’s not really the art that gets you boys, yanno. And I’m all about gittin’ boys. Aaaah, I want one to fondle me all over right now. Mah whole body’s yearnin’.
Oh hey, there’s a weird bottle o’perfume. Shaped like a sexy gal, just like me, except she’s got herself one of those micro audio thingamabobs for some reason. Reckon I ought to get some. I sprinkle a bit of it on mah wrist and smell it.
Oooh...Smells like flowers...Like the field for the lil’ honey bees back home...The memories...It’s like the smell is bringing ’em back to life. The smell, the sun on mah skin, the breeze relieving the heat...
“Oooh, mah head’s buzzin’...Feels all funny, it’s like...Like I’m there!”
Huh? Why did I speak that? Anyways, yeah, there’s no doubt, these are mah memories of home. It’s all real. I can see my home...My sistahs...
“Hiya Angel! Hiya Gracie! Hiya Big Sis Christmas! It’s me, lil’ ol’ Trixie! I’m comin’ hoooome!
Wha...What the, I feel weird...
“Ooooh, it’s comin’ back again!” I blurt out euphoci...Huh, yanno, all happy. “Gawd I miss mah babblin’! Smart as she was, mean ol’ Brookie was so dang boring! Maybe I’m just a simple country bunny but I ain’t ever heard of a singer who don’t like talkin’!”
What am I saying? It’s blurting out before I can think it over. Singer? I’m a computer drawer, like...How was it...
“Heh? Well that thought ain’t coming up...Giggle Oh well I’ll ask Big Sis. Maybe she done do that thing she was sayin’. Best use that perfume, I can totally use sum scent of home right now!”
I sprinkle perfume on my collarbone while I struggle to focus on my train of thought. There’s a buzz sweeping through my brain and it’s like pushing me back when I try to understand sumthin’. I keep babbling. I can’t think hard about it but I know it’s not like me. What’s happening to me...It’s like I’m being put on automation pilot or something like that.
“Oh hey, Hi miss perfume, I kinda look like you yanno? I’ve got the big boobies and everythin’! Here, git some perfume on’em too! Hee hee, thanks! What a pretty micro...I luv singin’ too!”
It’s not like I ain’t thinkin’ what I’m sayin’, but it seems all wrong and stuff. I hate singing. Always did. But, like, I can’t...find...Why...
“I luv singing!” Mah voice starts exclaiming, echoing loud and clear into my confused mind. “I luv singin’ cause that’s like all mah brain gets! It’s fun as heck and it’s like super natural for me to sing, like I always remember the lyrics all perfect like and it’s as if I was some kinda recording device! Giggle Thinkin’ is so hard anyways, I luv havin’ all mah fun songs instead. I don’t need no thinkin’, mah big Sis is here for me!”
Huuuh...Thinking...Hard...Tsappening...Music getting louder...
“Thinkin’s bad for me anyways, got me believin’ I was sum smarty pants ugly thing. Well that ain’t me, no sir, I’ve got me music in mah head and it’s...It’s...”
....Music...La la...Think...Thi...
“And it’s like the BEST dang music in the wooorld!” I squeal, jumpin’ up and down to the rhythm, rockin’ mah shoulders to get my boobies all bouncy and like. “It’s catchy and fun and light and like it’s all I am! Whoohoo! It’s like mah very own song! Trixie’s song! Makes me soooo happy I wanna sing it! All the boys will like it!”
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