Lake Otherlife, Part 7: The Task Ahead (Patreon)

A visit to a mysterious outback lake results in a big change for George and Holly, who are already undergoing relationship troubles of their own. Now, with their genders and lives utterly altered, will their romance last?

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Lake Otherlife, Part 7: The Task Ahead

George:

The inside of the store was not magical or mysterious. It was just a store, filled with books, many of them in dedicated sections for various eras and subjects of Indigenous history. I appreciated the practicality of that. The man who led us in did so confidently. He was a grinner, and I caught him twice sneaking a look at my boobs, but it wasn’t in a leery way; more like a sort of mild amusement. His name was Andy, though he said it wasn’t his ‘mob name’, but the affectation ‘white fellas did business with.’ It made me a little annoyed, because the truth was that I wasn’t a ‘white fella’ right now; the pair of big brown boobs hanging off my chest was proof of that.

“I bet you two had a real shock when you came out,” Andy said, cracking a pearly smile and looking over Holly and myself.

“I didn’t exactly come out like this,” I said in my thick Spanish accent, gesturing to my curvy form. “It was the next day, when we woke up in our hotel.”

“It was definitely a shock then, though,” Holly said with a sheepish grin.

Andy just raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “The effect is different depending on the person, at least that's how I know of it. Some change straight away, some wake up different a whole five years later. I suppose you two got lucky, at least you know it was the lake that did it; I imagine there's a few tourists from all around Asia, America, and beyond who one day found themselves with a new appendage between their legs, or a pair of tits they didn't have."

I sighed a little, crossing my arms beneath my chest. He wasn’t wrong; it was a blessing we knew straight away. I could only imagine how terrible it would have been if we had discovered it after we had kids, or if we’d split up, God forbid. Dios . . .

“So, you used to be a white fella then?”

Andy was inspecting me over, but at least it didn’t feel like he was undressing me with his eyes like all the other men were doing in the last two days - hell, even Holly was doing now that she was Harry! Instead, it was like he could see right through me, to the man beneath.

“Yeah, my name was George Willford. Now I’m Gabriella González.”

“I’m guessing the Spanish accent is new to you too, huh mate?”

I blushed a little. It was awkward to have it pointed out directly. “Si, it is. I keep slipping into it as well, like I’m some ridiculous character from a television show.”

“Well, a race change and a sex change and a nationality change. You got hit by the full trifecta. At least you didn’t get turned into a wombat.”

My breath caught for a moment. So did Holly’s; I could tell from the glance we exchanged.

“Was . . . was that a possibility?” Holly asked, voice deep with concern.

Andy held our stare for a moment, his features serious. Suddenly, with a great gust of movement, he cackled, throwing his hands to the air.

“Yeah nah, mate, I’m just fucking with you. To my knowledge, no one’s been turned by the Lake that bad, though I guess we couldn’t exactly find out otherwise, could we? Ah well, you two struggling lovebirds come with me. Ma will see you upstairs.”

“Ma?” Holly asked.

He gave us a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah mate, Ma. Ma Dusk. She’ll know what’s up.”

He directed us up the steps, and Holly gallantly allowed me to go first after Andy. It was an odd feeling; I was being treated by a woman, and yet it made my stomach flutter for a moment.

“Ladies first,” he said.

“Gracias,” I replied, trying and failing to conceal a little smile. It was hard not to be a little joyful, even if going up the stairs made my boobs bounce even more in this outfit. We were nearing the end of this insanity. We were close to getting back to who we were meant to be.

Holly:

I liked Andy. He had tracked us down on the street and clearly enjoyed knowing more than we did, but the fact of the matter was that he had sought us out to help. There was no question of payment, of favours, or services. Just a good bloke who somehow knew that we were off, though exactly how he knew was a mystery he hadn’t answered, and I got the feeling he liked not answering; he was working up to the big reveal. He had taken us into Dusk’s Bookshop, a little Indigenous-based bookstore packed down the side of a street that had only just made it onto my own list, which was thankfully only a little walk from where he’d found us. All the way over, he peppered us with questions.

“What did this lake look like?

“Where did the name Otherlife come from?”

“So, you went swimming - did you have visions? Did it look like the Dreamtime, or was it more personal to you or something?”

“So, what’s it like having tits?”

The last was directed at Gabriella, and I could tell even she found it a little amusing, because she simply gave a sarcastic raise of the eyebrow and said, “they’re heavy. And they bounce. And they’re not yours.”

That made him crack up. “I respect your restraint, Gabriella-”

“George.”

“-Senorita George, because I would have most definitely spend all of my time cupping and feeling tits like that if I had them.”

“You’re welcome to trade.”

“No no! I’m a proud Aboriginal fella. Wouldn’t do to suddenly be talking Spanish, would it mate?”

And so on. He loved to talk that was for sure, but after all the insanity, I realised just how much George and I had only spent time with each other these last two days, and how rewarding it was to be able to vent about our supernatural problem to someone else. It was also validating to think that I hadn’t gone cuckoo; I really did have a penis between my legs, and I really was feeling strangely confident.

Which brought us to his family’s bookshop, supposedly owned by his family for three generations, and proudly so. I let Gabriella take the stairs ahead of me, and I won’t lie; I did like watching that wide ass of hers shake. It was perfectly contoured, wonderfully rotund. I was damn jealous of it, but in my male form, I was starting to realise I was actually a bit of a perv. I headed up after her, and there we met Ma Dusk.

She was an Aboriginal woman with dark skin, curly snow-white hair, and weathered features that had seen more than a few things. She was short, and a little fat, but she gave a kind grin as we entered, and gestured for us to sit opposite us in a set of comfy chairs. When we sat, I noticed Gabriella’s hand was dangling to the side, unconsciously waiting for my own. I held it, and she briefly looked in surprise, only to smile. Once again, I was taking the initiative, and he was appreciating the little affectionate moments.

“Ma, meet Gabriella and Harry. Gabriella and Harry, meet Ma Dusk, my gran.”

I extended a hand, and she shook it. Despite my newfound strength, I was surprised by her firm grip. My transformed fiancé also extended a hand, but Ma Dusk held Gabriella’s hand flat instead, and seemed to examine the palm, looking at the soft brown skin with something approaching nostalgia.

“Good to meet you kids,” she finally said, pulling her arms back. “Tea? Coffee? Bit early for beer, I’d say, but I can never tell with out-of-towners.”

“Well, I could do with a coffee,” I said.

“Tea for me. Coffee doesn’t agree with my tastebuds anymore,” Gabriella said sadly.

Ma nodded to Andy, who sighed and went to fetch the drinks. Clearly, he didn’t want to miss a thing. As soon as he was out of sight, Ma knelt forward.

“So, you swam in an ancient lake and got turned about a bit?”

I nearly coughed. “Pretty much.”

“And you used to be white, and a man. I bet having those big knockers on your chest is throwing you for a loop. Mine looked a bit more pert back in the day, but even I didn’t stack up like that. And you, tall, dark and handsome, you used to be a pretty little thing, also like I was back in the day. Only my blonde streak was dyed, and I can’t say it suited me. Still, I can tell you were pretty.”

“Right again,” Gabriella said, looking to me and ignoring the earlier comment about her chest. “Holly is very pretty. From the minute I saw her.”

Aww.

“How can you tell this?” I asked Ma, “Andy didn’t tell you anything.”

Ma Dusk just chuckled, leaning back in her seat. “Because I can see it, you fool girl! Can’t you? Look, just focus on me. Look behind the layers. I bet you see something, I just bet. It’s happened once before.”

I looked close, trying to understand what she was saying. Gabriella too. The jug started boiling downstairs as Andy got to work on the drinks, but my attention was solely on the little woman before me. The little woman who-

For a moment, there was a flicker. A shimmer. An image of someone else; a man in his early fifties, perhaps, with white skin and blue eyes. And then it was gone. Gabriella squeaked, and covered her mouth when she realised she’d made the sound.

“You used to be a man too,” I said.

She nodded, giving that same toothy grin.

“Who says you only live once, huh?”

George:

I was bewildered. I was stunned. I was horrified.

“You . . . you’ve been stuck as an Aboriginal woman all your life?”

“You make it sound so bad, love! I love my life - didn’t you see my big smile out on the shop front poster there?”

I was flailing. “But - but you didn’t change back? It’s impossible?”

Ma Dusk gestured for me to settle down. I looked to Harry - I mean Holly - she was cool as a cucumber, brow a little creased as she worked over this information. It was me who was being emotional again. I had to stop it. Clamp down.

“Maybe it’s best if I told my quick story from the beginning, before my grandson gets back in. I’ve told him enough, and his blood means he can spot someone else who’s changed, but he doesn’t need to hear all the itty bitty gritty of who I used to be. That man died a long time ago as far as I’m concerned, he just has a fascination with finding out that I’m not interested in satisfying. Anyway . . .

“I was a tourist from America named Paul Jacek. I was backpacking across the world when I made my way through Kakadu, though it wasn’t as famous back then as it is now. Still, I knew it was going to be beautiful. But, you see, I didn’t really have much respect for the land, despite loving its beauty. I wanted to conquer it, own it, take pictures of it. I’m embarrassed to say I left shit everywhere; disposable cups, rubbish, bottles, beer cans, you name it. It was a different time back then, but the truth of the matter is I was worse than most. And I had . . . let’s just say I didn’t have the most progressive ideas when it came to the locals, the true owners of the land.”

She gestured to herself and gave a lovely wheezy laugh. “I bet you can see where this story is going, can’t you?”

It was a joke, but I leaned forward, captivated, not caring what a show my tits were making in this tight top. I needed to know how and why she had remained as Ma Dusk, and if there was a way to change back.

“Anyways, one night, I come across this great big beautiful lake that’s not on any map. Sound familiar?”

I nodded, eagerly, causing my curly black hair to spill around my sun-kissed features.

“Naturally, being the yank tourist I was, I came to the idiot conclusion that I’d discovered the place. Can you imagine? Sixty-thousand years of native history, and here a white fella from across the pond was claiming he’d ‘discovered’ something new. Tale as old as time. Anyway, it was a beautiful day, and the water was supernaturally warm and nice - I know better now that a lot of outback rivers and lakes are freezing as shit, which would have been my first clue that something was off had I known it at the time. Anyway, I entered the lake, and I get all these strange visions. Visions of the land from ages past, of people a millenia ago entering it, changing body and form. I’m overwhelmed, and it feels like I’m changing, becoming one with the land like them, feeling it, laying down roots, I suppose. And all this time someone else was swimming with me, this gorgeous Aboriginal girl who just smiled and waved at me, like she knew something I didn’t.

“When I emerged, hours had passed, which made no sense. I couldn’t figure it out. So I left the place, a little freaked out, and took off back to my hotel, and continued my trip around the country. I was planning to stay only another week, but something about the land kept me here; I extended my trip, y’see. The sun was making my skin go brown, and I felt connected to the earth in a way I never had. Of course, what actually was happening was I was changing; over time, slowly, across the course of a month. Lost my sausage and two eggs, developed a set of tits that were a big bigger than I could have reasonable expected, and got all the curves. Stocky, but good looking. I was becoming a native, an Aboriginal woman, and I even had a mob; it was like all of reality had changed around me so that I’d always lived here, and I was a young Aboriginal sheila named Malana Dusk.”

She shrugged. “Anyway, that’s my story.”

It was like getting narrative whiplash. “Uh, with all due respeto, Ma Dusk , no it’s not! Why couldn’t you change back? Did you find something more about the lake? Can it be found?”

“Hold up, hold up! That’s a barrage right there, and I’m an old ticker now.” She clasped her hands together. “First, tea.”

Andy returned with the drinks, and set them on the table. He gave an indication that he wanted to stay, but Dusk just shooed him away. Clearly, she was okay with her past staying buried, even if her grandson wanted to dig it up. I sipped at my tea, appreciating the green tea leaf taste. Clearly, Gabriella liked her drinks more relaxed. I could have sworn the Spanish generally preferred coffee, but maybe I was wrong; this body didn’t exactly come with instruction manuals, and I only had the base needed knowledge at a time.

Ma Dusk put down her tea. I could tell that Holly was just as eager as me; despite being a powerful male, she still did that thing where she tapped her knee incessantly, though with her muscles it made a more dominating presence than perhaps she realised. The older woman shifted herself on the couch, relaxing back into memory.

“Well, to answer your further questions, George/Gabriella, I can tell you first what you want to hear. I could change back. And so can you.”

I nearly dropped my tea, and had to recover it, causing these irritating boobs to once more jostle. Holly shifted forward.

“Are you sure?”

“Oh yes, but you may not like how you gotta go about it.”

Holly:

Gabriella sighed, placing her delicate hand against her olive forehead.

“Tell us,” I said. It wasn’t the tone I would normally have taken, but I was feeling more direct. More masculine.

“Well, first you gotta wait a year.”

“A YEAR!?”

That was Gabriella. She shot to her feet so fast that her own boobs nearly caught her in the chin. Her midriff was on full display, her too, and her thick thighs outlined by her tight jeans. Even in the midst of this particular shock, my fiancé - or rather, fiancée - was turning me on a little. I crossed one leg over the other in a quite ladylike manner to disguise the erection, and focus on getting it back down.

“A whole year,” Ma Dusk said, a compassionate look on her features. “Told you that you wouldn’t like it.”

“Mierda! Mierda! Shit and fuck!”

“You know, this sheila is pretty cute when she swears,” Dusk said, waving her down. “Take a seat, sheila, and let me explain the details.”

Reluctantly, Gabriella did, fuming. I took her hand again, and she clenched it tightly, her hand shaking a little. I rubbed it slowly with my thumb, and she calmed a little. It was not the sort of thing that would have worked on her when she’d been George.

“Okay, so Lake Otherlife is ancient, and there’s evidence it was in some of the Dreamtime stories of my people - well, the people I accidentally became one of - stretching back thousands of years. Oral stories handed down generation after generation of a magical lake that appears before those whose spirits are out of balance, or in need of healing, or,” she took a moment to eye use both, “even before couples whose connection has faltered.”

Gabriella barely seemed to shift. It was like my fiancée was so focused on changing back that she didn’t see something far more important in front of her; the Lake knew that our relationship was in trouble. I decided to speak up.

“Wait, are you saying the Lake sensed that our relationship was having problems? And this is - what? It’s attempt to fix it.”

“Something like that. Change and challenge brings adversity that can test the love between two people, but it can also tie them together. The Lake certainly knows; it was no coincidence it appeared before you.”

“Why did it appear to you then?”

She gave a wan smile. “Because I was detached from the world. It was my amusement park, and I disrespected it. But it saw in me the potential to set down roots, and take part in the ancient tradition. That’s how the Lake of Other Lives works; it changes your body and history, and gives you one year to adapt and become better. If you prefer your new life at the end, you simply walk away. If you still want to change back, you return to where you first saw it, take another dip, and Bob’s your uncle and Fanny’s your aunt, you’re back to having a pair of testes.” She cackled, gesturing towards Gabriella.

“But . . . you didn’t turn back?” she asked.

I could tell my former-fiancé was confused, but I wasn’t. In a year, who could say how much you had gotten used to, even come to love your new life? Already, my anxiety had dissipated, and I was becoming more confident each hour in my manly body. And the act of sex, of thrusting into Gabriella, who was so soft and curvy and submissive, and hearing her cries . . .

My thoughts petered out as my erection grew. Damn, as a man you really did only have enough blood for brains or boinking, never both at once. I crossed my legs further, trying not to crush my balls with my thighs.

“That’s right, never changed back!” Ma Dusk proclaimed happily. She gestured over her plump figure. “I may not look it now, but I cut a fine native beauty when I changed, and for a good few years after. I wanted nothing more than to go back to being a man, but as the year continued, and the elder stories came to me of my chance to turn back, I also integrated into my tribe, and found a place there. I was happy; the stories and traditions and beliefs gave me purpose. And, of course, I was quite the looker too; after just six months I’d snagged me a hot boyfriend, a beautiful black fella named Sam. He passed on two years ago, and I still miss him everyday. By the time I returned to the lake, it was with him, and instead of diving back in, I simply sat by the edge and thanked it for what it had done for my life.”

“You . . . you weren’t even tempted?” I asked.

“‘Course I was tempted, girl! Or boy, whichever you prefer, the difference in age is what matters. I wanted so much to go in that lake and back to being a white fella, off to fuck some beautiful woman or see some far away sights. Certainly, my other life was a lot richer, and I had to work a lot harder as an Aboriginal woman, as well as put up with some shocking racism. Not to mention how some men fetishise us Indigenous folk.

But now, I had to stay. I was in love with my Sam, and I was in love with my new way of life, and I was in love with the land. I may have not been born to it, but it was part of me now in this new reality, and so I stayed.”:

“Do you ever regret it?” I said. I could see Gabriella simply couldn’t accept what this woman was saying, that she’d willingly remained as a woman of colour in a foreign land.

“Time to time,” Ma said, reaching again for her tea. “Had some bad experiences, some tough times. Not all sunshines and roses.” She gestured up at several photos on the wall, where a full-figured Aboriginal woman was portrayed with family. In the middle was one that must have been her in her thirties, hugging a tall Aboriginal man with a charismatic toothy grin. Before them were five children, and her belly appeared to be rounded with a sixth. “But as you can see, the cup always filled more than it emptied. Sam gave me six beautiful babies who I nursed at my own breast.”

She leaned forward and tapped Gabriella on the knee, winking.

“By the way, pregnancy isn’t all sunshine and roses and that either. Don’t believe all those Instachat photos or whatever that are all peaceful and arty. It can be a real fucking slog. But there is also nothing more beautiful in the world, and despite the hardship, I loved going through it each and everytime. And nursing your own child, giving it life from your own body. There is nothing to compare. Nothing.”

Gabriella looked like she was about to turn white. “I - we were planning on kids. But there is no way jose that I’m carrying them. I didn’t even think about that! I won’t!”

Ma Dusk just shrugged. “To each his own - or her own. But who knows what a year might bring. It certainly brought me many grandchildren; a parent can’t play favourites, but a gran can; Andy’s mine. He’s a good fella, as you’ve seen.”

I took in the photos again. They were beautiful, and it was astonishing to see how peaceful Ma Dusk was in her state; perfectly content to be pregnant a sixth time, to have a large family, to be a woman.

Could George ever be like that? Would a year make him consider a life as Gabriella?

George:

No mames! I couldn’t even consider a life as Gabriella. A life of having big tits, a big butt, itty bitty waist. Of being short and helpless, of being checked out and leered at by every man in a five mile radius. Or bursting out into Spanish when overwhelmed. Of being overwhelmed by feminine emotions, and crying all the time. Sure, it had felt nice to be more open with Harry, and maybe that was something to work on, but as a man, dammit! Not a woman! There was no way I was going to put up with period cramps every month or, God forbid, grávida! If we were going to have sex again - and that was a real if, even despite my body finding his forearms and chest really damn sexy - we were going to have to be careful. Or else I’d be returning to Lake Otherlife with a bulging belly full of life, and that may make it impossible to go back anyway.

I thanked Ma Dusk, still feeling a little overwhelmed. How could she possibly have stayed in her form? Yes, I suppose that after twenty years or so, one could become Stockholm-syndromed to it, but there was no way that this senorita - I mean, this man! - would accept that. The notion that just after twelve months she had decided to stay an Indigenous woman told me she had always harboured a desire to be feminina, or something. I certainly would not be going down that same road. No mames!

“Thank you for everything,” Holly said, after we had chatted a little more. No more information had come to light, but it was clear that my fiancée enjoyed her company. If I was still a man, I would have indicated to her that it was time we left, and that would have been that. But my take-charge quality had been sapped away, and I found myself anxiously waiting for us to go, so we could return to our hotel and plan . . . something. Anything, on how to tackle this. I had become, it was embarrassing to realise, the hot trophy wife hanging on her husband’s arm while he talked to someone else. Except, of course, we weren’t married. Part of the reason that Lake chose us, I supposed. Certainly, it was making me overcorrect on the ‘always have to be dominant side.’

Finally, it was time to leave. Andy had returned, and that was indication enough to pack up. I thought for a moment that he had changed too, because he recognised our true selves, but according to Ma, it was something that the next three generations of anyone altered by the Lake could do. After that, the talent disappeared.

“One year,” she told us, “one year. A lot of time to figure out those new bodies of yours. One thing the Lake of Other Lives is good at, it seems, is giving out some real rockin’ bods, as the kids say these days. Hell, I’m older than you may think; I’m pretty sure the ageing process is slowed as well. Plenty of time to sort your relationship troubles, try to enjoy your new bodies and connections, and learn and grow and change. Trust me, it happens. Then in one year you can both return to the Lake, and decide what you want to do.”

“I already know what I want to do,” I said, standing, trying to appear resolute. “One year and I’ll be a man again, and Holly a woman again.”

Holly decided not to speak, and she seemed almost a little too much like the old Holly. She had a troubled look on her face.

“Thank you very much. Gracias,” I said. Holly said her goodbyes also.

We moved down the stairs, me leading the way, ridiculous tits wobbling distractingly on my chest. Andy followed us out, and gave us Ma and his numbers to contact them again if we needed to talk, and then he waved us off.

“Good luck missy, good luck mate! Hope it all works out. And if you ever wanna tell me how Gran used to be, sing out!”

Holly chuckled, and gave him a firm handshake. I tried the same, and it felt limp and weak. But still I turned, walking down the street to return to our hired car, resolute and determined, no matter how much these wobbling breasts and sashaying ass undermined my points. One year, we could do it.

One year.

One long, strange year.

To Be Continued . . .